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#but before i have to be quick and safe all the documents and tabs i have open on the laptop with the remaining battery
womble1 · 1 year
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return of the little whump list
I rediscovered  @gumnut-logic  little whump list from last year, and thought I’d have another little stab at it, because I fail at proper whump
Previous ones here: little whump list 
It was adorable really, Brains had crashed out in a deck chair, snoring gently. It didn’t look like he had been originally intending to stop there, a document was still projecting from his tablet, a slowly climbing progress bar showed the stately progress of whatever calculations he had been running. His glasses had been knocked slightly askew, quite possibly by the awkward angle his head was slumped against the back of his seat, or maybe the sheen of sweat had caused them to slide. Scott squinted up at the skyline, noting that the sun was well on its way to its summit. He hummed, considering the scene before him. Brains had been working flat out, which was fairly standard for him, and also fairly standard was his body finally calling in his tab and imposing an enforced rest. Scott was loath to disrupt his recharging, but likewise didn’t feel he could leave him to crisp in the midday sun. He retreated quietly back down the path, returning a few minutes later with reinforcements. 
“What is it Sc-”
“Shhhush!” Scott hissed at Virgil, pointing at the part-baked genius currently stewing in the full force of the sun. 
“Oh!” he replied, comprehension dawning. “He’s going to cook!” he hissed
“I know.” Scott hissed back, his annoyance building at his companions slow uptake. “So help me do something about it!” he waved his arms in Brains’s direction to hurry Virgil along. 
Scott watched on as Virgil folded his arms and slowly paced around the problem at hand. He could almost watch as the cogs turned and options were methodically considered and dismissed one at a time. Scotts impatience made it feel like a lifetime had passed, but in reality the process was startlingly quick. Virgil pointed at a few palm fronts in the treeline, gesturing for Scott to drag them over, while he himself pulled over some driftwood from the high tide line. 
There was much scuffling around in the sand as Virgil tried to silently direct Scott into moving all the parts in a constructive manner. For people who worked so closely on a daily basis, they weren’t getting on very well. Virgil was beginning to think that Scott was being deliberately obtuse, because it ought to have been obvious what needed doing. He growled at Scott the long legged dimwit managed to kick a rather essential piece out of alignment. Virgil yanked the piece back with rather more force than might be considered absolutely necessary, he was completely unrepentant when it tripped Scott, and his lanky legs, into the sea. 
And this was why neither Virgil or Scott noticed when Gordon came trotting onto the beach, a sun umbrella over his shoulder. He dug the poll firmly into the ground, opened the canopy and carefully adjusted until Brains was safely protected by its shade. Job done, he sauntered over to where Virgil was shuffling driftwood and palm leaves and Scott was sat in the shallows trying to wring his shoes out. 
“Whatcha doing?”
Virgil looked up with a start at Gordons voice. “Oh, hey Gordon. We’re just making a shelter for Brains,” he glanced over to where they had left the snoozing Brains, and then faultured as he saw the gaudy parasole casting its cooling shade over their resident engineer. “Wha-?n where did that come from?”
“Grandma sent me down with it, since Brains nearly fell asleep in his lunch.”
Scott let out a groan, and threw his sodden shoe at Virgil. “Why didn’t you think of that?”
“Why didn't you?!” Virgil countered, throwing a frond back at his brother and scrabbling to his feet just in time for Scott to trip him up and send him crashing into the surf. The subsequent splashing and muffled squawking woke Brains, who stretched, took in the squabbling siblings and pottered back towards the villa to carry on his work. He felt refreshed and the addition of the thermos of coffee Mrs Tracy had left for him on his workbench he was soon back at full speed. The fact that she had also left out some soothing cream for mild sunburn, spoke of her unnerving ability to predict everyone's requirements.
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icyschreviews · 1 year
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A Review of Dragon Age: Inquisition
Part 1: Playing a Broken PC Port
This is part 1 of a multi-part review of Dragon Age: Inquisition. Click here for part 2 and part 3.
God, why do I keep doing this? I tell myself I’ll only play a game for fun and next thing you know I’m five pages and half a bottle of tequila down a review. It’s you, BioWare, isn’t it? We keep doing this with every other game you release. Andromeda was the reason I got into this futile hobby in the first place. Well shame on you, you and your nerdy DnD mechanics and your campy fantasy drama and your thirst traps you call companions. Yes, I’m going to trash Inquisition now. Consider yourselves responsible.
Where do I even begin with this game? It’s safe to say that I’m a fan of Origins through and throughout. There are many RPGs out there that call themselves old-school, but not one quite like Origins. Sure, I’m into action RPGs as well (I play Dark Souls just like any other hoe), but few games can match Origins’ juicy blend of stellar writing and complex combat.
So let’s not treasure that. Let’s piss all over it and burn it in a dumpster, eh EA? All the cool kids are doing open-worlds now, so we have to follow the trends. Cram as much content as you can in it. God forbid the next Assassin’s Creed has one more minute of gameplay than we do. Give us crafting. Can’t have a triple-A game without that. And bigger maps. I said bigger! Copy-paste the stuff we already have. More quest markers. So many quest markers that they overlap on the map. MOAR!
Oh dear, we got so worked up we forgot about the graphics. There’s no way we’re releasing this game if you can’t see every scale on a dragon’s ass. It’s called Dragon Age after all. Say what now, BioWare? Your engine can’t keep up with that level of detail? Hush baby, we’re not going to license someone else’s well documented and well tested engine. Mama’s got Unreal at home.
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Goat’s blood all over you edifice, EA.
Listen, I don’t have anything against console players. People should play games wherever its the most convenient for them. I also have nothing against bringing games to more platforms. Sure, adapt Dragon Age for consoles. Why not make it available to a larger crowd? But why, oh why would you do that at the expense of the PC version? Tell me, BioWare, please.
I booted up Inquisition for the first time, took control after the initial cut-scene, pressed space on my keyboard and almost had a heart attack. Instead of pausing the game my character jumped. Jumped, I tell you! What is this blasphemy in my Dragon Age game? I quickly remapped the controls. Off with you, filthy jump button!
Next came pressing the tab button. Tab. Tab! Tab, goddamn, why is it not responding? Ok, back to the key bindings. How do I highlight items in the area? Right, by pressing the V key. Lets remap that real quick. Now press tab…
It echoed. The highlight is now an echo. Wha— Why? Why would you do that, BioWare? How is that more convenient than the way it was before? You used to hold down tab and all interactable items in the area would stay highlighted as long you had your finger on the button. The new echo only marks objects for a short while. You don’t even have enough time to make a full circle before the highlight starts fading. What am I supposed to do with this? If the highlight didn’t also flash on the mini-map, it’d be practically unusable.
I didn’t realize what caused this change until I switched over to a gamepad (spoiler alert). There the highlight is mapped to L3. Of course it fucking is. Who would want to hold down L3 for a prolonged period of time? Alright, BioWare, but why not have two separate implementations of this feature for different platforms? You can’t tell me the echo was the easier one to implement. At least it beeps differently when there aren’t any items around.
Ok, deep breaths. Remember what you learned in therapy. All of these are just minor inconveniences. I’m sure the rest of the game plays just fine. Look, what’s that item in the corner? Let’s check it out. Click on it. Click. Right click on it. Again. Click…
Oh my god, your character doesn’t automatically approach faraway items to interact with them any more. You have to walk over to them and then click. What’s worse the collision boxes went on a diet. Picking up a slim little elfroot requires a surgeon’s precision. I’d consistently walk over to one, only to overshoot it by a tiny bit. If this didn’t make me blow my brains out, nothing ever will.
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Blasphemy!
And that’s not even half of it. The real war crimes were committed against the game’s combat. I can’t even begin to describe it. The combat was desecrated. Defiled. Abolished. Torn to pieces and processed through a meat grinder. The tactical mode is the stuff of which nightmares are made of. It feels finicky at best and rage inducing at worst.
I can’t believe Origins is the oldest Dragon Age game, yet the only one to have its shit together when it comes to the camera. Does regression count as some sort of progress? Dragon Age 2 trimmed the maximum zoom level, but Inquisition went one step further and let the camera clip into the ceiling. Visibility in closed spaces is miserable and it only gets worse in poorly lit dungeons.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the game randomly kicks you out of the tactical mode while adjusting the camera’s zoom level. There’s no pattern to this behavior. Sometimes it’ll do what it’s supposed to and sometimes it’ll slap you in the face and continue the action at top speed. And why don’t orders from the tactical mode carry over outside of it? Do I really have to keep smashing the attack button? Even when I go into the tactical mode and tell someone to do something, chances are they might just ignore me.
To go even further, when you hover over abilities in the quick bar nothing pops up. Am I seriously supposed to pause the game and open up the menu each time I want to check an ability’s description? Alright, Inquisition, I’ll do that. Just tell me, why are all of the UI elements flipping out? I can’t scroll down a simple list without the cursor losing its goddamn mind and jumping all over the place. Similarly there’s no information when you hover over your companions’ images, no health, no XP, no stats, no nothing. Status effect are presented as these small specks in the corner of your screen. I needed a magnifying glass to properly identify them.
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Just checking for cobwebs up here.
But wait, humble reviewer, why are you using the tactical mode? Don’t you know it’s useless? No one plays Inquisition like that. Just get into the action and start smashing the buttons. Tactics - who needs them? I finished the game on Nightmare and only had to fire up like two brain cells. Trust me, you should forget about the tactical mode all toge—
No, you forget about the tactical mode! If I wanted to play an action RPG, I would have booted up The Witcher 3. I’m sick of triple-A games converging into this indistinguishable hodgepodge of recycled ideas. This is Dragon Age, goddammit. I won’t let EA trick me into believing this is where the franchise should be heading. I’ll get my share of tactical combat out of this game, so god help me!
Ok, but maybe I won’t be doing that with a mouse and keyboard. Once I realized my old approach wasn’t working any more, I decided to try my luck with a gamepad. Lo and behold things started falling into place. Suddenly I wasn’t playing a busted PC port, but a decent console exclusive.
Without a mouse and keyboard in my hands I wasn’t compelled to play the game the way I used to. The gamepad tricked my mind into approaching Inquisition with a fresh set of eyes. The menus started responding to my inputs. I wasn’t looking for overlays because I had nothing I could use for hovering. No more mouse, so no more futile clicking on objects in the distance. Just tilt the stick and press A. Feels good, don’t it?
If someone had told me I’d be playing a Dragon Age game with a gamepad, I would have urged them to take that filth elsewhere. Today if someone else were to put a gun to my head and order me to play Inquisition with a mouse and keyboard, I would tell them to shoot and end my misery. It’s like BioWare unironically developed a console exclusive and then smashed together a shabby port. To think this franchise was once home on the PC.
Well pardon me, but from now on I’ll be reviewing Dragon Age Inquisition, a spin-off from the main Dragon Age series. This time exclusively on consoles and totally not playable on PC. Don’t let Steam fool you, this thing don’t run with a mouse and keyboard.
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You have to flip a switch and restart the game just to use a gamepad? Whaaat?
Once I was sure the simple act of picking up herbs wasn’t going to make me blow my brains out, I decided to give Inquisition another shot. The tactical mode was still waiting for me. Oh, you didn’t think I was done with it just because I switched over to a gamepad? Silly you.
The gamepad made me feel like I was playing a completely different game. In the PC version the tactical mode worked more or less the same way it did in the previous two games. Pardon me, it tried to work. In the console version time is stopped by default the moment you enter the tactical mode. You don’t press a button to unfreeze time, instead you hold down the trigger to make time move forward. The moment you release the trigger time stops again.
At first this didn’t seem like much of a change. You still issue commands the way you did before. However this gives an entirely new flavor to the combat. Applying different amounts of pressure on the trigger makes time move at different speeds. This means you can let little bits of time slip by if you want tight control over the combat, i.e. you can let it rip at top speed if you feel comfortable with the decisions you’ve made.
To boot some of the issues which were present in the PC version simply aren’t there any more. You don’t get thrown out of the tactical mode for changing the zoom level. Then why on earth was this a problem with a mouse and keyboard? I quickly grew accustomed to the new control scheme and was able to cruise through the tactical mode with ease. However the more time I spent with it, the more I realized just how many holes were drilled through the sides of this ship.
One of the first challenges was figuring out how to zoom in on a particular party member. When selecting the next person using the D-pad the game would reposition the camera onto that person. At least this is how it works outside of the tactical mode. Inside the mode the camera stays put regardless of your selection. This means switching over between ranged and melee units requires you to move the cursor back and forth across the battlefield. Or you could quickly exit the tactical mode, switch to the desired character and then dive back in. Talk about an ideal solution.
The problems don’t stop there. During combat you can open up a hot wheel with additional tactical options as well as access to potions. The potions work as you’d expect them to, but the special commands can only be applied to the entire party. Meaning if I wanted to move Sera to an advantageous position and tell her to stay put, that command would make the entire party stop dead in their tracks.
Orders that should be simple are thus a headache to execute—except, hold on a minute. It turns out you can tell only one party member to hold their ground. You just need to double tap the desired location. I’m going to give the game the benefit of a doubt and say I missed this information because I played the tutorial with a mouse and keyboard. Still, why does this command work differently when issued from the hot wheel?
At least telling your companions to smack someone on the head is easy enough. Have you seen that new warrior skill tree? It has an ability which lets you pull an enemy using a chain and then ceremoniously kick them in the face. Here, let me show you. Come on, Inquisitor, let it rattle. Wait… Why did my Inquisitor miss her shot? She turned 90 degrees away from her target and flipped the chain towards a rock. What a bizarre bug. Let’s try that one more time. It happened again! And again! Now Sera is also shooting at trees.
What’s going on here? My companions keep directing their shots in random directions at random times. Is it because they’re out of range? I’m pretty sure that’s not the case. Are obstacles a problem? No, my Inquisitor is able to chain-pull people through carts. Elevation maybe? No, then she flips her chain in the right direction, but it sinks through the terrain. What the heck then? Am I supposed to make peace with this as well? At lest the ability doesn’t go into cooldown when you miss.
Never mind, Cassandra, go defend that position. Cassandra? Where are you, girl? Why haven’t you moved at all? Are you stuck? Did someone apply some sort of status effect on you? Not that I’d know since the UI doesn’t tell me… Let me just exit the tactical mode and see if I can move you. Yes, I can. Another bizarre bug, I guess. Wait, why is my Inquisitor stuck now? And now Blackwall! And Bull! Stop it, it’s contagious!
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Come to mama.
I remembered somewhere along the way that this was a Dragon Age game and that I didn’t have to manage every single breath a companion takes. So I rolled up my sleeves and opened up the menus looking for the tactical settings. Except there wasn’t much to play around with. The only behavior you can change is potion consumption and the auto-usage of specific abilities.
Where are the in-depth settings that were part of the previous games? Where are the fine-grained conditions? What about behavioral presets? How do my companions act by default? Are they aggressive? Are they defensive? Does this vary based on class? How would I even know?
During this search, I stumbled across a menu letting me tweak various aspects of the gameplay. Among those was an option to toggle friendly fire. Since I was dearly missing the feature in Dragon Age 2, I decided to turn it on. Immediately after Varric blasted me and Cassandra out of Thedas. It did not last long before I relented and turned the feature back off. Some abilities are just to unpredictable to use, chain lightning for example. I let Vivienne zap some poor bastard thinking he was well out of range, only to have the entire party light up like Christmas candles.
The next thing that came to my attention was the cursor and how busted it is. Inside the tactical mode you can move it using a stick. However it can’t go through obstacles. If there’s a log standing between you and your target, you need to circle around it. Why on earth would the cursor be affected by collisions?
Elevations create a new set of problems. You literally have to walk the cursor up the goddamn stairs. But what if there aren’t any stairs? What if my target is perched upon a cliff? There’s absolutely no way to reach them without exiting the tactical mode. The cursor also disappears on slopes. This problem is the most prominent in the desert maps. There’s no way to select a target if it’s standing on the steep sides of a dune.
And don’t even get me started on the cursor’s range. You can’t move it far away from the currently selected character. What if my party members are spread apart? Because of this I couldn’t command my ranged units to attack a target next to my melee ones. So what if they need to move in closer before firing? Make them do that automatically.
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Not the stairs again.
Left to their own devices companions can usually find their way. Usually. This is handled rather well during exploration. Even if a companion gets stuck and left behind, the game will teleport them behind you when you’re not looking. This is simple and seamless.
The same magic trick does not work in combat. Once you press the button launching you into the tactical mode, your companions are left standing wherever they were before that. I once slid down a hill straight into combat and left Vivienne and Sera staring down at me from the top. I powered my way through the encounter out of sheer spite while the ladies must have spent their time bickering.
The very worst example of this is a cave up on the Storm Coast. It’s your usual case of spider infestation, but it was the level’s geometry and not the enemies that my companions could not get their heads around. The first time I entered the cave I engaged in combat only to realize I was alone. Upon closer inspection I found my party stuck outside trying to burrow their way in through a solid wall. The entrance of the cave was 5 feet to the side.
On the second go I made sure everyone was lined up in front of the entrance, but only Solas successfully made it in. He then proceeded to climb up a ladder on his own incentive. I switched over to him, wanting to bring Mr elven supremacy down to earth, only for the entire party to be teleported somewhere outside of the cave. My Inquisitor retained their default combat pose and slid down a hill.
Even when I managed to get all of them inside, they constantly kept getting stuck on walls. The camera was losing its mind and entering and exiting the tactical mode teleported me to random corners of the cave. It’s safe to say I never entered that dungeon again.
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How the hell did you get in here?
You could say I was perplexed the first time I opened up the skill trees. Dragon Age 2 did a good job of tidying up Origins’ level-up system, but on first glance Inquisition went a bit too far. I counted 4 trees per class which was a downgrade from the 6 you had in DA2. Lots of abilities seemed to be missing. Mages only had 3 elemental skill trees and 1 you could call defensive. What happened to entropy? Or blood magic? How am I supposed to create different builds with all these ability points coming in?
