#it's a bit experimental and the idea kept changing along the way in favor of playing with brushes and patterns

[turbo-tsundere]

#gonta gokuhara #gokuhara gonta #danganronpa #v3 #ndrv3 #my art #first post of this year yey #it's a bit experimental and the idea kept changing along the way in favor of playing with brushes and patterns #but I'm glad I finished smth. it's been a while. maybe this finally marks the end of my typical seasonal artblock #my guy always saving me from my slumps xD

[first-edition-dumpster-fire]

“Let me help you...”

Fandom: Twilight

Pairing: Jasper x Bella, mostly canon pairings

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, f.masturbation, oral (f.receiving), somewhat cheating, thigh riding, cowgirl position, cream pie. Mentions of su!cide like once, inappropriate language, toxic relationships, too long

I paced the length of my room heatedly, frustration and irritation leaking out of my very pores. The rain slammed into the window violently and had been since he’d left. Again.

It wasn’t unusual for Edward and I to get into fights like these ever since we’d gotten home from Volterra. More often then not, he’d say his piece, ignore me, and take off in a fit of self-righteousness and self-hatred. A strange combination if I ever saw one.

When we got back, things were tense, awkward, and I didn’t know how to fix it. If I even wanted to at all. I was long tired of practically breaking my back and risking my life to make him happy only to get tossed aside like I didn’t matter. He made it clear what mattered most to him and what I wanted wasn’t even on the list. To make matters worse, his animosity only grew after the majority of his family sided in favor of turning me into one of them. It hurt that he’d rather hide me away and constantly risk my life along with the lives of his family just to keep me human without considering my thoughts or feelings on the matter.

What I wanted, all I’d ever wanted, was to be his equal. For him to see me as beautiful, strong and powerful as I saw him. I loved him with every fiber, cell, molecule of my being and he loved me. Loved me enough that he was going to kill himself to avoid living on without me. Enough to put himself through agony and constantly test his control just to be in the same room as me. He loved me. He lived for me.

At least, that’s what I thought, anyways. Our newest argument tested my resolve a lot more than our other ones. Like every other time, we were arguing about my change. While I just wanted to confirm the date for my change, he still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that he’d lost the debate on whether or not I’d become like him. He insisted that he wouldn’t turn me, that he forbade anyone else from doing it, and that he didn’t want to hear me being up something so stupid and meaningless again.

It’s safe to say that his words hurt a bit. The oh-so-meaningless topic that he so desperately wanted to avoid was what gave him his family. It’s what allowed us to fall in love. It gave him unfathomable abilities that most could only dream about. And without it, the lives of all the people we cared about, and our own, would be in danger. I told him as much. Then it got worse.

Usually when we argued, Edward ignores what I have to say, insists that he’s in the right, and leaves when I don’t cave. He always returns and never insults me. Except this time, he did.

“You are so stupidly naive, Bella! I’m a vampire, I would know better then you, and I do! Its my job to take care of you, not that you make it easy. You never make it easy for me! You’re so selfish and you do it on purpose, it’s as if you enjoy being such a burden!”

I had stood there silently for a pause. Partially in shock but mostly in an embarrassed rage. Did he have any idea how guilty I’ve felt these last few months for making him and his family leave? How much I’ve hated myself for constantly being in danger and relying on the protection from him and the pack? And how dare he talk to me like that in my own home, when it was him who revealed my existence to the Volturi and put us all in danger?!

“Get out,” I hissed through gritted teeth, staying conscious of the fact that Charlie was asleep in the other room. It’s not like Edward couldn’t hear me perfectly anyway.

“Bella-“ I didn’t want to hear him lecture me or placate me or blame me. In fact, I didn’t want to hear his voice at all, not unless he came to his senses and agreed to the change.

“No, Edward! I want to be alone! Go away!” I raised my voice, a silent threat to wake Charlie and he knew it.

He glared at me bitterly. “I’m going to go hunt with Emmett, I’ll be here before you wake up.”

“Don’t bother. Just leave, Edward,” I whisper, exhausted by the argument and debating why I even bothered at all. I only vaguely remember why we started fighting in the first place.

A big thing that changed when the Cullens returned was my relationship with some members. With Esme gone, I’d realized how I missed having an actual mother and embraced her gratefully. Alice and I’s relationship grew strained after her encouragement of Edward’s unsavory behavior. Rosalie filled that spot as I spent more time with Emmett. Realizing our similar experiences, if opposing viewpoints, brought us closer together. Carlisle became wasn’t the same savior I thought he was, also allowing Edward to do what he wanted even though, as coven leader, he had the final say on major decisions. I knew he was mournful about our change in dynamics, but I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him, yet.

Jasper and I still didn’t talk too much, and it was made even more obvious that he tried to avoid me, even if it seemed like he didn’t want to. I constantly sought him out to explain that I didn’t blame him for my birthday and that I’d like to get closer to him. He just never gave me the chance. I knew he and Alice called it quits and it seemed like the divorce made him even more isolated that before. In the seven months I spent in my depression, I thought of Jasper often. I was distraught with guilt over my part in their leaving, I couldn’t imagine how he felt. Over time, the guilt turned into genuine feelings for him.