The game just stayed quiet and chuckled until I reached Skyhold. After receiving my first Fade ability I opened up the level-up screen and—wait, what’s this? New skill trees? There was a new one per character. I repeat per character, not per class. Dragon Age, I could kiss you right now.
This is hands down the best level-up system in all three games. Not only is it tidy, not only is it measured, but it also guarantees unique builds across different characters. The first thing I did was re-spec the entire party. Now every member has a specific role to play. Blackwall is my indestructible tank, Cassandra is an expert for handling demons and Cole is my precious little glass canon. The only flaw is that those unique skill trees are the exact same ones used for your Inquisitor’s specialization. This means that depending on your class and play-style someone in your party might become redundant. Since I reveled in ripping people to shreds this ended up being Bull for me.
I also like how they handled your stats. The previous two games worked like most traditional RPGs. After a level-up, you’d get a certain amount of points you could invest in your attributes. However Inquisition doesn’t grant these types of points. Instead unlocking certain abilities automatically increases some of your attributes. This is brilliant because it ensures that your character’s stats stay consistent with your desired play-style. So if you want to be a defensive warrior, the defensive skills will pump up your constitution for you.
Besides the skills you’re already familiar with Inquisition introduces some new ones. I admit, I couldn’t immediately see the use for all of them. Varric is a prime example of this. His unique skill tree is all about setting traps, but to what end? You’re rarely ever in the position to lure someone in. Either you stumble upon a pack enemies or you raid their camp. So what am I supposed to do with bear traps?
The game helped me change my mind during the boss fight against the Grand Duchess Florianne. The damn woman kept jumping behind my squishies, sending them to the Maker’s side and then escaping onto a banister where the pathing system said I couldn’t touch her. That’s when I remembered Varric.
Previously I invested points into an ability that let him scatter a bunch of mines. The catch is that each mine applies random elemental damage to anyone who steps on it. At first I didn’t know what to do with it. Enemies usually have one elemental weakness and it’s that particular one you want to exploit. However it turns out you can go to town with this ability as long as an enemy isn’t immune to a particular element or if you’re trying to cover a wider area. Once I let Varric do his thing, I sat back and watched the Duchess destroy her own health bar just by pouncing around the place. It was like an early birthday present.
Inquisition frequently rewards you for playing around like this. During the last fight in Haven I was tasked with holding out against multiple waves of Red Templars. This was by far the most grueling challenge in the game up to that point. Scouring for options, I noticed a convenient bottleneck in the terrain. A giant trebuchet was occupying a corner of the battlements and Solas just so happened to have his ice wall ability. What ensued might be called cheesing by some. I blocked off one side of the trebuchet forcing the Templars to trickle in the other way around. This let me pick them off at my own leisure.
To list one more example, I often had to deal with shadow warriors and harlequins. Rogues have a cloaking ability which makes them invisible long enough to come slash your tendons. You can sort of make out their silhouette, but it’s much better to flush them out as early as possible. So for example, Vivienne can throw Chain Lightning on the closest visible enemy which will then bounce off hidden ones as well.
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Smash his face in, Cassandra!
All of those abilities wouldn’t be as impressive if you couldn’t put them to use. Luckily Inquisition has got you covered. The enemy variety is excellent across the board. For a game of this size it’s remarkable that I only started getting bored of beating people up after the 100+ hour mark. Even then, I’d blame the lack of fun on needless repetition and not on diminishing quality.
There’s a bit of something for everyone. Human opponents come in all shapes and sizes. There are the standard swordsman. There are the bulkier ones with shields whom you have to flank as best you can. Archers are able to knock your head off if you leave them be for too long. Mages are of course as deadly as ever, spawning lethal mines, teleporting out of the way and all in all making your life miserable. Each of the Red Templar variations has something new to offer. Knights are tasked with charging up other units, but they’re sturdy and not so easily taken out. Horrors are dangerous on their own, but instantaneously fatal if you let them get buffed.
There’s also the usual assortment of beasts: wolves, bears, spiders and such. There are a bunch of mini bosses scattered around the world who, unlike regular enemies, are large enough for you to target their individual body parts. This allows for shrewd tactics like crippling a giant’s legs to get access to its head. Overall the enemy variety is so abundant that Inquisition only needs to mix things up a little to keep you engaged long term.
You might have noticed I listed a bunch of things, but still haven’t mentioned the most interesting addition to the combat - the Fade rifts. Not only are they important from a story perspective, but they’re also elegantly designed. Each Fade rift is a perfect combination of known and unknown factors.
A rift usually has two rounds (though I seem to remember encountering ones with three). The first round welcomes you on arrival. It’s a done deal with a set number of enemies. You can gauge the danger from a far and choose to engage of your own accord. The fun starts after you’ve beaten the first round. The rift gives you time for a breather before marking the spots where the next wave of enemies will spawn. It only tells you the number of enemies, but their type and level is up to you to deduce based on the composition of the first round. You only know for certain that the second one will be harder than the first. This allows you to think strategically while also spicing things up with a little bit of randomness.
The game also lets you be cheeky and dispel the demons before they spawn. Only certain abilities can do this, so Cassandra quickly became one of my most valued allies. If you can grasp the opportunity, you can even disrupt the rift to further hinder your foes. Moreover Fade rifts feature enemies you don’t usually encounter outside of them, giving the fights a whole new dimension. You’re already familiar with shades and rages demons, but you’ll soon get acquainted with terrors and despair demons. The former will jump over to knock you on the ground while the latter coats you with a barrage of ice.
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Andraste’s tits, what is that thing?
If there’s one major thing I’d like to criticize about the enemies, it’s the spawning algorithm. I usually like to clean out an area and not worry about it any more. However the designers seemed worried that my goldfish brain would wander off if not constantly massaged with stimuli. Random enemies keep spawning around you all of the time. It’s unbearable.
Every map is affected by this disease. Amidst the Hinterlands, bands of mages and Templars spawn in front of your eyes. Yes, I get it, I need to take care of their respected camps, but could you chill for just a sec? On another occasion I was clearing out a Venatori hideout. I decided to peek inside the next room, with most of my party still behind me. The game thought this would be the perfect opportunity to repopulate the room I had just cleared out while everyone was still standing there. Meanwhile in the desert, bloody hyenas keep appearing behind your back.
And don’t even get me started on the bears. There’s one particular area in the Hinterlands where these bastards spawn. Upon entering it they swarm you like freaking barracudas. I decided to run away except they kept spawning in front of me even after I’ve escaped their designated area. I thought reloading would get me to safety, but the game chose this moment to bug out and overflow me with bears wherever I went.
I think I reached the peak of my frustration in the Emerald Graves. I had just discovered the stag mounts and was instantly in love with them. My Qunari Inquisitor looked ridiculous on regular horses, yet the majestic red stag was just my size. I thought I’d have my Princess Mononoke moment riding through the imposing trees of the ancient forest. Except the game had other plans. I didn’t even get past the first curve in the road before two squads of Freemen sprung up in front of me. Why, hello there. Were you getting lonely?
The only upside is that different enemies don’t tolerate one another. If they cross paths, they’ll waste no time jumping at each other’s throats. So Templars will be kind enough to clear out mages and giants might stomp Red Behemoths on your behalf. Though on one occasion I encountered a group of mercenaries relaxing near a Fade rift. Maybe they were enjoying some afternoon tea with the wisps. Who am I to judge?
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Run wild, my precious.
Concerning bosses, fighting dragons has become sort of a tradition in the series (rather fittingly I guess). The way Inquisition introduces you to the first one in the game is undoubtedly memorable. You walk through a mysterious cave in the Hinterlands and emerge onto a hidden valley. What’s this pretty place? What sort of things are here to explore, I wonder? Oh look, is that a bird in the sky? No, wait… Five seconds later your whole party is running ablaze, wailing in agony.
I love it when games mess with you like this. The things is, there isn’t just one or two dragons in the game. There are ten of these mother fuckers in Inquisition! This is not even counting the two tied to the main quest and the two found in the DLCs. Emprise du Lion (the second worst map in the game btw) has three, I repeat, THREE of them chained together in one corner of the map. Why on earth!?
This wouldn’t be a problem if each dragon wasn’t more of the same. It’s fine if you fight them once or twice, but it quickly starts loosing its charm after that. Their behavior consists of a couple of things. First, they have a phase where they fly over you and bombard you with their designated elemental attack. Second, they can spew out the same elemental attack while on the ground. Third, they have a couple of melee attacks, none too perilous considering you’re up against a dragon. Forth (now this one is interesting), they have a wing flapping attack.
If you’ve fought the dragons in the previous two games, you’ll know the best tactic is to hit them from a afar. Andraste’s dragon becomes a scared little salamander once you’ve spread out your archers and started harassing it from a distance. Inquisition thought of a neat counter to this strategy.
Once in a while the beast will flap its wings sucking in everyone who isn’t already glued to its ass, all the while doing damage with each flap. As far as I could tell this does nothing to the units at its feet, but it rains havoc on your squishies who thought they were safe at a distance. Running away does not work, so ironically the best strategy is to run towards it and then run back out once it finishes. It’s a good dynamic to break up the otherwise monotone fight against a bullet sponge.
The other notable exception are the electrical dragons. Most of the dragons’ elemental attack are easy enough to dodge. These bastards however have a static cage which they can use to infect everyone in your party no matter where they are standing. This thing will wreck your day. The first electrical dragon I came across was 4 levels bellow me and it still ended up being one of the trickiest fights I had in the game. My poor mage had to keep throwing a barrier over us to try to absorb as much damage as possible.
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Hm, do I need a pet lizard?
Considering it regards itself as an open-world game, Inquisition's exploration left me somewhat polarized. There are a dozen of maps for you to explore, ranging from small to absolutely humongous (looking at you Hinterlands). The sheer number of maps is frankly overwhelming. The game sections off most of them until you’ve reached Skyhold, but just glancing at them on the war table made me sweat pin balls.
What’s surprising is that despite their quantity each map has its own thing going on. Crestwood is centered around the submerged settlement, the Fallow Mire’s shtick are its endless waves of undead and the Forbidden Oasis is a maze of arches and hidden passageways. Even the Hinterlands, being the default fantasy map, have a story to tell about the conflict between the mages and the Templar taking over the farmlands.
Despite the fact that each map was conceived with a good premise, some are spread out thinner than the rest. The best example of this might be the Exalted Plains. It’s a map of stark contradictions. The theme of the map is pretty simple: plains that suffered pogroms in the past are once again engulfed in war. Compelling, right?
Well, things get complicated once you start roaming about the place. The Plains’ main highlights are the leftover trenches infested with undead. The army losses were so great that their own fortifications got overrun by corpses of their fallen allies. They present quite a decent challenge and once cleared out are again populated with Orlesian troops. Except… These trenches are huge. There are three on them in the Plains and each takes up a sizeable chunk of the map. Once you’ve cleared them out, they’re teeming with NPCs, none of which you can interact with. They’re just a bunch of fancily dressed props.
The Exalted Plains have the potential to tell a gut wrenching story of war and anguish, but the game barely even tries. If it weren’t for mentions of the civil war in Halamshiral, I would have no idea what’s going on. Imagine coming here before doing the mission at the Winter Palace (although that seems to be the desired order of things). What’s going on in this map? Who’s fighting exactly? Were are these forces stationed? Ok, this guy Gaspard is holding the east bank of the river, but why are his trenches facing one another? Sure, the bridge across the river leading to the opposing force has been destroyed, but is no one guarding that crossing?
What about the local population? There are all these codex entries detailing how the Chantry purified the Plains from the heretic elves. What do these people think of the Orlesians once again torching their land? Where are they even? I came across burned villages, but no refugees scurrying about. There’s only one Dalish camp to the side and they’re chilling in their own bubble as if the war was not raging around them.
It’s even worse when you start filling in the gaps on the map. The designers must have been worried about leaving vast stretches of open terrain, so they copy-pasted the same rocky formation all over the Plains. Over and over and over again. It’s hard to imagine that this is the same map which tucked away ancient elven ruins covered in mist on one side and an abandoned citadel scorched by the literal eye of Sauron on the other.
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So nice making all of your acquaintance.
God, I don’t want to do this, but I guess I have to. Spending time in the Exalted Plains just made me think of how much better The Witcher 3 did it. Velen is to The Witcher 3 what the Exalted Plains are to Inquisition - a land torn apart by war. Yet Velen breaths so much life it seems absurd comparing it to the Exalted Plains in the first place.
In Velen villages are filled with hungry and desperate people. Houses are burning or abandoned. The two opposing forces are clearly camped out on other sides of the Pontar river. Refuges are curled up next to army strongholds. Bandits are roaming around taking advantage of the chaos. A monster infestation is breaking out because of the increased number of corpses. You can speak to a whole bunch of people across the land. You can get involved in the little details that make up their day to day struggles. Famine, missing persons, war crimes - you name it. It’s an incredibly potent mix.
Inquisition is so lucky it came out a few months before The Witcher 3. The quality of the The Witcher 3’s open world is so vastly superior to any of its predecessor (and even most games that came after it) that it makes Inquisition feel like it came out of a different era. It’s hard not comparing it to its contemporary competitor and seeing the huge gap that exists in between. The Witcher 3 has quest markers, but it relies mainly on a form of natural exploration. It drops you onto a hill and then lets you guide yourself across the map using nothing by prominent landmarks. It never repeats itself, each small section of the map feels unique and every crossroad a familiarity I could maneuver around with certainty.
Inquisition on the other hand has its hits and misses. I could navigate the aforementioned Exalted Plains with ease, but I could not for the life of me find my way through the Storm Coast. The backbone of that map is a mountainous region covered in forests. There are hills, ravines, more trees and absolutely nothing in sight which could help you figure out your own location. It’s nice of the game to draw out the path you’ve taken across the map. Otherwise the Inquisitor might have forever been lost in the woods.
Come to think of it, Inquisition does have a lot of problems with the design of its terrain. I feel like one team of designers went into the level editor, imported a flat plain and then rustled it up a bit until it resembled mountains and hills and what not. The results often feel like they’re devoid of any real sense of topography. Then another team of designers would come in and try their best populating the maps with content. I imagine this is how you end up with dozens of castles out in the middle of nowhere with absolutely no roads leading up to them.
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Where the fuck to now?
When you start counting up the tally it’s up and downs across all of the maps, though the good to bad ratio can vary drastically. For example, the Hinterlands is a hodgepodge of a bunch of different things. Its central area, where the mages and Templars clash on repeat, is a good core premise. I won’t forget the first time I went through the creepy tunnel connecting the Crossroads to the demolished village where the mages and the Templars were dueling it out. You step into this thing overgrown with ferns, cloaked in mist and silence, wondering where it will take you, only to emerge onto a hellish battlefield where everyone’s shooting at you from all sides.
Contrary to that I found a castle crammed in the corner of the map, almost as an afterthought. There’s absolutely nothing leading up to it or anything else of interest in the vicinity. You find a group of apostates held up inside. This particular group believes the apocalypse is nigh, so they’re just waiting for it to happen. There’s only one dude you can talk to in the entire keep. His girlfriend just died, but he’s mostly upset they couldn’t go out in a blaze together. For some reason you offer him to join the Inquisition and he says yes. Pardon me, he says yes? The guy who was determined to die a second ago changed his mind on a whim. This was before I gained the group’s trust by closing the breach in their backyard.
To view the glass as half-full again, you’ll see the remains of a decrepit castle perched upon a hill just outside of the Crossroads. You’ll find your way up to it and then beyond a lush lake hidden away from the atrocities of civil war. There are deer jumping around, a small waterfall overflowing into the valley where the mages and Templars are fighting bellow. Suddenly I noticed a red deer hopping through the forest. This one was nothing like the ones I’ve seen before. I chase it after. It must be some special breed, I think to myself. I catch up to it and strike. It turned into a rage demon. Lol, I did insist, didn’t I?
But again, contrary to that the game tasks you with finding a horse master to cater to the Inquisition’s need. I find the guy and his little commune peacefully going about their lives while the FREAKING TEMPLARS ARE BASHING EACH OTHER’S HEADS JUST ACROSS THE RIVER. Pardon me, I didn’t mean to shout. What were you saying, master Dennet? You want me to clear out some wolves for you? What, the angry Templars don’t bother you? You’re also cool with the Fade rift sitting in your backyard? Does it help the crops grow? Oh, I see you’ve got a copy of Hard in Hightown in your attic. Forgive my interruption. Do continue, sir.
The contradictions go on and on and on like this. It all culminates with the worst two maps in the game: Emprise du Lion and the Hissing Wastes. The former is meant to function as an endgame gauntlet. You’re supposed to fight your way up a mountain towards an abandoned castle on the top. The problem is the climb has no business being as long as it is. The aforementioned Suledin Keep is by far the largest fortification in the game, stretching room after room into infinity. The game quickly runs out of ideas, so it keeps throwing the same detachments of Red Templars at you. This is enough to make a woman go mad.
The latter map, Hissing Wastes, is best described by scout Harding’s words: “This space has nothing but… space.” It’s quite literally a desert wasteland. Nothing but vast unending dunes in sight. Playing through it felt like being smothered with a pillow. It was the first time in the game I had to unironically use my mount. Getting from point A to point B would have otherwise been excruciating.
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Good boy, Roach.
All of this makes it seem like I hated Inquisition’s exploration down to its rotten core. It might then surprise you that its highlights were enough to push me through the questionable parts. Most of the time I was led through exploration by genuine curiosity and not some forced sense of obligation (except those last two maps). For all of the things it failed to put into place, Inquisition always had something cool tucked away for me to discover.
Quantity definitely ended up being its Achilles’ heel. I was satiated somewhere around the 100 hour mark and everything after that felt like I was stuffing myself with dessert just so it wouldn’t go to waste. Spoiler alert: I clocked around 140 hours for the base game alone. Inquisition is obscenely long in retrospect, souring up your experience the more you’re forced to spend time with it. It would have been miles better if it cut out half of its content and focused on enriching the essential stuff.
To give you an example, I thought all of the game’s dungeons were excellent. Valammar, Coracavus, Dirthamen, you name it. Coming across these places and realizing they’re completely unique content always put a smile on my face. Although I did stumble upon Valammar way, way before Varric’s loyalty mission became available. Varric, don’t tell poor Bianca we’ve been here before. She’s so keen on showing us around the place, we have to make her believe it’s our first time down here. Oh dear, I’ve even glitched through the secret door she was supposed to unlock for the quest.
While we’re on the subject, Inquisition spent no time at all thinking about progression. Sure, it locks out most maps until you’ve reached Shyhold, but after that it doesn’t bother telling you in what order to approach them or even the minimum level requirement. Unfortunately for the game I had enough points to unlock all of maps at once as soon as I got to Skyhold (the inevitable consequence of being diagnosed as a completionist).
Since the game gave me no guidance I picked a map at random. I went for the Hissing Wastes which, I soon discovered, contained end game content. Since I was clearly over my head I decided to try my luck with something else. That something else ended up being the Deep Roads mission which, even worse, is DLC. So I resorted to Google instead. It’s negligence like this that makes the game look stupid for trying to show me around Valammar. Of course I’ve already been here before - it’s right next to where I recruited Blackwall!
You could say the game directs you to some of the maps through the main quest, like telling you to go to Crestwood to investigate the Wardens, but it does no such thing for most. How are you supposed to know when to investigate the Fallow Mire or the Forbidden Oasis or the Exalted Plains for that matter? I went to the Plains after finishing Halamshiral because nothing else directed me to that area sooner. Upon entering the map I was greeted by level 11 tugs. I was level 18. Guess how that turned out for them.
What’s worse is that you don’t gain any XP by fighting enemies which are 3 or more levels beneath you. This made the entirety of the Exalted Plains a futile venture. The only tangible thing I got out of them are the companions’ quests. If I had been there sooner, I might have utilized the area better. Then again that might have made me over-leveled in some other map. Funny, it’s as if the game has too much content.
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Say, Solas, what does that statue represent exactly?
This is part 1 of a multi-part review of Dragon Age: Inquisition. Click here for part 2 and part 3.
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bookwafflefangirl · 3 years
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lyrical-panic · 3 years
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Hi is it ok to make a enimes to lovers tenya iida?plzzz with a grung y/n???
Yes yes yes YES YES YES
So, as I’m typing this, I’ve got a Google tab with pictures of grunge fashion behind my Pages document because I had no idea what it was before and now I’m obsessed. I can totally see Iida falling for someone with this type of style, it’d be so cute! 
This ended up being really long skjfguanspdifhaosdi
Hope you like what I whipped up!!
Never Hated You
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Masterlist
Prompt List
. . . 
“(L/N)! Get your feet off of the desk this instant!”
You groaned loudly as the class rep marched up to your desk, a stormy look painted across his face.
“Iida, chill out.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your ankles on top of the desk. “I’m not hurting anyone.”
“Be that as it may, I will not stand for the disrespect of school property!” Iida blustered. “Do you have any idea how many great people have sat in your desk, learning to carry on the mantle of hero? How can you sit here and put your feet up on-”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, dude.” You rolled your eyes again, making a big show of putting your feet down. “There, happy?”
“Quite.” The bespectacled boy bristled, not looking happy at all.
You chuckled, waggling your fingers in farewell as Iida returned to his own desk. Kirishima, in the seat in front of you, leaned back. “You sure do like riling him up, huh?”
“Someone’s gotta teach him that not everything needs to be taken so seriously.” You shrugged. “Besides, he’s kinda hot when he’s angry.”
“Dude!” Kirishima laughed in surprise.
“Am I wrong?” You snorted, gesturing to the boy in question, who still looked very irritated, and very handsome. 
Did you find Tenya Iida wildly attractive? Yes, yes you did. You were very vocal about that and you found no shame in it. That being said, did you also find him a little annoying? Yes. So he was not saved from your constant teasing and pestering.
At the beginning of the year, you realized that you seemed to be the epitome of everything Iida detested. You were brash, not afraid to pick a fight, and always had some witty remark to make. You never wore the complete uniform, opting to leave your gray blazer at home, replacing it with your favorite leather jacket. The prescribed neat little shoes had been swapped out in favor of your old combat boots. Iida had just about had a conniption fit when he’d first met you.
Realizing that the overly serious boy was constantly up your ass, and that he was in point of fact very cute, you made it your personal mission to annoy him to the ends of the earth. 
It worked spectacularly. Sometimes a little too spectacularly.
On multiple occasions you pushed too much, resulting in boorish lectures from the much taller boy that you could’ve slept through, if not for the decibel at which he gave them. It never seemed to deter you though. The next day you’d come back with a self-satisfied grin on your face as you plunked your boots up onto your desk. He was too cute for you to stop.
Over time, you stopped teasing him just for the sake of being an asshole. Though you’d never admit it out loud, Tenya Iida was starting to grow on you. You lightened up on the torture, only to spend more time actually trying to get him to talk to you. He always seemed suspicious of you though, to no fault but your own, you figured. So you made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.
“Hey, Iida.” You leaned against his desk after class one day. “Think we could get together over the weekend and do homework? I’m having a little trouble understanding the math stuff.”
“You want me to help you with homework?” Both of the class reps eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. 
“Yeah, man,” You affirmed, chuckling. “Who else would I go to?”
Yaoyorozu. Midoriya. Todoroki. Iida listed in his mind. All of them are doing exceptionally well, and you don’t make yourself the bane of their existences.
“It’s just,” Iida pursed his lips, organizing his thoughts. “I certainly wouldn’t mind helping you if you really need it. I didn’t think you liked me very much, though.”
“And I didn’t think you liked me, but here you are, telling me you wouldn’t mind helping me out.” You chuckled, and smiled sadly. “I’ve never disliked you, Iida.”
. . .
To say you confused Iida would be the understatement of the century. You appeared to him as someone who didn’t care one bit about structure or rules. But as he sat next to you in a coffee shop, explaining quadratic functions, you seemed to really care. You poured over your homework, a pensive look on your face, turning to him every time you came across something you didn’t quite understand.
“I don’t get it.” He said quietly as you scribbled away at your worksheet.
“Really? Cause I’m just starting to.”
“No, not the homework.” Iida sighed, staring at you.
“Then what’s up?” You put your pencil down, matching his gaze.
“Why do you go out of your way to aggravate me so often if you don’t dislike me?”
The question caught you off guard. You glanced away, almost guiltily.
“At first, I did it just to get a rise out of you.” You admitted. “I guess I started getting fond of you though, and I realized that annoying you was the only way to get you to talk to me.”
Now Iida was the one to be caught off guard. “Y-you just wanted to talk to me?” He repeated.
“Yeah, and I thought I had ruined it.” You placed your head in your hand, and swirled your drink around in its cup with the other. “I thought I had provoked you too much by the time I realized I wanted to be your friend. I honestly thought you hated me.”
“Never!” Iida was shocked by the idea. He very rarely hated anyone. When his brother had been attacked, that was the first time that he had ever felt that boiling pit of rage in his stomach. “You irritated me to no end, yes, but I never hated you.”
“Hey, I’ll take it!” You conceded with a laugh.
Iida found himself laughing with you. He watched as smile lines etched themselves onto your face as your grin widened.
“(L/N), what say we start over?” He suggested. “I would like to be your friend, too.”
You gave the boy a disbelieving, yet giddy smile. “I would be more than happy to do that, Iida.”
. . . 
Something very peculiar was happening to Tenya, and it seemed to be your fault.
When you playfully teased him, he swore his heart rate accelerated to five times what was normal. Whenever he said something that made you laugh, he felt like he was on top of the world. He felt butterflies in the pit of his stomach when you’d put your hand on his arm.
None of these feelings were bad, per se. In fact, they actually felt quite good. It was like a calm washed over him whenever he was in your presence. He felt more relaxed than he’d ever been when he was around you.
So, there was no problem with what was happening, but that didn’t stop Tenya from still being wildly confused. 
The feeling also made him want to protect you.
This too was a mystifying thought. He wanted to keep all his classmates safe, of course, but somehow it was different when it came to you. But you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself, you being an excellent hero. You had great control over your quirk, and you knew your limits. Not to mention you “kicked ass” in combat training, to use your words.
Tenya knew all this well, in fact he reminded you of it regularly during training. So why, when villains dropped into the clearing of the training camp, was his first instinct to get in front of you? Why did he grab your hand and pull you closer to him as you ran with your classmates back to the main building? Why did his hand linger on your shoulder even when you were inside and out of the danger?
You asked yourself these questions, too, but you didn’t complain. It’s not like Tenya Iida grabbing you and holding you protectively was a bad thing, but he looked too pale for you to resign yourself to not questioning him.
“You okay, Bub?” You asked, glancing up at the bespectacled boy in concern. 
“What? Oh, y-yes, sorry.” Tenya separated himself from you, but you grabbed his hand before he could get too far, pulling him back to your side.
“This is scary,” You muttered as a way of explanation, your face heating up.
Heat rushed to his face as well, but he didn’t try pulling away again. He readjusted your grip so it was more comfortable. “Yes,” He murmured back in agreement.
You stood in silence for a moment, listening to the rest of your classmates chatter away in fear. You squeezed Tenya’s hand. He repeated the gesture. 
“Tenya?”
The sound of his given name pushing past your lips pleasantly surprised him, but he quickly shook off his confoundedness. “Yes?”
“I was going to tell you something tonight, but I’m afraid my plans have been ruined.” A wobbly smile crossed your face, but it fell almost immediately after. “Once this whole ordeal is over, and we’re all back at school safe, remind me to tell you then, okay?”
“Why can’t you just tell me now?”
You shook your head. “Now is defiantly not the time.”
“Well, alright then.” Tenya squeezed out hand again. “Although I’m afraid you’ve made me quite anxious to hear what you have to say, (Y/N).”
You smiled weakly again at hearing your own first name. “Now you know what it feels like when a teacher tells you to see them after class, Mr. Class Rep.”
. . . 
Tenya remembered your request as he was putting books on a shelf in his new dorm room. He stopped short, the conversation replaying in his mind. As much as he wanted to march himself over to your room that very instant, he resigned himself to waiting.
“I’m still not done settling in,” He muttered to himself, surveying the several boxes filled with personal belongings stacked neatly in a corner. “And (Y/N)’s probably still unpacking, too.”
A new-found vigor to his actions, Tenya found himself hurrying to complete his task. It had only taken the few days spent at home away from you and a quick conversation with his brother for him to realize that he had a crush on you. Reject the idea as he tried, it made a lot of sense. 
He chuckled humorously to himself. What had you done to him? He used to see you as nothing more than a misbehaving delinquent who constantly went out of their way to get on his nerves. So what happened? What did you do?
You befriended him. You had looked at him with that sad, sincere smile, and told him that you thought you’d ruined your only chance of being friends with him. You’d heard him out as he heard you out.
It wasn’t a question of what you had done, not anymore. It was all Tenya.
He had given you a second chance. And he never regretted it for one moment.
He still didn’t regret it, even when you grabbed his arm and tugged him along with the rest of the class to survey everyone’s rooms. He still didn’t regret it even when they got to his room, and you put on a pair of his glasses, flopping onto his bed as you teased him for the shelves full of matching frames.
He especially didn’t regret it when they got to your room, where you proudly stood next to a wall of printed out photos of your friends. Tenya’s eyes drifted to a shot of you and him at the fair, both of you holding ice cream cones.
“Pictures taken moments before disaster,” You remarked, following his eyes and tapping the wall next to the photo cheekily. He smiled, remembering how mere seconds after taking the picture, you had tripped over his foot and fallen flat on your face, taking out not only yourself and your ice cream, but Tenya’s as well.
Ask them, he urged himself as the class headed back to the ground floor. The question never seemed to escape him, though. In fact, when he rushed back inside after he, Midoriya, Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, and Kirishima had been pulled outside by Tsu and Uraraka, you had already gone up to bed.
That’s it. 
Tenya was a man of thought and intellect, not one of action. When the job called for it, he of course sprung to do his part, but not before carefully assessing the situation and weighing his options. So he surprised himself by going up to your room without a second thought, determined to get whatever it was you had hinted at out of you.
“Woah, didn’t I just see you?” You smiled coyly as you answered the door. “What’s up?”
“I wanted-” Tenya paused, eyes narrowing. “Wait, you still have my glasses.”
“Astutely observed.” You sighed, reluctantly handing them over. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. I wanted to see how many days I could wear them before you realized they were yours.”
“You might’ve gotten away with it, if not for me being here now.” Tenya admitted, pocketing the spectacles. “I didn’t realize before.”
“So that’s not why you’re here?”
“No, during the training camp you said you wanted to tell me something, but that you wanted to wait until the… situation was over.”
You made a face. “I was hoping you had forgotten about that.”
“Why? Is it bad?” He asked nervously.
“No, just… weird. I only told you because I was scared we wouldn’t make it out of there alive, but now I’m regretting it.” You sighed. “Come on in, I may as well tell you.”
Tenya closed the door behind him, watching cautiously as you sat on your bed with a huff. “If you really don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”
You considered for a moment. “How long have you been holding onto this?”
He blinked in surprise. “A few hours. I only remembered this afternoon.” 
“A few hours is all you need to get worked up about something. There’s no sense in me not telling you now,” You rubbed your eyes, looking both physically and mentally exhausted “especially if I promised you that I would.”
“Alright then, if you’re sure.” Tenya hesitantly sat himself next to you, now wishing he hadn’t bothered at all.
“Okay, so, uh, we’ve been friends for a while, and I’m really happy for that.” You started, rubbing your hands together thoughtfully. “And I don’t want to put that friendship in jeopardy, but recently my feelings towards you have changed, and I feel like you deserve to know.”
“Have they now?” Tenya’s heart pounded so loudly he worried you could hear it. He wondered if your feelings were anything like his.
“Yeah, they’ve gotten a little more… romantic.” You sighed heavily once again, seeming to resign yourself to your fate. “Okay, I’m gonna just say it: I really like you Tenya. More than as a friend. You’re stubborn, adorable, and always know just what to say, and every time I see you I just wanna kiss your stupid face all over and tell you that you deserve the whole damn world, because guess what? You do!”
Time seemed to tick to a stop. Tenya himself froze, his body stiff and his tongue limp in is mouth. Then his face exploded in color, and all at once, he gained control over his body again. His arm gestured frantically in his regular tic, and his words seemed to trip over each other in an effort to be heard.
“W-w-well thank you for your kind words! I greatly appreciate you telling me this. I have also recently c-come to the conclusion that I, uh, e-enjoy your company more than a friend should as well! I-I’m not sure what this means for us moving forward, b-but-“
You wrapped your fingers around the hand chopping the air wildly. You pressed your lips to his cheek, and rubbed your free hand up and down his arm in a soothing motion. You laughed lightly, but there was no mockery in it. “Thank you, Tenya.” You whispered. 
The boy stiffened once more, before naturally relaxing, leaning into your touch. He mirrored your soft, loving smile, placing his hand not being held by you on your knee gently. “Of course, (Y/N)."
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soriel, 1 (chocolate) for the ask game?
Like a Box of Chocolates
Rating: G Word Count: 2734 Read on AO3: here
---
"Ok. I brought a few choices," Sans said while sitting with his back to the door. He pulled a plastic sack full of chocolate and chocolate-adjacent treats out from under his shirt.
"Oh, you did not have to do that." The voice behind the door sounded embarrassed.
"It's no big deal." He shrugged instinctively, though she wouldn't be able to see it. "Not like I candy things like this for you very often."
The lady laughed, even though the pun was a stretch. She was a great audience like that.
"I cannot argue with that. After all, it is the choco-thought that counts."
Sans let out a wheeze. Man, she had him beat in the bad jokes department. He needed to up his game.
"What can I say, I'm a sweet guy." That joke would work better if she could see his wink.
"You certainly are, my friend."
Sans blinked. He hadn't been prepared for the genuine warmth in her voice. Now he felt something like a melted chocolate himself.
"Uh. You'd better wait and make sure I didn't pick out garbage before you say that." He chuckled nervously and spread out the chocolates in the snow.
"Alright. Hit me with your best choco-shot."
He laughed out loud at that one too. She could really squeeze some mileage out of chocolate puns.
"First off we have the MTT-Brand Chocolate Mettaton. Which is exactly what it sounds like. Chocolate in the shape of everyone's favorite robot superstar." He scanned the back of the wrapper. "Contains sequins and glitter, but it's still monster food, so probably won't cause any more indigestion than Temmie Flakes. Still, wouldn't blame ya if you passed on that."
The lady laughed. "I do not know this 'Mettaton,' but he sounds like someone…"
Her voice trailed off, the way it always did when she neared a personal topic. It seemed to be happening more and more often lately. Sans didn't know if that was a good sign, or if he needed to do a better job of distracting her.
"Someone I know would have liked that," she finished clumsily.
"Welp. It's yours, then." He attempted to slide it under the door.
Attempted. The thick block of chocolate wouldn't fit through the narrow space.
"What are my other options?" The lady asked, not seeming to hear his failure.
(Or just ignoring it. The way they always ignored things they didn't want to acknowledge.)
Oh well. He'd deal with that later, if she wanted to.
He picked up the next box and rattled it. It looked thin enough to fit under the door.