He consumed my thoughts, dreams and fantasies. Every time I closed my eyes, his blond hair and lopsided smirk greeted me. And when I was with Edward, I wanted Jasper. Like earlier tonight, when kissing Edward I pretended he was Jasper and got a bit too enthusiastic. Edward pulled himself away to prevent himself from “making a mistake”, the final straw.

Screw Edward.

Now I was without him again, and unlikely to take him back this time, and it wasn’t nearly so painful. I’d outgrown, out-matured Edward. And my thoughts about Jasper’s lips and body kept me from being truly upset about it. If anything, I was incredibly horny. A deep ache had settled into the pit of my stomach, neglected in favor of my Edward-induced rage. Now, it had risen to a fiery inferno of lust.

I thought back to a conversation I had with Angela while helping her with her graduation invites. We were gossiping about our relationships when she brought up sex. Though it embarrassed me to admit that I was still a virgin, Angela quickly assured me that sex wasn’t what it was all cracked up to be most of the time and that when her and Ben had sex for the first few times, she didn’t come at all. We got into the topic of masturbation and how to pleasure yourself. I left her home red faced and couldn’t look Edward in the eyes for a good while after that.

Feeling defeated and aroused, I climbed up on my bed and straddled one of my pillows. Shifting it to match Angela’s description, I lined the edge up with my slit and lowered my body onto it. The stimulation was a soothing balm to the ache of my neglected cunt, but it also wasn’t enough. I experimentally rolled my hips, the course material sliding along my clit in a way that made me gasp. I repeated the motion a few more times to get into a good rhythm before speeding up the pace. I had to drag my pillow back into place a couple of times because the force of my movements pushed it away. I slammed a palm onto the wall in front of me and leaned forward to hit a better angle. My hair fell in my face and stuck there due to built up sweat. I sunk my face into another pillow and let it muffle my whines and moans.

Leaning back, I changed the rhythm and tweaked my pebbled nipples, struggling to find the one thing that would push me over the edge. I was so close, the coil in my stomach building up but never peaking. Growing more and more helpless, I aggressively humped my pillow, needing to come. I paid little attention to the evidence of my arousal staining the pillowcase and focused entirely on how I could find release.

Letting my imagination run wild, I indulged in all of my secret fantasies that I’d never considered before. I imagined different positions and kinks, as well as foreplay. The thing that got me going was the dirty things I’d imagined Jasper saying as he wreaked my body. His voice in my fantasy was rough, deep, demanding and used to respect and obedience. Accent prominent as he bent me to his will. I felt my clit twitch the smallest bit and hurried to redirect my thoughts. Despite my feelings for him, getting off to my boyfriend’s recently-divorced brother’s voice was a new type of wrong. Especially since his ex-wife was my friend.

I couldn’t help it, though, and more thoughts about him invaded my mind. My fantasies took a different shape and went from focusing on me receiving pleasure to Jasper’s ministrations on my wanton body. In every fantasy, at every angle, I saw his handsome face and strong body maneuvering my own into bliss.

Feeling all types of wrong for how close I was, so so close, I opened my eyes with my head in the direction facing the window. I locked gaze with a pair of familiar golden eyes.

They very ones I’d been very close to orgasming to.

~*~

Running full speed to the Swan residence that was home to the family human and future vampire of our coven, I pondered all of the changes that have occurred over the past year to my family. It was the twentieth year of my abstinence of human blood in a row and the first time I’ve gone more than a decade without killing a human. There were few close calls as well, not including my almost attacking Bella, the aforementioned human. I had much to be grateful for, almost enough to match up to my regrets, both as a human and as a vampire. Lying about my age to join the C*nfederate army. Wanting to join that side of the war at all. My actions as the major in Maria’s army. The humans I slaughtered. Not killing Maria. Letting Carlisle pressure me into marrying Alice even though neither of us wanted it. Every single one of my slips. Most importantly, however, the only near slip that would scar me for life was almost murdering Isabella Swan on her eighteenth birthday.

Though I didn’t trust or like her much at first, she’d grown on me the same way she did the rest of our family, even Rose, though she’d never admit it to Bella’s face. We were ostracized even from other vampires for our way of life, not to mention the fearful humans, it was breath of fresh air to be so kindly accepted by someone like Bella. Not only did she accept us all for what we were, she praised the very thing that made us outcasts from everyone else. Her kindness and generosity for the undeserving was unwavering and magnetic.

Speaking of undeserving, I couldn’t believe that an angel such as herself could forgive us all so easily, especially Edward. On the night of the vote, as Esme swept up the shattered glass after our positions on Bella’s dilemma were decided, Bella had divulged her reasoning for accidentally breaking our window. The amount of mistrust and rage that flew off of me the second I heard about what Edward did and said to her before we left was palpable enough to affect Bella, a sense of betrayal lingering on her soft skin.

He never told us exactly what happened that afternoon, just that I had terrified her enough to break up with Edward and that he couldn’t stay in the place where he’d gotten his undead heart broken. He’d never mentioned that he was the one who shattered her heart and soul, nor the cruel words and harsh actions he’d used to do it. We acted as if her truth was the only one we’d known of and assured her that she was apart of this family, with or without her relationship with Edward. At a level she couldn’t understand, though, we took turns verbally harassing Edward for his actions and his part in hurting the poor girl.