"I think this one's called, uh, pocket?” He couldn’t tell for sure, since the box was labeled in a language he didn’t recognize. Where did Alphys get this stuff? “A pal gave it to me. They’re like chocolate-covered sticks, I think."
"Not precisely what I was looking for, but I would love to try it regardless," she said. "If I am allowed to have both options, I mean. If not, I should probably stick with the Em-Tee-Tee."
Sans bit back a snort. So she hadn't heard after all. That made this a lot more awkward.
"Do you wanna hear the other options first? Wouldn't want ya to have any regrets."
"Oh! There are more?"
She sounded as surprised as a kid finding an extra fry in the bottom of their Grillby's bag. He couldn't help grinning.
"Yup. Next up is a chocolate spider donut—”
“Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders?” The voice seemed on the verge of laughter again.
His eyesockets widened. “Uh… welp. Guess you don’t need the whole spiel, huh?”
“There is a spider bakesale right around the corner from my home,” the lady explained. “I believe they are saving for a… ‘heated limo’? To travel safely through Snowdin. I wish I could help them, but I did not think to take much gold when I…”
Another dead end. That was fine, Sans could piece together enough. Not that her personal life was any of his business, anyway.
“If it makes ya feel any better, they really raked me over the coals for this one.”
“It does not!” came her quick reply. “I only asked for a chocolate bar. Not for you to spend money that you need on me.”
Geez, this lady was too good for him. As if Sans ever really went out of his way for anyone.
Except Papyrus, but he was family. And sometimes Grillby, if he felt bad about failing to pay his tab for too long. And Alphys, but he owed her for screwing off after space-time blew up in their faces.
And now, the lady behind the door. The lady he didn’t owe anything to, except a few good laughs.
Who was he kidding? Those laughs were more important to him than anything.
“Eh, it just cost me one day of selling ‘dogs. Donut worry about it.”
“Very well. Since it was for a good cause, I will not grill you any further. But please tell me that was the last chocolate you purchased for me.”
“It’s the last one I purchased.” He grinned. While she couldn’t see his expression, she must have heard the but in his voice.
“Please tell me you did not steal any chocolate for me.”
“Geez, lady, what do you take me for? I’d never commit petty thievery.”
“Well, that is reassuring.”
“Yep. Gotta save room for the real high-dollar crimes. Like the illegal hot dog stand.”
The voice behind the door went silent. He wished he could see her face now more than ever. His own grin slowly slid from his skull.
“Everyone knows about it,” he reassured her. “If the King really wanted to shut me down, he’d have done it a long time ago.”
“Oh, I am not judging you for that. I am sure the law is rigged against you if the King has any say in it.” Her voice was surprisingly bitter.
His real problem was that he couldn’t ever find the necessary documents to get licensed in food preparation. His birth certificate was presumably in whatever alternate dimension his old man had blasted them out of.
“You are judging me for something, though,” he realized. The chill of the snow seeped into his bones, but he didn’t dare adjust his position. Somehow he felt that if he moved, she would disappear.
“I am not. I was only thinking about…” She sighed. “It is complicated. There was a time when I could have helped you, but it is long past.”
“Help me? Look, lady, the ‘dog stand is fine. Promise. Better than fine, since I don’t gotta pay taxes on it.”
She chuckled at that.
“Very well. Forgive a silly old lady for worrying.”
“Done.” He smiled, settling back against the door more comfortably.
He should’ve known she’d have a problem with his illegal activities, though. She was a classy lady, and he was… him. Why had he even brought it up? It wasn’t a great joke. Did he really just want her to know?
Eh, whatever. She wasn’t mad, so no harm done, right?
“I would like to know how you acquired this other chocolate, if it was not through your sticky fingers.” She sounded like she was grinning.
“Huh? Oh.” He blinked and dug out the last chocolate of the bunch. Blue dusted his cheeks. “QC—that’s the lady who runs the shop in town—gave ‘em to me for free. They’re called, uh, kisses.”
QC had a knowing look in her eyes when she’d offered the bag of chocolates to him. It was his own fault for implying they were for a girl. Everyone already thought he screwed around in the woods on his shifts, and with the way gossip travelled in a small town, everyone at Grillby’s would be asking about his girlfriend tonight.
“Kisses,” the lady behind the door echoed. “This is not one of your jokes, is it?”
“Not this time. Sorry to disappoint.” His grin felt too tight. “They’re, uh, tiny chocolates. Kinda cone-shaped? QC makes ‘em herself, so they’ve gotta be good.”
“Oh.” Oddly, the voice did sound disappointed. Sans couldn’t imagine why. Not like he could kiss her through the door, even if he had lips. And even if there was some unlikely timeline where she wanted a kiss from him.
He wanted to thump his skull back against the door, but there was no point in worrying her like that.
“In that case, I will take the kisses. They will be perfect for…”
He was sure she would leave it at that. Cover up with some non sequitur.
So his eyesockets went wide when she said, “for the anniversary of my child’s passing.”
“Oh.” He let out a strangled little laugh. “I—geez, I’m sorry. If I’d known—”
“You would have what? Spent even more money on this silly old lady, who cannot even leave to buy her child’s favorite chocolate?” Her voice was firm. “No. I thought you deserved to know, after the trouble you went to, and because you shared your own secret with me today.”
“My ‘dog stand is hardly a secret,” he said, still feeling a little shaky. She had a kid? A dead kid?
Well, who in the Underground didn’t have skeletons in their closet? Metaphorically or literally. She was still his best friend. If she wanted his pity, she would’ve said something sooner.
“Regardless,” she said. “It is in the past. Forget it, if you wish. But please do not treat me any differently.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said sincerely. If there was one thing he was good at, it was maintaining the status quo. “So, uh. These chocolates. I kind of wanted you to have all of ‘em, if that’s alright with you.”
“It would be rude to refuse a gift, would it not?” She sounded like she was smiling again, to his relief.
“There’s just one problem. Uh. Don’t think they’re all gonna fit under the door.” He rapped on the stone surface with his knuckle for emphasis.
“I did not assume they would. The recipe I gave you before hardly passed through.”
Sans blinked. “Then you—huh?”
“I will open the door just a fraction. It can only be done from the inside.” She paused, like she was gathering a breath. “I would ask that you do not look. I promise I will not peek, either.”
Sans’s ribcage tightened. She was going to open the door. She would be right there, with no stone between them.
The thought opened a desperate floodgate within him. He hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to see her, to know her, to live off of more than just scraps and unfinished sentences.
She once had a child. She had some kind of beef against the King. She wanted to give charity to spiders, but didn’t have enough money. All these facts he filed away, tucking them into the grooves in his ribcage.
It would be enough. He’d duct tape those gates shut again, if he had to. He wasn’t going to betray the trust she’d shown him.
“Got it. You don’t wanna be smitten by my good looks, I understand,” he joked.
(He had a feeling it would be the other way around, if anything. Not that quality of jokes translated to quality of appearance—he would know. If it did, he’d have biceps like his brother.)
“It would be tragic. Much too high a price for you to handsome chocolate to me.”
“Heh, I’m sure you’re a door-able too. But I’ll keep my sockets shut, since our friendship hinges on it.”
That got a raucous laugh out of her, the kind that started off high-pitched and quickly became something of a snorting bleat. That sound was sweeter than chocolate to him.
...Man, his pals at Grilby’s would be right to dunk on him. He was a massive dork.
“Alright,” she said once she caught her breath, “if you are ready, my friend…”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Better choco-late than never, huh?”
That one only got a snort, but he wasn’t sure if that was because the pun fell flat, or because she was nervous. As far as he knew, she hadn’t been outside of the Ruins in years. And here she was, trusting a sentry—someone whose job it was to keep a look out—to turn a blind eye.
It was a good thing he’d never been good at his job.
Stone ground against stone with a dramatic rumble. His eyesockets stayed shut. Warmth emanated from somewhere near his shoulder, and he lifted the bag of chocolates.
His small hand brushed a large fur-covered one. A shiver trailed down his spine. One small touch shouldn’t have done so much to him, but—but she was real. She was more than just a voice behind a door. Which he knew, but knowing and feeling could be worlds apart at times.
She took the bag, and the moment was over. But the door didn’t close.
“My dear friend,” she whispered, her voice sounding closer than ever. “Would it be presumptuous to ask another favor of you?”
“‘Course not. Glad to do a favor for my favor-ite person.” He kept his tone light, unaffected by the swirling emotions inside him.
“If I could… oh, dear, this is embarrassing.”
He resisted the urge to open his eyes, to see what look might be on her face.
“It has simply been so long… may I hold your hand a moment longer?”
He felt the marrow heating within his bones.
“That all? I gotta hand it to ya, you made me think you needed an arm and a leg.”
She chuckled before awkwardly fumbling to grasp his hand again.
Heat poured from her palm into his phalanges. Aside from the fur, there were several spots of soft skin—probably paw pads. Was she a dog monster, like the Canine Unit in town? She didn’t make nearly enough dog jokes for that to be the case. Her laugh sounded more like a goat’s, but she obviously didn’t have hooves. Maybe she was some kind of chimera? You didn’t see those often nowadays, but then again, no one saw monsters from the Ruins, either.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice as soft as the snow that began to drift around him.
“Not disappointed?” He asked, only half-joking. “My hand can’t be as comfy as yours.”
“Ah, but it is all your bone. And that is wonderful to me.”
“Geez, old lady.” He was grateful she couldn’t see his blush. “You’re pretty fur-fect yourself.”
When she laughed, her body shook all the way down to her hand. The feeling more than made up for all the G he’d spent on chocolate and donuts.
Suddenly his hand was being lifted up, and then something soft pressed against his knuckles. His soul flared erratically, and his eyes nearly flew open. If they had, he was sure his left eyelight would have been blue from shock.
“A kiss for a kiss,” she said slyly. “It is only fair.”
“Heh heh…” His voice shook with more than laughter. “Technically, that was one kiss for a bag of kisses. Pretty sure that math doesn’t square up.”
“Oh, you are quite right! One day we will have to circle back and rectify that.”
He practically had to cast gravity magic on himself to keep his eyes from flying open.
“You—huh?” He said intelligently.
“Perhaps not soon,” she clarified. “This has all been… a lot, for me. But thanks to you, my dear friend, this day has not been so bitter as I am used to.”
“Uh, no problem, then. With all that chocolate, I hope it’s sweet.”
Sweet as the anniversary of a death could be, anyway. He grimaced. Maybe that joke was too soon, but she just squeezed his hand before finally letting go.
“I do think it will be,” she said softly. “I will look forward to hearing more of your punny jokes tomorrow.”
The door scraped shut, and he hesitantly opened his eyes. He couldn't help inspecting the door to see if anything changed. Pressing his still-warm hand against the smooth stone.
“Heh. Good luck getting rid of me now.” He grinned.
Then he tucked his hands in his pockets, where her kiss remained like a tattoo on his bone.
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nikethestatue · 3 years
Text
Spy Games
Elriel Month - Day 3
Spying
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Spying Lessons
Elain, the pretty, polite, courteous sister, who spoke well and moved gracefully, was also one who was never considered with any seriousness by anybody. Not her mother, not their weak, gentle father, not the imperious, sharp-tongued Nesta, or the self-assured, determined Feyre. However, she was a merchant’s daughter, and she was as sharp-eyed, as Nesta was sharp-tongued. 
She inherited the trait from their father--he was always able to spot a deal, or a weakness, a loophole and he used it to his full advantage when making deals. She watched him, and learned how to use her words, how to compliment and smile, how to appear innocent and helpless, while seeking favors and looking to get what she wanted. It worked. It worked with everyone--it worked with Nesta, worked with their servants (when they had them), and when they didn’t, and had nothing, Elain always managed to charm someone at the market for an extra apple, a couple of bread rolls, or a swath of cloth. Even Lord Nolan was not immune to her charms, and even though there were better offers from others, he encouraged Greyson to court Elain, despite her family's ‘reputation’. Elain loved Greyson, but she also watched and noticed. She saw groves of ash trees, the number of sentries patrolling the walled estate, and how many guard dogs there were. She didn’t even try, but she noticed...and counted...and remembered.
Nuala was good. Smooth and discrete, she’d never be suspected of keeping tabs on Amren. Though Amren was a vengeful Angel of a young god in her previous life, and she probably knew what Nuala was doing. Yet, Nuala was not so good as to suspect Elain. Because Elain knew as well. It came as a surprise, but it was apparent to Elain that Nuala closely monitored Amren, as well as Varian, when they were around. 
They were making lemon cakes in the kitchen--Elain and the twins. Baking and cooking--many assumed that that’s what Elain was good for--the kind, tidy, domestic Elain. What no one, except for one person, was privy to was that these chores quieted the roaring in Elain’s head. They silenced the visions, cleared the pounding in her skull, gave her a sense of normalcy, even if for only a little while. 
“What do you think Varian reports to his High Lord?” the question startled the twins and they exchanged quick looks.
Elain’s face remained placid, as she busied herself with grating lemon zest. “Do you think they laugh?” she chuckled. “Our court is dramatic, to be sure.”
The twins were silent. 
“Is it wise though,” she continued, uninterrupted, “to have a representative of another Court so closely entwined with the affairs of the Night Court?”
“The High Lord trusts Prince Varian,” said Cerridwen, her voice neutral.
“Perhaps.”
Elain stirred the zest into the custard and there was silence, the twins assuming that the conversation was over. 
“Does Azriel?” she suddenly asked.
They stared. 
“Does Azriel trust Varian?” she pressed.
“The lord,” began Nuala, but Elain interrupted. “Not High Lord,”
“Lord Azriel,” corrected Nuala, “does what he must to keep the Night Court safe.”
That explained everything.
“Could Azriel use another pair of eyes and ears?” Elain didn’t even know where the offer came from. Perhaps, it stemmed from the desire to be useful, to offer something of herself that so few knew that she even possessed. She turned to the twins and stared them down, her gaze unflinching.
“Teach me,” she pleaded. “Teach me what you know. What and how you do it. Please.”
“Lord Azriel may not approve,” countered Cerridwen softly.
“Let’s not tell him,” whispered Elain,
“Lord Azriel will know.”
“Eventually. I am not asking you to lie to him,” she added quickly, sensing that this was the reason for their hesitation. “Just don’t tell him. Not yet. Teach me, a little something, and then I’ll decide if it’s for me. Please. I,”
“Fine,” said Nuala. Cerridwen gave her a silent look of admonishment and surprise, but did not argue. Perhaps that would come later. “We’ll teach you the way he taught us.”
“Yes!” Elain’s brown eyes sparkled with excitement. Goodness, she hadn’t felt this excited in….well, forever.
The lessons were not what she expected, but she did not question them.
There were no weapons, or peeking through peepholes, or breaking locks.
At first, it was a little bit boring even. Odd requests, such as making conversations with random faeries--in the park, on the street, at the markets. The twins would point out a fae and order Elain to go and start a conversation. It lasted for weeks, and she even grew frustrated, thinking that they were just humoring her and these ‘lessons’ were nothing but a game. Until one day, Nuala told her to obtain specific information. She pointed at an elderly male Fae and requested, “Approach. Come back with the following information--did he serve in the first War, what rank, does he have children, how many, and what is his favourite breakfast?”
“What?” Elain stared in confusion, but Nuala’s face remained inscrutable. 
“Is there a problem?” asked Nuala. Her tone of voice...well, the tone was very much Azriel’s.
Elain shook her head and said, “no”, before crossing the street and approaching the male fae.
The realization that she could do this was thrilling. At once, she understood why she spent all those weeks approaching and making conversations with all those fae. She found ways, ways to ingratiate herself to them, to mark something small, but unique to each one, and then weave a connection around that tiny tidbit. It worked every time. 
The elderly male fae had a small, but noticeable limp. This was Elain’s opening. He was hauling a basket of groceries, and she approached gently, offering help. Oh, he couldn’t possibly trouble such a pretty lady. And she was a High Fae to boot. No, no, thank you, he could manage. Not a problem at all, she was walking that way anyway. What was he making for dinner with all those vegetables? Oh, soup? Did the wife send him to the market? Oh, a widower? So sorry. Were there children to assist? Three? That’s good that they helped out…
“He was a Captain in the Third Legion during the first War. He is a widower, with three children--two male, and one female. Three grandchildren as well. He usually eats leftovers for breakfast, because he is too lazy to cook, but his favorite breakfast are almond croissants from the Brea Bakery,” reported Elain.
A small, satisfied smile touched Nuala’s lips.
So the lessons continued. She was ordered to obtain more detailed information, and in places which were harder to access. She did. Sometimes, she failed, but rarely.
In addition, Cerridwen began training her on walking. 
Walking? 
Walking.
“Make your presence unknown,” she explained and Elain only nodded. Sure, she would learn to walk, if that’s what was required. She learned how to roll her feet in such a manner that they were completely silent with every step that she took. Learned how to notice her own body, its presence, and the space that it occupied. And learned how to make it unknown. How to melt into shadows, stand near someone and have them be unaware of her, sneak quietly into rooms and spaces. It took a month, maybe longer. Meanwhile, she learned other tricks. How to swap papers, how to pull documents with a flick of her wrist, how to read upside down (very difficult). 
“Could you take this to Lord Azriel please,” Cerridwen handed Elain a folder. 
“Um...yes, of course,” Elain took the folder, a bit surprised that Cerridwen couldn’t deliver it herself, but by the time she was going to ask, Cerridwen had disappeared.
First things first--Elain didn’t know where Azriel was.
The River House was enormous, so she started with Rhysand’s office, but it was empty. She peeked out into the garden, but only saw baby Nyx and his nanny, who was attempting to contain Nyx on a picnic blanket, and failing. Elain smiled. Nyx crawled like a fiend and made an aggressive beeline towards the fluffy peonies. No doubt, they’d be trampled and pulled soon enough. Especially, if the nanny wouldn’t take her eyes off the handsome delivery male who was standing by the gate and flirting with her.
Elain closed her eyes. Smell. Sense. They haven’t gotten that far in their training yet, but Azriel’s scent--oh, she knew it well. The most delicious scent to ever hit her nostrils. The one scent that she craved and hungered for above all others. Even in this huge house, she could isolate Azriel’s scent, as it rose above all others, at least for her. The strongest trail led to Azriel’s bedroom, which was unsurprising, even if he did not spend much time here anymore. He and Rhysand met to discuss matters of state, and then there were the mandatory ‘family dinners’ that Azriel attended. They used to be obligatory, but after the last Solstice, they became mandatory, by order of the High Lord. 
No, Azriel wasn’t in his bedroom. She followed the scent down the hallway, past the drawing room, then up the side stairs. Ah. She should’ve guessed. There was a terrace that overlooked the garden that Azriel favored. Sometimes, she thought that he observed her from there, when she tangled with weeds and seeds. But that couldn’t be. Not after the fiasco during the last Solstice and him pulling away from her with no explanation. A momentary lapse of reason on his part.
She spotted the spread of his wings. A smile touched her lips. How things were different before, when he was so comfortable around her. When he’d come and sit with her in the garden, sunning his wings, doing his work, both of them enjoying each other’s company without the need to talk. All of that somehow crashed and burned, and she didn’t know why and how to bring that intimacy back.
“Azriel,” she said, “Cerr,”
Azriel flinched and whipped his head to her. His eyes blew wide at the sight of her, standing in the doorway.
“Elain...Phhh, you startled me….” he muttered hoarsely.
And the Spymaster of the Night Court shifted with discomfort. 
She had surprised him. 
“Sorry,” she murmured and handed him the folder. “I apologize. Cerridwen asked me to give this to you.”
He was still staring at her, as if processing what had occurred. His hazel eyes raked over her body, settling on her feet for a few moments. It was like he was trying to discern how she managed to approach him so silently.
“Umm, thank you,” he said and opened the folder. It was empty.
Neither one said anything to each other, and Elain turned and stepped back into the house, her cheeks flushed.
As she hurried down the hall, Cerridwen and Nuala both appeared in front of her, grins plastered on their lovely angular faces.
“What?!” she snapped. 
The grins widened.
“There was nothing in the folder!” she exclaimed, irritated.
“No,” agreed Cerrdiwen. “But you passed the first phase of your training.”
“You surprised Lord Azriel.”
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inkykeiji · 2 years
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babyyy💕 i need to know!! do the characters in bmb AU have social media?? does reader post her lavish gifts and expensive trips online?? does tomura show off his bby in his ig? or are they concerned abt their safety? does dabi spend hours on his phone going over reader’s pics? is daddy tomura controlling over what the reader posts? UGH THE ANGST POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS😭💕💕
love you lots, stay safe💕💕💕
honestly anon this is such a brilliant question oh my god
tomura is not an instagram—or social media—type. he doesn’t understand the point and, quite frankly, he thinks it’s a total waste of time. he has more important, more interesting things to be doing than mindlessly scrolling through social media feeds. he limits his princess’s time on social media as well, claiming it’ll rot her brain if she spends too long on there. admittedly, he does think it’s really fucking cute, the way she gets so excited to post all the pretty presents and splendid trips and ornate dinners he spoils her with, but he definitely does need to approve every single post, and even masquerades as an anonymous follower, just so he can keep tabs on her (and yes, he has her notifications on).  
despite his great fashion sense and keen aesthetic, dabi’s social media feeds/timelines are a total mess. they’re a combination of kitten videos, dudes wiping out during extreme sports (snowboarding and skateboarding in particular), and good looking people. originally, he was really just on there to kill time when he was bored, only using it for a quick laugh and rarely spending more than an hour or so total on any given app for the day. if he’s being honest, he still doesn’t understand the point of a ‘theme/concept’ or brand for your social media, and he actually didn’t post to his accounts until he started hanging out with reader (before this he had no desire to post shit esp when he has no friends on there anyway and is cautious about safety). but then, one afternoon while they were lounging around lazily in the sun, she asked, soft and shy with excitement toying with the corners of her lips, if he had an instagram and if she could follow it. and suddenly, he felt like posting more. it felt like a way to communicate the feelings he so desperately couldn’t put into words, sharing certain songs that said it all so much better than he ever could on his stories, or giving her a glimpse into who he his, into his mind and his life, by posting about his favourite sci-if novels and films, knowing that they’d spark the start of a conversation the next time he saw her. eventually, social media becomes a way for him to document the time he spends with her, snapping photos and filming cute videos, all under the guise of it merely being ‘instagram content’. but truthfully, he really likes collecting these memories, and he keeps them all safe and sound in a cherished folder hidden deep within the recesses of his phone. he definitely always gets giddy when she posts something with him in it, or something that is clearly an inside joke between the two of them, even tho he'd never admit it <3
reader loves social media and has a solidly curated feed. it’s one of her hobbies, more or less; she genuinely enjoys taking the time to carefully craft it all together, from setting up the photographs to editing the pictures to arranging her posts in an aesthetically pleasing way. she definitely does delight in showing off the gorgeous gifts her Daddy buys her and, thanks to the luxurious and expensive content and her decent photography skills, she has a fairly large following. being fawned over by complete strangers is such an ego boost, and she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t receive a little jolt of pride with each ‘luckyyyyy :(’ and every ‘you’re so pretty!’ comment. however, like dabi, she also thinks of her instagram as a place to chronicle her life; a place where sentimental memories and special moments are preserved forever <3
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sofwrites · 3 years
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for the prompt thing; polin + 41
41: sitting close and knees touching | Also my entry for Polin Week Day 3: Modern AU
A modern twist on Penelope finding out about Colin's journals
Themes: angst, yearning, teasing | Length: 2.3k
Read on ao3 or under the cut | masterlist
Thank you for requesting! xx
He hadn’t planned on telling anyone. He really hadn’t planned on anyone seeing them. And he really really hadn’t planned on anyone ever reading them.
The only reason Colin had even started keeping a journal was to remind himself that he was a real person on his travels- that he had the power to leave something permanent on earth. That he wasn’t completely wasting his time flitting from country to country- desperately trying to find some sort of purpose in his life.
Again, he hadn’t planned on anyone seeing them.
But one day he was painstakingly hiding his journals in a deep, hidden corner of his laptop, and the next, Penelope Featherington had found one. She’d found one then read. And somehow, she thought they were good. Actually good. Not I’m-only-saying-this-to-be-nice good.
And, sure, it had all happened by accident, but after some time, Colin was so incredibly thankful that it did.
He’d been hiding out in Eloise’s flat (Anthony had texted about wanting to meet that afternoon because- well, it didn’t matter really. The fact of the matter was that Colin had no desire to do so) when the buzzer rang.
He ignored it and continued to flip through the book in his hand.
But then it rang again. And again.
And on the fourth ring, Colin finally groaned and forced himself off of the sofa.
It was barely a second after his finger had reached the speaker that a loud, rather familiar-sounding shriek rang out. “Eloise!! Eloise! Please tell me you’re there!”
With a snort, Colin cut the voice off and buzzed them in. And in roughly a minute (an impressive feat considering that Eloise lived on the fifth floor), he saw a bouncing bit of red hair through the peephole and opened the door.
“Thank God, I really need-” Penelope froze mid-step in the frame as her eyes traveled up to reach Colin’s face. For a moment, she just stared, her mouth parted open. And then she swallowed and gave a quick shake of the head.
With a slightly forced smile, she nodded and swept past him, looking around as she went towards the sitting room. “Is Eloise in?”
“She’s not,” Colin answered flatly as he casually leaned against the closed door. He kept an impressively blank expression as Penelope haphazardly rifled through Eloise’s desk, roughly blowing a few loose curls out of her face. “Looking for something?”
Penelope either missed or simply ignored the teasing tone as she frantically moved her search to the sofa cushions. “Did she leave her laptop here?”
“Don’t think so. Though I’m not entirely sure- all she told me was to try not to empty her entire fridge.”
Normally, that would have elicited Colin a laugh or an amused smile, but all Penelope did was let out a groan. A groan that bizarrely caused his stomach to flip. He glanced away from her, clearing his throat. ”Erm- but if you need a laptop, I do have mine.”
Penelope looked up at him with such sharpness that it caught him a bit off guard. “You do? Can I borrow it?”
He blinked at her for a moment, but quickly nodded and motioned to his bag near her feet. He’d barely muttered a “Course” before she’d already retrieved and set it on the table.
“Oh, password’s-” Colin balked for a second, his mouth still open. He’d never told anyone his password before, and it felt… Odd. Unnerving to give away such a private piece of information. But Penelope was looking up at him again, eyes huge and slightly feral, antsy fingers hovering over the keys. He rubbed the back of his neck before mumbling, “GregorySux. With an x.”
The tips of Penelope’s fingers froze as the corner of her mouth twitched, but she bit her lip as she looked down to type.
“He kept hacking into it,” Colin said in an attempt to justify himself.
She seemed so focused on the screen that he thought she hadn’t heard him, but, almost absentmindedly, Penelope said, “Don’t think it’s hacking if your password is literally Password.”
He gaped at her. “I can’t believe Eloise told you!”
This time, Penelope just shrugged in response, her attention completely taken away. The only sounds that filled the room were those of her lightning-quick typing.
He stood there for a moment, feeling uncharacteristically awkward as he watched her fingers work. And then he cracked his neck before nodding. “Right, I’ll give you a minute…”
And as he reached Eloise’s toilet, it occurred to Colin he’d never before been alone with Penelope- not really. He’d known the girl for over a decade, but they’d never really been friends. They were friendly and had spent a decent amount of time together, but there’d never been a real closeness, definitely not one where they could spend a casual afternoon hanging out.
But Colin had never had trouble with finding the right words to say, so it shouldn’t be different with Penelope, right?
He’d asked her about work- that was safe. And maybe how her recent trip with Eloise and Frannie had been- also another safe topic. After that, it’d be no trouble.
But when he reentered the hallway, Colin immediately noticed how quiet it had suddenly gotten- the air completely absent of any hasty typing. Silently, he peered inside the sitting room.
Penelope was still hunched over his laptop, her mouth parted slightly as she stared at the screen. The only movement of her hands was to scroll, but her eyes were running across the screen at an inhuman speed. He watched her for a moment, the corner of his mouth rising unconsciously as her lips mouthed a few words.
He felt intrigued.
Not intrigued by her- of course. But rather intrigued by what had entranced her so much that she couldn’t dare peel her eyes from the computer.
She didn’t react as he crept behind her, looking over her shoulder to see the screen. The brightness was a bit lowered, but he could see a Word document. He leaned a bit closer, eyes squinting as he read a random line.
Imagine you’re at a party, feeling weightless and invincible-
Wait- he recognized those words.
Colin’s eyes flew to the title of the page, which very clearly read, Italy, 09/03/19.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Penelope yelped at the sudden noise, turning her head so quickly that her forehead made contact with Colin’s nose.
“OW!”
And that was how it had all started. A frantic Penelope, a trip to the toilet, an accidentally minimized Word document, and a (luckily) not broken nose.
He’d been angry at first… Well, really, he’d been fairly livid about the entire thing. Not because he was necessarily mad at Penelope, who had accidentally opened the tab initially, but rather because he felt… Embarrassed. It was embarrassing having one’s little sister’s best friend accidentally come across their greatest secret.
But even though he wanted to forget and pretend it all had never happened, Penelope had been unrelenting. After an assurance that what she read had been good, she’d practically demanded that he let her read through the rest of his work.
And now, weeks later, here they were sitting next to each other at his kitchen table, two cups of tea and a printed-out version of his journal laid out in front of them.
“What was it you were trying to say here?” Penelope asked, her eyes rolling over a highlighted section of an Australia entry.
He looked down at the page, following where her finger rested. Instantly, he felt himself flush a bit. She was pointing out a particularly convoluted metaphor he’d written, one likening the magnificent sunset to the familiarity of reading one’s favorite childhood book for the first time as an adult.
“Erm…” He cringed, unable to say anything else.
It was still so odd- the not knowing what to say. Colin Bridgerton wasn’t someone who ever had trouble figuring out his words, and yet… And yet having Penelope had that effect on him. Or, more likely, having Penelope inspect his work, dissecting every word that had ever come out of his brain, make him feel insecure in a way he never was.
It wasn’t so much that it was Penelope, of course. She was his sister’s best friend, a woman he’d known since they were barely grown. It would have been like that if anyone else had seen his work, he was sure of it.
But even still- he found himself staring at a rogue curl on her cheek, his hand twitching to reach up and tuck it away.
“Colin?” Penelope interrupted his roaming thoughts, abruptly looking up at him. Her lips pinched together once she saw his expression, pulling themselves down into a small frown. “Colin,” she repeated in a softer voice. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were a fantastic writer. It’s just that everyone needs a little editing- even the best of us.”
His head tilted slightly as he looked at her, suddenly caught on her use of the word, us. “Do you write a lot then?”
Penelope’s lips slowly formed a smile as she looked at him, a hint of hesitation on her face. She sighed, taking a moment. “Well, actually-” But then she cut herself off, suddenly resembling the same shy Penelope he hadn’t seen in years.
Colin found himself leaning in, putting both arms on the table in front of them, desperate to hear the end of whatever she’d wanted to say. He could feel his knee bumping into hers, but neither of them moved. “What?” he prompted, surprised to hear how faint his voice was. There was something about the moment that was making it rather difficult to breathe.
Penelope was looking back at him with an intensity, mouth slightly parted as she licked her lips reflexively. There was nothing inherently seductive about the movement, but- But something about the way her tongue flicked out made Colin’s stomach clench uncomfortably.
“Uhm,” she whispered, only hearing the loud beating of her heart. No one knew about her secret, other than her editor. And it would surely be a disaster if anyone ever found out …
But she had found out about Colin’s secret, albeit by accident. It felt only right that he should know hers as well…
But if she were being truly honest, she didn’t care very much about her secret at that present moment. Not when the two green eyes she had spent her entire adolescence (and much of her early adulthood) pining over were staring directly at her, looking as though they could see through her entire soul.
Every breath was an effort, every movement was the most difficult task in history. The spot where their knees were still gently pressed against each other felt like it was on fire, spreading itself across her body. She’d been in so much shock when the contact had happened that she hadn’t moved away. And then she’d been astonished when he hadn’t either.
Penelope couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about, and it almost appeared that Colin… That Colin shared the same sentiment.
It felt like she was dreaming. Somehow, he was staring at her with just as much intensity as she was to him. She wasn’t sure if anyone had… She was quite certain that no one had ever looked at her like that.
Colin swallowed as he stared at her, taking in every freckle spread across her nose and every loose curl surrounding her face. He could see her eyes clearly for perhaps the first time in his life- a beautiful shade of warm brown with golden flecks throughout the iris. And then his eyes unwillingly moved, flickering to her lips as she licked them again, causing his gut to wrench painfully.
And then he realized that his hands on the table were so close to her own, the one still resting on his forgotten journal excerpt.
Almost without meaning to, his pinky twitched, moving just enough to meet hers. His breath hitched as he looked back up to meet her gaze.
Neither of them moved, as if moving would break something fragile. As if moving would forcibly tear them from the moment they were.
But then- he wasn’t sure how long- Penelope’s soft eyes left his, darting down to rest on their touching fingers. And then her eyes widened, and her entire body jerked backward, and suddenly Colin’s knee was incredibly cold.
Her chair made a loud scraping noise against the floor as she jumped up, startling him out of the hold he’d been under. “Pen-?”
“It’s getting a bit late,” Penelope muttered through a quick breath, quickly stashing away her belongings. “I’ll finish this at home, and we can meet another time to discuss it. Maybe coffee- next week.”
Colin frowned, getting out of his seat, and taking a few steps towards her. Quietly, he said, “Or you could stay here?”
Penelope froze for a moment before slowly retrieving her keys, gaze firmly locked onto the ground. All he could see were her eyelashes as she blinked.
He bent down slightly and reached out to lift her chin. “Or you could stay here,” he repeated with a bit more reverence in his voice. “We could get some dinner and- talk.”
Penelope swallowed as her eyes rested on his face for a fraction of a moment, but soon enough, she pulled away again. Her fingers trembled as she draped the bag over her shoulder, shaking her head as she looked towards the door. “Erm, no, sorry. I really- really need to go, Colin.”
And then she all but sprinted from the flat, leaving a speechless Colin Bridgerton behind.
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prettywordsyouleft · 3 years
Text
To Be Continued - Part 2
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Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead
Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)
Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy
Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>
Word count: 2205
Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue 
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Once you stopped laughing with your panic, you did what any other logically thinking person would do and rang the police. And you waited at your front door, not touching anything within your home in case you tampered the evidence further. You were already scolding yourself for eating the food prepared for you. What if it had been poisoned? You thankfully didn’t feel any worse off with your cold, if anything, you felt loads better.
Still, the anxiety ran high within you until the two officers finished checking everything over.
“It looks like the person who did this knows you intimately,” Constable Park said with a brief frown. “We’ll run the fingerprints we’ve managed to find through our system to see if they’re in it but I’m not sure what more help we can give you, Miss L/N.”
“Thank you, Constable, I appreciate your efforts all the same.”
“You said you’re a famous author, right?”
You grimaced. “I wouldn’t say famous.”
“I’ve heard of your name before,” Officer Yoon mentioned with a sheepish grin when you glanced at him in surprise. He chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “My girlfriend reads your stories.”
“Ah. Please tell her I said thanks.”
“Could I actually get your autograph to give to her? I’d be in her best books for-”
“Dowoon!” Constable Park cut in sternly, causing the taller man to shrink back.
“I don’t mind,” you offered and headed back to your office for a pen and paper. You stopped when you noticed your favourite pen was missing. Surmising it had been moved during the police search; you reached for another pen and then wrote down a quick message for the young officer’s girlfriend before signing it.
You stopped again, staring at the message still displayed on your screen.
Your biggest fan.
Constable Park was back at your side again and you glanced up at him. “You mentioned just now about me being known and the message here…”
“Just make sure you keep the doors locked and maybe invite someone around to stay with you for the time being. As harmless as it’s all been, we do have more than one fingerprint detected today. Since you live alone and haven’t had anyone over in some time, we can confirm there was a second person in here last night. I know it’s easy to spend time being grateful to your avid followers but be careful with who you share your personal information with.”
A chill shuddered its way down your spine and you nodded hastily, taking the card the man held out. He smiled comfortingly. “If you have any other problems, Miss L/N, this is my direct line. Contact me right away, okay?”
“Thank you, Constable Park,” you replied weakly, reading the card and finding that his first name was Sungjin. You smiled when you looked back up at him. “I appreciate it.”
“Alright Dowoon, let’s head out and I’ll be in contact when we’ve checked the database,” Sungjin – Constable Park – stated and you nodded once more as you handed the autograph to his colleague. Dowoon grinned bashfully and thanked you all the way back to your front door, where you fare-welled the pair.
And promptly locked and latched the front door.
You had lived alone since your early twenties, too independent to work well with roommates. Whilst you had started out in a small, frigid apartment, you had cherished the space alone to create your fantasies into novels. You had only moved to your modest villa within the last year and adopted Binks, the only company you needed on a daily basis outside of your characters.
You weren’t recluse by any means, you just preferred your own company. Socialising was exhausting for your introverted ways, and even though you wanted to play it safe, you slumped down on the couch after the police left and groaned at how exhausting today had been so far.
“I’m sick, that’s adding to it,” you said out loud, and then caught yourself doing so, snapping back upright in your position. “I talk out loud to myself a lot, don’t I?”
Of course, your belongings didn’t reply. And Binks had gone into hiding when Sungjin and Dowoon were here, being afraid of men entirely.
Thinking over the care the stranger had given to even your cat, you decided they had to be female. It didn’t ease your mind any assigning a gender to this person. But it did help you feel as if you were getting somewhere with the mystery behind it.
“And once the police run all the necessary checks, hopefully, I’ll have more answers,” you announced, groaning when you had realised you spoke out loud again. “Oh, whatever! I don’t have to keep my thoughts locked up inside my head or spoken through my fingertips into a word document either! My house, my life!”
And with that, you got up and went back to your desk where you tried to seek out some normalcy for the rest of your day.
You checked emails before conversing with Lily who was animatedly retelling you of her reactions to the final part of the manuscript you sent her. You mentioned to her about what happened too. Lily, however, seemed to be more concerned about something you had written, after exclaiming over your safety. You watched the video screen where your editor, and probably the person who knew you the most aside from your mother, struggled with something.
You frowned. “What is it?”
“You didn’t put your usual The End at the final part for me.”
“Yes I did,” you corrected, leaning back in your chair. “You know me. I always put it at the end of every manuscript so you can’t nag me for more words. The End means I’m not adding to this story anymore!”
“You didn’t put it, Y/N,” she repeated, glancing up at you curiously through her laptop’s camera. “You put something else.”
“Look, I’ll prove it to you,” you announced with pure conviction, clicking on the word document icon on the taskbar and then stopped momentarily when you finally noticed that the story was still open. “That’s strange. I know I closed out of it last night.”
“Out of what?” she asked as you clicked on the tab and watched the document appear on the screen.
You immediately gasped. There, after the final scene of Charli and Brian, was no longer The End as Lily had announced. Instead, the words, To Be Continued had been placed there.
“I didn’t put that there,” you whispered and Lily laughed, unconvinced.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Y/N! Who else would have?”
“I sent it to you right after I finished and I swear I had The End written there.”
“Maybe your writing muse changed it on you,” she teased but you didn’t join her in the amusement. She sensed your shock and blinked a couple of times before focusing back on you. “You really didn’t do it?”
“What if they changed the whole story?!” you shrieked as you jumped to the worst conclusion, scrolling up until you found the line that Brian had spoken to Charli about waiting for an eternity for her. You relaxed a little when everything appeared to be in order. “Maybe I’ll name the third book in this series, Eternity.”
“Wow, just like that, you calmed down,” Lily observed and then nodded. “I like that.”
“I don’t know. I’m just a little sensitive.”
“You were taking medicine last night for the cold, right?” You nodded at Lily’s question and the woman smiled knowingly. “Maybe you took too much at once and hallucinated a little. Or blacked out and can’t remember much.”
“I’m changing it back to The End,” you told her, typing it as you did so. Closing the document, you smiled brightly at the video call. “I’m not adding any further words to Captivated, you hear me? You work your editing magic and I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Yes, Boss!” she cheered, waving to end the call and you powered off your laptop then, making sure to shut the lid down as well.
After finding Binks, you scooped him up in your arms, checked all the doors a final time before heading off to bed for much-needed rest.
You were still a little sick, after all.
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You awoke to the sound of your phone ringing the following morning and blearily reached out to silence it. “Hello?”
“Miss L/N?” a deep voice asked and you sat up a little, blinking away your sleep. “This is Constable Park. We met yesterday regarding your intrusion issue?”
“Sungjin,” you immediately said and then gripped at your blankets at your first name slip-up. Clearly, you were still grappling with becoming alert enough for proper etiquette.
He chuckled lightly. “Yes, shall I call you Y/N?”
“If it makes the situation still work well, be my guest.”
“Well, I’m not sure how happy you’ll be to have me calling you by your name, Y/N, in a moment.”
“No?”
“The results are in and there’s no fingerprint matching that in our database. Whilst that’s bad news for us to immediately act upon it, it doesn’t diminish the fact that someone had been there either.”
Despite being under your blankets, you ran cold, wrapping your spare arm around you to try and warm yourself back up. “I see. Does this mean you can’t do anything?”
“I’m afraid so. If you find anyone suspicious in your house or lurking around the outside, don’t hesitate to call me, okay?”
“Of course, thank you, Sungjin.”
“You’re the first person I’ve been called out to that’s called me by my first name, you know.”
“Do you find me rude for doing so?”
“It’s refreshing,” he admitted and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of being something different for the man. You then bit at your lip, realising you were overreacting all because a man in uniform had stepped into your home.
Okay, so Sungjin was really handsome. And you were deprived of seeing such handsome outside of your stories. Whilst he was no Brian Kang, he would definitely make for a great love story counterpart in a new world. Perhaps he helped the main protagonist and became her protector. Or maybe –
“Y/N?” Sungjin said and you blinked rapidly out of your racing thoughts, coughing a little to cover your embarrassment. “You okay?”
“Sorry, I’m still recovering from this fever,” you admitted, fanning at your face for effect. “Did you say anything else?”
“Yeah, I just told you to keep safe, okay? I don’t need to be worrying about you needlessly, right?”
Oh, you were so going to get up right after this phone call and start typing out these ideas flashing through your mind. However, you gave a moment more to the police officer and confirmed you would call him at the first sign of trouble before ending the call.
Springing up from your bedding, you dashed into your office and perched on the edge of your chair as you opened your laptop and turned it on. You were relieved to find everything in your office in the right place as you opened a new word document and tapped furiously on your keyboard to get down all your ideas for your new police officer au story.
And when you were finally done, you leaned back in your chair and giggled. You weren’t always inspired by people who stepped into your world, but this was solid content you couldn’t ignore.
“Perhaps it’ll help me live out my Sungjin desires too,” you admitted sheepishly before glancing at your pen stand. You remembered about the missing pen and searched on top of your desk and then scooted your chair back to look on the floor. “Where did you go, favourite pen?”
Not finding it anywhere, you pouted right as your stomach grumbled. “Ah,” you said weakly, clutching your stomach in your hand. “I best feed myself and Binks. Hopefully, that pen will turn back up.”
Once you had eaten and quietened Binks’ demands for his morning affection, you got dressed and readied yourself for a trip out to the grocery store. Next, you had to write out a list of what you needed and went back into your office, sitting down at your desk and reaching for some paper.
Your attention turned to your laptop, where you found your favourite pen sitting upon it. “What the…”
And looking up at the screen, another message awaited you.
 Sorry, I didn’t realise I had taken it with me after writing you the notes.
 Glancing around yourself, you froze with the fear that rose within. You hadn’t heard anyone inside the house during this time. Yet, there was proof someone had come in again. You looked to the window, it was firmly shut. There was no way anyone could have gotten inside the house without walking passed you first.
You then started to shake.
Had they been in here all night long again?
Just as you went to get up and fetch your phone to ring Sungjin back, you noticed a second tab open on the document screen.
It was Captivated. And once again, the last words read, To Be Continued.
_________________
Part 3
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dragon-of-dreams · 4 years
Text
Cracking a code
word count: 937
part 2, part 3
dark!steve rogers drabble
Summary: Steve visits your office and you find yourself terrifed of America’s golden boy.
Warnings: noncon touching, stalking, threats, general creepyness no editing, hmu if I missed sth
You had been working at Avengers tower for almost two years now. It was the best work atmosphere you had ever experienced, you got to work with some of the smartest people of your generation and there never was a dull moment. As a linguist you pitched in on too many projects to keep tabs on them all, wether it was working on Jarvis’ voice recognition with Tony himself, decoding enemy chatter or sitting in on court hearings and trials as an expert on reliable witnesses or to uncover faked testimonies or documents arguing against the Avengers. Whom, except for Tony, you had never met until one fateful day.
You had run late, and when you finally made it to your office the last thing you expected to be there was Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. What you had expected even less was that his presence made your skin tingle, but not in the good, he’s sexiest guy on earth way. More in the he will murder lambs in the middle of the night for fun kind of way. You had seen the way he looked at you one to many times. This was a predator’s gaze. You wanted to shrink back, but that hadn’t gotten you to where you were today, so you soldiered on. ‘Terrible choice of words Y/n, terrible choice of words.’ You thought to yourself. “Captain, to what do I owe the pleasure?” you greeted and gave him your most charming smile. Your words startled him. The intensity in his eyes softened into his good, old-school charm and the darkness in his eyes was a mere flicker, only there if you knew what to look for. And that you did. You had always had a radar for bad men, being able to tell your friends if their boyfriends would be assholes after meeting them for 10 minutes.
“Ms. Y/L/N, I am so sorry to disturb you, but we have an issue with a code of what we believe is a Hydra sub-branch. Jarvis has had no luck cracking it and since it is rather urgent, I figured the fastest way to get it safely to you was to bring it myself.” He threw you a smile that almost made you forget to fear his huge frame, now blocking your door, drowning out the outside world.
“Well, let’s see then,” you grinned, showing teeth. You were adamant about showing him nothing but strength as you settled behind your desk. Steve crossed your office so fast it took your breath away, making it quite clear that there would be no getting away from him, if he didn’t want you to. He rounded your desk, settling disturbingly close behind you, just in your peripheral. You could feel the heat his body gave off and had to violently suppress a shudder. When he placed the file in front of you his hand brushed both your stomach and you left hand, then as he withdrew it from you table it settled on your shoulder. You couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t stand people touching your back. You flinched, hard. “I am sorry, Ms. Y/L/N, I didn’t mean to startle you.” You turned to look at him to dismiss his apology when you looked into his eyes and saw the darkness there. He knew he made you uncomfortable and he relished in it. Your reply died on your lips and you returned to the file. “It is absolutely confidential” Steve added, “I will have to stay here until you finish.” With these words he seemed to settle behind you in a resting soldier’s stance. Fear creeped up you back and gripped you tight. You felt like a child in school, taking a test with a teacher leering over your shoulder. “Please” you pressed out, turning to him “why don’t you take a seat?” and pointed to one of the couches. Steve smirked at you, leaned down, very consciously and firmly placed a hand at the small of your back and whispered: “you are pretty when you beg”. He then straightened and moved away to settle down. All of that had taken him less then ten seconds but it shook you to your core.
It had taken you forever to decode the couple of lines they had intercepted, with Steve intently staring at you. When you would look up at him, he’d glance at his watch and sight quietly or let his tongue run along his lips languidly. By the time you were finally done your nerves were lying blank. You handed him the transcript and the file, walking him to the door, as he thanked you, once more the upstanding citizen everyone knew. He was already halfway through your door when he turned around, leaned in once more and said “I’ll be back with a reward for your quick work once we got this taken care of” He waved the file about with his left hand as his right grabbed your hand and pressed it to his crotch. He was hard. “and maybe you can help me out with a personal problem?” Before you could respond he was gone. You hurriedly closed your office door and then crumbled against it. Of all the things you heard about Steve you knew one thing for certain. He was a man of his word. As you got back to work (an entirely boring court transcript) the rational part of your brain forced to make you believe that you had misheard. Your heart finally understood why your friends had stayed with their asshole-boyfriends. You couldn’t believe that Americas golden boy was just that rotten.
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rightintheguts · 3 years
Text
The Witch of Birmingham
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Decided to re-post this, so here's the summary: Her family wasn’t the same after the War. Her father lost a leg; her brother an eye; her sister a husband. And for Bianca? She lost her family in the aftermath.
Though, she’d be damned if she let the tragedy of that war consume her, as it had her family.
With a split decision, Bianca leaves her family, transitioning from the scenic sight of Galway, to the industrial streets of Birmingham, hoping for a fresh start away from the memory of her broken family.
She gains employment at a local business, and she falls into a steady routine. A routine that soon takes a turn, when on one afternoon, a group of Blinders comes looking for her boss for due money. Wonderful.
The chapter begins under the line.
Chapter One:
Birmingham was vastly different from Galway. With that singular thought, Bianca made her way off the over-packed train, and onto the equally crowded platform, using some effort to stay afloat with the mass of strangers that she was crammed in between. She hissed out a curse when she almost tripped over the heeled shoes of a blond woman. Shooting out a hurried apology to the Miss in question, Bianca was once again sucked into the departing crowd. Soon enough the crowd thinned, and she was able to separate herself from the lot of them; she took a moment to gather herself, not used to being in such overly large crowds.
Once she took stock of both herself, and her belongings she looked around the platform, watching as others boarded the train; some hurrying off to wherever they’re meant to be.
Her gloved hands twisted over her suitcase, chest twinging at the sight of families reuniting, or bidding farewell. Her mind conjuring up the image of her own family, before she willed it away: there was no time thinking of that. No, instead she should focus on finding her way to her newly purchased flat, a thought that felt odd to her--of having her own space, but she welcomed the feeling, even though it frightened her. Be brave, Bianca.
Taking a deep breath, she held it and closed her eyes. No more ‘Theo’. once I open my eyes, I’ll only be ‘Bianca’. Exhaling, a smile bloomed across her face, and her eyes snapped opened a second later. With her head held high, Bianca briskly strut through the doors of the train station, and out into cobbled streets of Birmingham.
_____________
(A Month Later)
The moment her neighbors started screaming at each other, was a clear indication that she needed to get ready, and start the day. Bianca groaned into her scrunched-up pillow, rolling onto her side and sitting up, haphazardly tossing her quilted covers to the side, as her bare feet touched the worn hardwood floor. Who needs an alarm clock, when you have the Hughes?
Lord, bless them! Sighing in resignation, Bianca sluggishly rose from her creaky mattress, and began her morning routine. She was never a morning person, and moving to Birmingham sure as hell didn’t change that.
Setting her copper kettle to boil, she finished pinning up her blonde hair, all-the-while glaring heatedly at the wall across from her. Throughout the month she’s been here, the couple have made it a habit to argue from the early hours of the morning, to the very moment Mr. Hughes arrives home from either work, or the local pub. The only time she gets a hint of peace, is when she is out of her bloody flat, and those few precious hours before Mr. Hughes gets home.
Thankfully, Bianca had managed to concoct something during her second week here, that could instantly knock her out when she needed to rest.
Though, perhaps I won’t need that now? Bianca had made it her personal mission to either befriend, or get to know her neighbors to some extent. What she had learned during her first week, was that Mr. Baker hated visitors, but he had liked the apple crumble she had brought him; the Millers, were an elderly couple who were very fond of her pies.
Finally, there were the Hughes: Mr. Hughes was a short, and stocky man with a ruddy face, and even ruddier hair. Mrs. Hughes on the other hand, was a thin, bird-like woman with short brown hair, and a tired face. They had been pleasant, completely different from the screaming entities she had conjured within her mind in those first few days.
She eventually found out that the Hughes were having trouble in the marriage bed--or rather, Mr. Hughes was, ahem, having trouble downstairs, to the increasing frustration of Mrs. Hughes. So, naturally the couple began taking their frustration out on each other--thankfully, their fights never escalated to anything physical.
With that train of thought, Bianca made her way to her small pantry and briskly opened it. Finding what she was looking for, she snatched it up, and closed the pantry door with her hip. The kettle let out a startling hiss, almost causing her to drop the small vial, but she quickly righted herself and stuffed the glass solution into her bra.
After finishing her morning tea and toast, Bianca slid into her coat and donned its matching hat. Mr. Hughes had left just as she had finished fixing her tea, so she was secure in knowing that she wouldn’t be spotted by him. Gathering the rest of her things, she exited her flat and locked the door, before she ambled to her neighbor’s door.
Rapping thrice upon the scuffed wood, she waited until a haggard looking Abigail Hughes opened the door. Her friendly grin was met with confused eyes, before they turned sheepish.
“I, I’m sorry Bianca, were we too--?” The woman’s apology was cut short when Bianca reached into her blouse, and plucked the safe-kept vial from the insides of her bra. Holding it out for the woman, who took it after a few short beats, Bianca instructed her to place a drop of the liquid into either her husbands food, or drink.
“W-what--” Once again, the woman was cut off.
“No more than a drop, eh? And first time’s free charge--the next will be three pounds 50.” With that, she turned on her heel and strode out her apartment building.
________
Her earlier cheeriness lasted up until she stepped through the door of her workplace, and punched in her time card, where she happened to catch sight of her desk: riddled with piles of meeting notes--notes that she would have to spend all day typing up, and filing away. Shoulders slumping, she withheld a sigh and replaced her card in it’s designated slot, then Bianca made the short trek to her, now, cluttered desk. She had just placed her purse down, when her boss suddenly opened his office door with a loud bang, startling her before abruptly barking her name.
“Ms. Kovac!” upon not immediately seeing her, the man called for her again, before said woman pushed the door back a smidge more, revealing herself. Mr. Thompson jumped, though was quick to try and play it off as a mere shuffling of his feet.
“Yes, Mr. Thompson?” she asked, forced smile stretching across her face. She could already feel a headache coming on, and it was barely the start of her work day. The man produced an even larger pile of documents for her, carelessly thrusting them into her limp arms, causing her to scramble in order to not drop them--which was possibly his intent, if the unsatisfied frown was any indication.
After briskly informing her that these documents, along with the ones on her desk, will need to be finished today, he closed his office door and then headed for the entrance of the small office building.
“Oh, and keep tabs on my messages, yeah?” with that, he exited the building, leaving her slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
Oh, damn that man! Snapping her mouth shut, she huffily slammed the papers on her desk, before closing her eyes and took in a lungful of air. Counting to ten, Bianca told herself to calm down--she needed this job, that she should bare a stiff-upper-lip and march through the day. It was only six hours.
Reaching ten she exhaled, and opened her eyes. Sitting down at her desk, she lugged the documents onto her piled desk, and readied her type-writer, officially beginning her day.
_____________________
Around lunch-time, the office door opened and closed, followed by long, sure steps that languidly made their way towards Bianca, though she was far too focused on her work to notice this. She had made a surprising amount of progress with the mountain of documents, and with her decision to work through lunch she was confident that she wouldn’t be forced to work over-time.
The only sound after that, was the fast rhythmic tap, tap, tap of her type-writer, fingers flying over the keys; eyes solely focused on her task, and mouth absent-mindedly chewing half of her sandwich, the other half hanging from her sealed lips, waiting it’s turn to be consumed.
A throat clearing broke her out of her trance, she idly glanced up, and nearly had a stroke right then and there when she registered exactly who stood in front of her desk; along with the sudden influx of mortification at the picture she no doubt made.
Thomas Fucking Shelby!
She may not have been in Birmingham long, but she sure as fuck knew who the Shelbys were--especially the one who happened to be looming over her desk currently. Face burning, she reached for her sandwich and bit through it, setting the rest down on the napkin she had wrapped it in, and desperately sought to reclaim some-sort of dignity. Swallowing, she tried mustering a smile, though it fell short and morphed into a grimace.
“How can I help you, Mr. Shelby?” She’s heard quite a bit about the Shelbys--especially about Thomas Shelby in particular. She had once heard that his icy stare alone, could melt a man’s face off--though the man who said as much was quite drunk at the time, so she didn't have much faith in his word. In fact, he didn’t appear that frightening, if anything he appeared amused--most likely due to having caught her off guard. He gestured a bit to his mouth, glancing to her own before she caught on and hastily wiped the mustard away with a quick swipe of her tongue, face once again heating in embarrassment.
Dear Lord, please strike me down.
“Is Jimmy ‘round?” At the mention of her boss, the frustration from this morning reared its ugly head, but she was quick to stamp it out--she didn’t want to come across as defensive or hostile towards Mr. Shelby, especially when she realized he wasn’t really alone--two Blinders were standing guard outside the door. Shaking her head, she informed him that he had left in the early morning, and that no, he hadn’t told her where he had gone, nor when he would be back.
Seeing Mr. Shelby subtle frustration at her employer’s absence, along with the news that she had no idea where he was, Bianca was anxious to placate the man.
“Was there anything you were expecting, or wanting to discuss with Mr. Thompson?” she asked pleasantly, a sudden thrill racing down her spine when he looked at her, a dark brow raising at her inquiry.
“I was expecting a payment two days ago, and ‘ave yet to receive it.” He reached into his pocket, and slid a cigarette from it’s cartridge before lighting it. Bianca froze in place, her mind began rapidly turning in thought; and dread practically twisting her intestines into intricate knots.
“I’d graciously given him an extra day to get the money, and still I haven’t received the three-hundred quid he owes.” a pause, accompanied by a ghost of a smirk. “Now with interest, of course.”
Bianca cursed, verbally. She couldn’t help it, finally realizing what this was, and why her boss had made sure she would be present during this time--no doubt having quickly learned, that she would rather work through lunch than work a second of over-time--and why he wasn’t.
That kreten! (1)
“Now, I know--” Mr. Shelby had started, seeing as she was growing emotional, but Bianca cut him off by standing abruptly, the two Blinders jerked to attention, but she paid them no mind. Oh, she was furious with her boss--why, if he was here this very moment, she’d strangle that little kozí kurva (2); God forgive her, but she would!
Making the short trek to her employer’s office, a litany of Slovak curses following her wake, she began to fumble with one of her hair pins. She jerked the door open with a bang--the bastard didn’t even lock it--and marched towards his desk, her heels furiously clicking against the hardwood floor.
Reaching for the tasteless painting that hung behind his office chair, she yanked it from the wall and carelessly tossed it aside--if the kretén had any problems with her treatment of his things, she’d tell him to shove ‘em up his arse. Bianca released an inelegant snort at the man’s predictable mind set. He’d had thought himself so clever; thinking that he was the only one in the world with a safe hidden behind a painting, that they’d neither find him, nor his money: forcing her to deal with the gangsters, the complete ass.
Well, he won’t be laughing for long when he finds his cash gone!
Analyzing the safe, she ended up letting out another haughty snort; he hadn’t even bothered to purchase a decent one, she’d have no problem cracking this one--hell, a babe could crack this pathetic excuse of a safe.
“What’re you doin’?” Glancing over her shoulder, she found Mr. Shelby standing in the doorway, smoking all care-free like, and watching her with a sort of detached amusement. She finally managed to pluck a pin from her hair, then gave the man a one-armed shrug.
“Quitting.” she said simply. She heard something suspiciously like a laugh, but when she happened to glance back at him, he was as grim as the Reaper. Crossing herself at both the thought, and for what she’s about to do, Bianca set to work.
She was severely disappointed, with barely any thought, she heard the tell-tale click and voila: the safe was opened and the money inside was ripe for the taking.
“Three-hundred quid, you said?” she asked absentmindedly, already counting out the notes.
“Plus interest.”
“Ah, right.” having counted out the correct amount, including the required interest, she placed the stack of pounds on the desk so he could do so himself. While he began his own counting, she turned back towards the safe and took the rest. Grasping the leftover pounds, she turned and began walking back towards her own desk, all-the-while stuffing half the notes down her bra, and folding the rest with her purse being their future home.
Feeling eyes one her, she found Mr. Shelby once again watching her. Giving him her best smile, she began gathering her things and idly asked him, “You won’t mind too much, if such an outcome happens, that I tell the authorities that the Blinders took all the money?”
“I doubt you’d have to talk to any copper.” he informed her, and after a second of contemplation, she nodded in acquiescence, tossing her forgotten lunch away. Her employer--ah, former employer--would be too much of a coward to confront the Blinders, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to contact any officers.
“Well, then I bid you a pleasant day, Mr. Shelby.” She went to gather her coat and hat, and punched out her time card, before tossing it in the bin near-by.
“You as well, Ms…?” She twisted to face him, and smiled once again.
“Kovac. Bianca Kovac.” He tilted his head in acknowledgement, and she took that as her que to leave. She nodded farewell towards the two Blinders stationed outside, before reaching for her compact and lipstick from the recesses of her questionably large purse. After re-applying the bold red to her lips, she smiled and winked at herself before snapping the compact closed.
Well, time to find a new job.
______________
Translations:
1.) Asshole
2.) Goat fucker
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dis--parity · 3 years
Text
Correspondence #4
Directory: PC-2742/External device (D:)/Audio/Reminder-1.mp3 Date of Recording: ████ of █████, 20██ Title: Secret Recording between Dr. Kerata Paterson & Capt. Liam Raynes
“Doc. I’ve made up my mind. It’s gotta be him, and it’s gotta be soon.” “... well then. You definitely didn’t take long coming to terms with that, did you?”
[ Liam pulls up a chair, allowing it to gracelessly scrape across the hardwood floor as he takes a seat. Kerata is quick to follow suit, sat in the plush amaranth silk of her own chair. ]
“Might I ask what spurred this on? You seemed rather hesitant, especially after that deal the major offered you as an out. You don’t have to–”
“The fuckin’ prick- if you saw the way he spoke about- no, treated Garis in and out of the interrogation room, you’d agree. This shit’s all business as usual to him. His method of questioning is not only ineffective, it’s just giving him an excuse to be an asshole.”
“You sound... vindictive, Liam. Don’t tell me this is just down to a personal vendetta. You’ve thought this out, haven’t you?”
[ Liam pauses - the chair still creaking as he adjusts his position, shifting simply from his weight alone. Someone needs to work on his posture - but why do that, he thinks, when it would sacrifice so much of his presence? ]
“Listen. He’s the one who started the Malmo bust in the first place. He’s the one who’s been writing half the files since we’ve been recovering documents from the compound, and the others in New York. MI5 sent over what they found in the Southampton site, and he’s managed all of it. If it gets out, if there’s a leak... all the eyes will be on him.”
“Are you certain? You’re walking out, and leaving a national security panic in your wake, and you’re certain that everybody is just going to turn a blind eye?”
“The families that the Kimuras are good with have got me there. Steve’s got my admission of confidentiality when I leave, and that’s good enough for him. He knows I’m an honest man - and the yakuza will tie up any loose ends, burn any paper trails that might lead back to me. All eyes on Brewer.”
[ Kerata shifts in her seat - a heavy sigh breezes through, the very exasperation in the breath picked up with perfect clarity by the recorder. ]
“Don’t gimme that, doc. You’ve got a hand in this too, remember? I’m sending that message you want me to. Brewer’s gonna chide me for getting too ‘personal’ during an interrogation, I can tell you that much already - but I’ll make it happen. But, again... no guarantees your boy will hear it, or do anything with it. I don’t really see the point, but... fuck, I’m doing this anyway, and I owe you a favour. I’ll give you that lead. Keep tabs on it.”
“And what about Garis? What about... after you’re done with the interrogations? They’re coming back with you, I know, but... it won’t be them, will it? That’s... that’s what worries me. Whoever they were, whoever they’ll become, they might not understand what they’re going through, what your CIA is putting them through.”
“Who said anything about the CIA? It’s not like there’s only one hypnotherapist in the whole world, Kerata.“
“Yakuza again?”
“Bingo. They’ll be safe - and the late Kimura-san’s debt to me will be repaid. Then... we start anew. This... Yeong-Hui Han. Who they were before. As for Garis... who knows what’ll happen to them? Could be erased completely. Could be a well-remembered chapter in the new person’s life, could be forgotten. We’ll just have to see.”
“Liam...”
“Doc.” [ Liam reaches over, and shakes the good doctor gently by the shoulder. ] “They’re safe with me. They will be for as long as they need to be, and I’ll let them know that. As for you... I suggest you give your search a little wait, too. At the very least until the heat dies down, or ‘til this ‘A’ of yours is a little more well-adjusted in life. Who knows what your little puppet show of their lives might do to ‘em?”
“... one more interrogation. Then, all of that. Everything falls into place... and perhaps I can sleep fine at night once again. You can promise me that... captain?”
“... I’m your guy, doctor. You’ll rest easy when you see the news a week from now.
Promise.”
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jackjots · 3 years
Text
#3 Suspicions
Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt
(This takes place around the second half of Episode 3)
Day #3 @30daysofwayward
CW: Mention of blood, alcohol mentions.
(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)
Reading about silver mining while laying in bed eventually got me tired enough that I fell asleep with the book in my hands. When I woke up, the book was face down on the floor. I picked it up and found it was open where pages had been ripped out. I frowned and looked up what chapter was missing: “The Werewolves of Connor Creek”.  I thought that was odd, and I wondered if the library knew their book had been torn, or if they’d blame me. I sighed and put the book on my bedside table as I got ready for the day. A day of catching up on my work, and then I could learn more about the town, I decided. With a fresh mind, it was easier to sort my priorities and shove that weird guilt I’d been feeling away from my mind.
I drank some tea I’d found in the back of a drawer, noting to myself to go get coffee from the market later, and got some writing done. I got stuck on another small detail about Norse life that would be such an easy Google search normally. As I waited for the page to load, I looked over at my notebook, flipping back to my notes about Connor Creek. I’d gotten a good chunk of writing done, the internet was being even slower than usual, and I started thinking about the book again, so I went back to the document containing my novel and typed a quick note to myself to look that up later, and closed out of everything. I brought the book to the couch and started to read again. My eyes dragged over words about the sustainability of silver mining next to gold mining, and suggested that the mysticism surrounding silver could account for the many bizarre tales that came from similar towns across the country. I thought of the chapter on werewolves, and looked through the index for any other such tales. Most of them were tales about the MacMahons greed, probably written by Connor descendants, and tales about the Connor’s inability to welcome change, probably written by MacMahons descendants. There were impartial footnotes at the bottom that suggested whoever compiled this wasn’t sure which side to believe. 
My stomach growled, and I felt like I was going nowhere with this book, so I decided to go into town. Get some coffee from the market, get some lunch from the Dead Canary, and maybe, just maybe, ask questions about the current political situation in the town, now that I was getting an idea that the town was founded on a quarrel about a quarry, I was even more curious about the current quarry quandary. The possibility that I was creating something where nothing existed was still there in my mind, but was that so bad? 
I brought the book with me, since I could read while I ate. I drove into town, and the ease in which I found a spot still made me happy. I knew eventually I would take free parking for granted, and I’d gotten a few tickets the first week before I knew exactly where to park, but for now I was pleased. 
I noticed Ryan Reynolds' face plastered all over the outside of the Dead Canary. I knew it would be cold to take them down so soon, but it was hard to look at him smiling thirty smiles at me. I gripped the book in my hand and entered the bar that seemed to hold its gloom even in the middle of the day. 
Quinn, the chef, took my order begrudgingly. I just wanted grilled cheese, but he insisted on making it bleu cheese with strawberries and balsamic for dipping. I shrugged and asked Desmond for an iced tea. 
“How’s that book goin’?” He asked as he slid me the glass.
“Trying to read it quickly, since I have to return it to the library soon.”
“A library book?” 
I showed him the stamp from the library. “Yep. It’s old school, but I kind of like that. Shame it’s a bit ripped up though.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah, someone tore it up. That’s why we can’t have nice things.”
He wiped a glass and shrugged. “Not sure I’ve had many nice things.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. It’s all a matter of opinion.”
“Wise words Shelby. We’ll get your food right out to you.”
I remembered the bleu cheese and grimaced. “Can’t wait.” I paused before I went back to my booth. “Desmond?”
“Yes?”
“What’s your take on the podcasters?”
“Podcasters?” He said the word like he didn’t know how to fit it in his mouth so it came out sideways. “You mean the nosey ones, Artie and Paul?” I nodded. “They’re alright. Nosey.”
“Yeah, you said that. What exactly are they investigating? The race? The murder?”
“I don’t exactly know. All of it, from the sounds of it.”
“That makes sense. But why did they even come here in the first place?”
“Why don’t you ask them yourself?” He gestured outside. “Word is they’re out there at Miner Mole right now.” 
I shook my head. “I think I’ll stick around here for a while.”
“Good idea. Here’s your lunch.”
After a surprisingly delicious meal, which Quinn nodded approvingly from the bar at me while I did so, I washed it down with the iced tea and read a bit more. The closer I got to the chapter that was missing, the more the pages alluded to the chapter. I realized it would’ve been a nice chapter to have. Despite the silliness of the topic, I knew there would be information in there, even if it was open to interpretation. I decided I could try to find the book online and order it, from the library computer so I could simultaneously return the book. 
I went up to settle my tab. “Where you off to now?” Desmond asked as I had my keys in my hand.
“Gotta get some coffee from the market, and then I think I might just head over to the library today.”
“Done with your book already?” He handed me my change.
“Actually, I think the chapters that were missing might be more important than I thought. I think I might go see if I can buy a copy myself.”
“Why is this so important to you?” 
I tilted my head. “I’m not sure, but I’m just kind of going with it.”
“Good for you.” He patted the bar. “Have a safe drive. Those turns can get hairy.”
I decided to get coffee at the market, since it was cheaper and I’d probably forget by the time I got to the library. Besides, I liked supporting the town I lived in. The mailman, Odie Doty, stopped in and got excited when he saw me. “There’s a letter waitin’ for you, it’s from your editor. They’ve liked what you’ve sent them so far, but they want more violence. Not sure why, what you sent them was mighty violent already. At least the parts I read.” 
I blinked a bit. I was still not used to the intrusiveness of the local postal service. But in some ways, it took the anxiety out of getting my mail. “Thanks Odie. Look forward to reading it.”
“You coming to the town council meeting tomorrow?”
“Maybe.” I said, which was the honest truth. My curiosity about the town was piqued, but it probably stopped at gathering with the locals. The introvert's dilemma. 
“The mayor will be there.” He said in a sing-songy voice as he left.
I hadn’t met the mayor yet. All I’d heard of her, was that she was quite a dog. Just kidding, I knew she was actually a dog, but wouldn’t that be funny? That would’ve been funny. “See you later Odie.” I called to him as I headed to my Volvo. 
“Is that your car?” His voice boomed from remarkably far down the street since he’d just been right next to me.
I pointed at the Volvo. “Yes?”
“Looks like you’ve got a flat!” 
My face fell. “Thanks.” I looked. I had four flats. My tires were slashed. I looked around, but no witnesses were to be found. Grumbling, I threw the coffee beans in the backseat and went back to the Dead Canary. “Can you call the shop? My tires are...well slashed.”
“Are they now? ‘Fraid I can’t do that, they’re closed Thursdays.” 
“Are they now?” I echoed Desmond. He just raised his eyebrows at me and I waved it away. “Fine, I’ll just walk home.” 
“Want a beer before you go? You’re walkin’ anyway.”
I chewed on my cheek for a moment and then shrugged. “Fine. I can read around the chapters that are missing, right?”
“Couldn’t of been that good if they’re gone.”
“Or they were too good.” It was one of those moments where I didn’t realize what I was saying until I heard it myself. A memory resurfaced and highlighted itself in my mind. “Desmond, did you see anyone sneaking around this book last time I was here?”
“Not sure why anyone would.”
“Me either. Except I’m fairly certain it went missing long enough for that chapter to get ripped out.”
“Can’t imagine why.”
“Yeah, why would anyone steal a chapter about werewolves?”
“Can’t imagine.” He repeated, as he pointedly handed me a beer. 
“What’s with all of this imagining Desmond? That’s not like you.” The curved shape of a human at the end of the bar slurred. I’d let my eyes slip over him enough times that I jumped when he spoke. 
“Okay Henry, let's get you something to eat.” 
I mouthed a thank you and went back to my spot. 
Much to my chagrin, the book drifted farther from the town as the chapters went on. I didn’t care how the silver affected the coast of California. I didn’t care about when the first bank was established. I didn’t care about the guessing game the rest of the family feud story had devolved into. I shoved the book aside and found a new beer replacing my empty cup. 
“You look like you needed it.” Desmond said and turned around.
Did I? I looked at the glass. Fine. I drank a big gulp. I saw a few patrons slip in and looked at the clock. I’d killed a lot of time with one beer and a few boring chapters I realized. I might as well stay for dinner. 
By the time dinner was in my belly (something something caprese something something), I’d also consumed another two beers. I was usually good at pacing myself, but for some reason, with my tires and the book, I was just ready to be drunk. I didn’t see Desmond, so I put the exact change out under my plate with a note ripped from my notebook. I went to my car and pulled out my coffee beans. I was going to have coffee, that was for damn sure. 
As I made my way down the street, I ran into someone lurking in the shadows; a solid form that was wearing a big fur coat. I said sorry as I blundered forward past them and passed the neon signs of Prism’s shop. I turned a corner and thought I heard something. I leaned my head back and with bleary eyes saw a shape running away. I walked back, cautiously, and looked into Prism’s shop where the door was ajar. The red stuck out to me as not red enough. It occurred to me this was my first time seeing blood, in large amounts, on a real live - a real dead person. Prism was dead. And there was someone else face down next to her. I tore back to the Dead Cannery and found Desmond cleaning a glass - how the hell does he have glasses to clean when no one was there was what my brain was saying before my voice started working. “There’s bodies, there’s bodies over at Prisms’. And I’m not sure I can handle it.” His face set grimly and he told me to sit down while he made calls and asked me where exactly. 
I wasn’t questioned so much as told what I saw. The Sheriff gave me a ride home. Trying to keep my mind from seeing the not-red-enough-red, I babbled about my slashed tires, and when she asked me why I hadn’t gotten them fixed at the shop, I told her what Desmond had told me. And she gave me a look that told me I had probably misheard him. But I hadn’t. Even in my slippery thought state, where every thought I had felt like a wriggling fish I tried to hold onto, I knew I hadn’t.
I fell into bed wearing the same shirt I’d worn all day; the drunkenness already melting into a spiky headache. As sleep started to lurk in the corners of my eyes, I thought about Desmond. The book at the bar, the slashed tires, the fact that he was gone when I’d left the bar and conveniently back after I’d found Prism...something was wrong with all of these things, and though when I pinned them on Desmond I had trouble sticking them there, they still fit too well for comfort.
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wintersoldierland · 5 years
Text
the moment we're waiting for
It's only because of the Soldier's quick thinking he gets out of there unnoticed.
The mating howl is hardly subtle, but the Soldier is quick and soundless afterwards, so it's easy to get out of the house before anyone really notices what's happening.
What the Soldier didn't expect, is how hard it is to leave his Fated Omega alone, knowing it may be years before they meet again. It's hard, but the Soldier is efficient and the last thing he wants is his Omega in danger.
That's why he vanishes from sight. The first thing he does afterwards is get on a direct plane to Argentina, where he rips out the tracker and shocker from his arm. Then, the Soldier thinks.
His inner Alpha is trashing inside, eager to get to his Omega but the Soldier has self-control. He will not endanger his Omega, just because he's horny. Besides, his Omega looked underage and that's a line the Soldier will not cross, no matter what.
Now is the time to plan his next move and get free.
It's hard to keep an Alpha compliant, but with enough brainwashing, it can be done. However, keeping compliant an Alpha that just found its True Mate is impossible. The chemicals and hormones win against anything else, and the Soldier uses that moment to escape.
He knows he has to be careful not to get caught. The trigger words are still there and he's vulnerable to them. The Soldier refuses to be used to cause his Omega any pain.
That's why he lays low and plans. Cuts ties with anyone Hydra removes all trackers, keeps the codes and passwords. After finding an internet café it's not hard to clean bank accounts. Not all of them, but the Asset heard many talks, many passwords and codes. The Asset knows a lot.
The Soldier now uses that knowledge to weaken the Hydra from his spot. The transfers the money, the data and research, crashes what databases he can. His hacking skills aren't perfect, but Hydra is not expecting an attack from the inside.
That's his advantage.
In less than 2 days the Soldier does more damage than anyone from the outside can hope to cause in years. Research gone, names leaked, money cleaned out. It's not a lot, but it's a start.
He uses the money to get back to the US, before going underground again. The Hydra has no reason to think that the Starks triggered anything, as he was scheduled to go to Argentina later. It looks like something there triggered his memory and the Soldier knows that the tracker is still there. It allows him to be relatively safe in the US.
He plans and gets into the Stark mansion again. His Omega, Tony, is not there, the Soldier can smell that, but he can't help himself and steps into the room for a second. It smells like heat and machines, sweet but tangy and his inner Alpha purrs contently. They both can't wait to be reunited with their Omega.
It's the middle of the night, so Howard's office is empty as the Soldier lays documents on his desk. It's a complete list of all the important names and locations, of traitors and new experiments.
He leaves it all with a small note "Tell Carter. Do some good, asshole. B. Barnes"
It's weird to use that name, but the Soldier feels more and more like that man every day. He remembers Carter, remembers Steve, remembers the war. Remembers Hydra.
In the mess of his mind, one thing is clear - the sight and smell of his Omega, spread on the bed, moaning and begging for him.
The Soldier, Bucky, has something to come back to.
But first, he has to be worth it, worth his amazing, brilliant Omega. His True Mate.
He keeps close tabs on Tony Stark, follows his career, his brilliant inventions, his bright mind. It's amazing to witness and Bucky really really wants to be there, share that joy with him.
That's why finally, after 6 years, he decides to come back.
He thought about coming back when Tony's parents died, but he didn't want their first meeting to be like that. He didn't want Tony to think it's out of pity.
That's why he waits, and only comes back when it's safe. Tony is brilliant and bright and maybe a bit too wild, too keen on hard parties and drugs, but Bucky understands pain and grief, lack of self-worth. He can help, if Tony lets him.
He's wearing his normal clothes - black pants, black Henley, a few knives hidden in crucial places, his trusty leather jacket and of course his bike.
It's not hard to find the right house. Tony has moved out of the mansion, but his address is easier to find than it should be. Bucky can work on that later.
He takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders, before ringing the door. It opens, and there's a young woman, with bright, sharp eyes. They're suspicious.
"Mr Stark isn't accepting home visits," she says. Her voice is professional, but there's an edge to it. Bucky already likes her.
"I know," he says easily. "My name is James Barnes, and I think Mr Stark is my True Mate."
She stares, shocked but trying to cover it, before nodding. "Of course you are," she mutters and steps back. "I'll call him."
He enters and tries not to inhale too deeply. The house doesn't smell like Tony, but that's not a surprise. The workshop, whatever it is, must be Tony's favourite place.
"Thanks," Bucky says curtly and sits down on the flashy, luxurious sofa. He can wait. He waited so long already.
Yet, when he hears the steps and the smell creeps into the room, he finds it harder than anticipated to keep calm, to not run and find his Omega.
Then, there he is. Older than the last time Bucky saw him, but just as bright and sweet-smelling. More defiant now, more mature, rougher.
Bucky knows he can love him very very much.
"Sergeant Barnes," Tony says, trying very hard to keep his voice flat. His scent can't lie, however, and Bucky bristles when it turns sharp and acidic.
Anxious.
"Please, call me James," he requests softly.
Tony's brown eyes snap to his, and for a second they’re both breathless. The anxious smell in the room turns something sweeter. It’s tentative, uncertain, but undeniably there.
Bucky smiles gently and stays in his place, lets Tony come closer.
The Omega does, trying to appear strong and unphased, buttne truth is, they’re both messes, waiting for so long. They’re a bit lost and neither quite believes what’s happening.
Finally, Tony’s there, just a breath away, so Bucky spreads his arms lightly, making sure not to touch him. His Omega looks up at him with those lost, warm eyes, and then they’re pressed together.
Tony feels perfect in his arms like he was made to fit there. He probably was.
Bucky wraps himself tightly aroud his Omega and buries his face in that messy hair. Tony smells of oil and old sweat and some alcohol, but underneath it is the best smell in the world  - lilies of the valley and ozone. Flowers and power.
Delicate and strong.
“There you are,” Bucky whispers roughly, eyes probably red, his inner Alpha content and happy.
Tony nods against his neck, scent-marking him, and then starts purring. It’s a soft sound, lovely and quiet. 
It’s true.
Omegas can only purr when they’re well and truly happy. Usually with their Alpha close.
“I have so many questions,” Tonty chuckles weakly, and they both pretend he’s not crying.
“I’ll answer every one of them,” the Alpha promises.
For a second though, there’s only them, standing in that big, empty house, the air smelling like them, fresh and sweet but a bit bitter. It fits.
Bucky closes his eyes, a small smile on his face, and listens to his Omega purring, right there in his eyes.
Each second alone lead to this exact moment, and it couldn’t be more perfect.
PART 1
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oldmacnewlife · 3 years
Text
DIY
Create Your Own CD Sleeves Using Microsoft Word 2004
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I've said it before, and I'll keep saying it over and over again: I love old computers. I love tinkering with them. I love seeing what, if any, more or less useful work they can still do in the modern world, years after everyone else has moved onto the Next Shiny Thing.
Since I collect old computers, that means I also collect old software - mainly old drivers to power the old computers. I find them on the internet, download them, then burn them to disk to archive them. To keep these disks safe, I store them in CD jewel cases. I like these to look at least a little bit nice. I make my own CD sleeves for them. 
Dimensions
In order to create your own cd sleeve, you need to know what size to make them. An internet search states that CD sleeves are typically 4.7 inches by 4.7 inches. The internet deals only in truth. Trust the internet.
Word 2004
Word 2004 is an old version of Microsoft’s word processing software for Mac OS X (10.4 “Tiger”, in this case). As a word processing program, page layout isn’t exactly its focus, but it still has the chops to get this simple task done. Word 2004 is roughly equivalent to the 2003 version for Windows, so the same features should be present in both versions, though they may be accessed a bit differently in each.
Go ahead and fire up Word and open a new document from the file menu. Since what we’re doing here is more of a page layout task than word processing, go ahead and set the view to Page Layout, which can be done from the View menu. While your mucking about in the View menu, you may as well turn on Rulers, (if they’re not already on), and the Drawing toolbar, which can be activated from the toolbars submenu of the View menu. A quick note on the Rulers: we’ll be working in inches here, so if your Rulers are set to some other unit of measurement, you’ll either have to work out the conversion OR change your Ruler’s settings to inches.I hate math, so I changed the measurement units to inches. This can be done in the General section of the Preferences dialog.
With a new document open and Preferences and View set, we can now set the margins. Select Format->Document from the menu to bring up the Document dialog. This dialog contains a Margins tab. This tab contains options for setting the margins. Go figure. For this project I set all margins to zero. Word will gripe a bit about this when you print later on, but I have my reasons. 
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With the margins set, we’re ready to start designing our CD sleeve. Since I’m using plain 8.5 x 11 inch printer paper, I’m going to have to cut my CD sleeve from this. So, the first thing I’m going to do is create a couple of guidelines to show me where to cut. I set the page margins to zero so that these lines would be drawn right up to the edges of the paper. From the Drawing toolbar, select the Line tool. (It’s the button with the picture of the line on it. Pretty clever, those Microsoft folks.) Holding the shift key, click and drag the mouse downward in the document to draw a vertical line. Holding down the shift key tells Word you want a straight line, not a crooked one. Don’t worry too much about getting the size and placement of the line precisely right here. There’s a dialog that will let you adjust these with much more precision. Speaking of which...
Once you’ve drawn your vertical line, right click it. From the resulting context menu, select “Format AutoShape” to bring up the Format AutoShape dialog. From the dialog’s Size tab, set Height to 4.7 inches. Leave the Width setting at its default. Under the Layout tab, click the Advanced button. Under the Picture Position tab, you can set the horizontal and vertical positions of the line. Set the Absolute Position for horizontal to 4.7 inches. Set vertical to 0. Click OK to dismiss the dialog. 
The steps to draw the horizontal line are pretty much the same, except of course you want th draw the line horizontally across the document window instead of down it. Bring up the Format AutoShape dialog as before and set the  width th 4.7 inches. (Leave the height set to 0). Set the horizontal position to 0 and the vertical position to 4.7 inches. 
You don’t have much of a CD sleeve yet (unless you prefer absolute minimalism), but you do have a simple template for making one. You can save your document now.
You’re now ready to make a CD sleeve specifically for the disk you’re storing. How you proceed depends on what content you want for your sleeve. I usually like a picture with a bit of text describing the content of the CD. 
Select Insert->Picture->From File from the menu. Navigate to, select and open the image file you want to use for your sleeve. Word will insert the picture into your document at its full size and, by default, in the upper left corner. If you’re happy with the results, you can move on to the next step. Keep in mind that with the margins set to 0, anything near the edge of the page may get cut off when printing. Odds are, you’ll have to make some adjustements.
There’s a couple of ways to adjust the size of the image. Click on the image in the document window to select it. Word places a border around the image to indicate it’s currently selected. At various points along this border, you’ll see little “boxes.” These are points you can click and drag to adjust the size of the picture. If you work on one of the corner points and drag towards the center (or away from the center, if you’re enlarging the image), Word will resize the image while doing a reasonable job of maintaining the correct aspect ratio. Dragging straight up or down will tend to leave the picture looking stretched or squashed. Another thing to keep in mind: images downloaded off the web are generally low resolution, which means they’re just not going to look very good printed. Enlarging them is just going to make them look worse.
If you want more precise control over the size of the picture, you can right or Control-click the image and select Format Picture from the context menu to open the Format Picture diaog. Under this dialog’s size tab, you can either set the precise height and width of the image, or scale it to a percentage of its original size. You’ll probably also want to make sure “Lock Aspect Ratio” is checked to avoid that stretched out or squished look.
As with size, your picture’s position can be adjusted by either clicking and dragging it or with the Format Picture diaog. (Bet you can guess how to open that...) If the picture won’t move through clicking and dragging, you need to change its text wrapping setting from the Layout tab of the Format Picture dialog. You’ll see a few options under Wrapping Style. Select “Square.”
You can also adjust the picture’s position with more precision from this dialog. This works pretty much the same as adjusting the position of our guidelines did. Under the Layout tab, click the “Advanced” button. From here, you can set the picture’s horizontal and vertical position, just as you did with the guidelines earlier. When you’re happy with your settings, click OK to dismiss the dialog. 
In addition to a picture to illustrate the CD sleeve, it’s nice to include some text to describe the contents of the disk. Click the Text Box button on the Drawing toolbar (it’s labeled with the 2D letter A with the cursor bar next to it) and click and drag in the document window to draw your text box. Click inside the text box and enter some text. To adjust the alignment of the text (left, right or center) right or Control-click inside the text box and select Paragraph from the context menu. You can also bring up this dialog by pressing Command-Option-M with the cursor inside the text box. You can set also the text alignment from the Indents and Spacing tab of this dialog. To adjust the font, bring up the Font dialog by pressing Command-D or selecting Font from the context menu (right or Control-click to display).
The size and positioning of the text box can be adjusted very much as before with the picture and guidelines. Right or Control-click on the border of the text box to bring up the context menu and select Format Text Box. Go ahead and make your adjustments. One more thing: by default, Word draws a border around your text box. This is an actual border that will show up when the document is printed and not just a display border to indicate the text box is selected. To get rid of it, open the Format Text Box dialog's Lines and Colors tab. Under Lines, click “Color” and select “No Line.” Once you’re satisfied, click “OK” to dismiss the dialog.
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You’re now ready to print and save your CD sleeve. Click “Save As” from the File menu to assign a new file name so you don’t overwrite the original blank CD sleeve document. We’re saving that to reuse as a template. If you're ready to commit your work to paper, go ahead and select Print from the File menu and... print. Cut out your homebrew CD sleeve along the guidelines, insert into the CD jewel case, and you’ve got yourself one professional looking CD. Well, no, you don’t. At least I didn’t end up with one. But it’s still nicer than just some handwriting scribbled along the front of the disk. Happy computing!
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