And of course, Alice had known the whole time, before anyone else. She’d known months before that Edward was going to end things with Bella and how she’d end up as a result. She, Bella’s best friend, knew the agony she would experience and still let Edward destroy her.

Alice and I had already been separated at this point, our combined anger at my actions created a wedge in our already fractured relationship. When we’d met, we both instantly knew we weren’t right for one another in the long run. We didn’t fit correctly and didn’t want to change ourselves that much to try. Joining up with the Cullens put our arrangement with one another in jeopardy when Carlisle conditioned that in order for us to stay with them, I had to marry Alice. While I didn’t mind my pixie haired companion, and certainly enjoyed relieving stress with her, I knew neither he or myself wanted to be tied down to each other that way. But I caved in, I was grateful to her and did love her in a way, and definitely didn’t want to risk the alternative of leaving the Cullens when we’d gone through so much just to find them.

We only married once, with the Cullens present as witnesses, and only wore our rings for about a year. On all of our legal documents for when we changed locations, I put her down as my wife, but other than that I never brought up the fact that we were married and she didn’t, either.

I should’ve known our relationship was coming to a close when we’d stopped having sex. Right around the time she saw Bella enter our lives for the first time. Looking back, I should’ve been suspicious about why she no longer came to me in the dead of night the same night the police Chief’s daughter arrived. I was too blind about Edward’s odd behavior and subsequent obsession to actually question her about it. Living with the Cullens and their tamer lifestyle was making me soft.

When Bella entered our lives, Alice was ecstatic, happier than I’d ever seen her. Enthralled by her new playmate and best friend, I’d forgotten the shift in our dynamic in favor of my own interest in my brother’s young girlfriend. She was absolutely fascinating in just about every way. I felt as warm as a human experiencing what she felt when she was around us. So inviting, and curious, and sweet. I barely noticed her scent, only taking note when it heavily affected Edward.

Alice was their biggest supporter, drowning out any of their doubts or worries with a bright, knowing smile. God, I hated how much she knew. She knew everything and at the same time, nothing.

She saw far enough in the future to picture the things she wanted through rose-tinted glasses, and going through the motions to make they happened. She didn’t care of the consequences, why would she when everything would be fine anyways? This line of thinking, her thought process, and what happened to Bella because of it, is what spurred me to turn our separation into a formal divorce.

Esme was beside herself, terrified that I’d leave the family once my tie to them was gone. That was only slightly true. Initially yes, Alice was my only tie to the Cullens, an affiliation out of personal safety. And yes, my tie to them through her was gone forever, but my years spent with them tied me to them individually. Conditions, rules and ultimatums be damned, these outcasts and freaks were my family and I wouldn’t leave them. Especially now that Bella was finally going to be apart of the coven.

The reason I was headed to her house was because Alice had informed me that Emmett was going hunting. Emmett was the only make in our family I hunted with on our own, I usually preferred to hunt with the women. I’d always been protective over women and I couldn’t abandon that instinct, even though I knew they could handle themselves just fine without me. I figured that this would be a good chance to invite Edward along to clear the air between us.

Things had been tense between Edward and I, he’d always been a bit more distrustful of me then everyone else and my loss of control at Bella’s birthday party cemented this. Part of the reason he’d left after we made our leave with Forks was because he thought I’d wanted Bella for myself. I wasn’t going to lie, I am a man and human or not, she was an attractive girl, if a bit young. And her compassion towards me, that no one but Esme and Carlisle ever afforded me was invigorating. As his brother, though, Edward should’ve known I’d never let my feelings get in the way of his first chance at happiness.

Unfortunately, he’d never let go of his grudge, even now that he was reunited with Bella. I’d resolved that whatever problems they were currently having in their relationship were none of my business and respected his wish to keep my distance. I’ll admit, though, it was hard and uncomfortable, seeing as Bella was always around and sought me out often. It only worsened Edward’s ire. Maybe a good hunt, and a fair tussle would straighten us out and he’d relax a little.

Nearing the line of trees on the edge of the Swan property, I smelled the aged scent of Edward, showing he was no longer here and hadn’t been for at least half an hour. He’d already left with Emmett, I realized. Alice probably knew and set me up for some reason.

I focused on the human residents of the household, one deeply asleep and the other...energetic?

Bella’s emotions were all over the place. Anger, guilt, love, attraction, insecurity. All at the same time. The two most dominant feelings, however, were arousal and desperation. I’d never felt such aching lust such as hers. It seeped into the marble granite of my skin, making me feel a bit perverted.

Curiosity overthrowing rationality had me silently climbing the tree just outside her window onto a branch with a perfect vantage point of her on her bed. Masturbating.

I wasn’t new to the concept of pleasuring oneself. It was natural for lack of an external outlet for lust. I just never imagined Bella being the type of person to do so. While I definitely knew well that she wasn’t a prude, unlike my brother, I figured she was unfamiliar with the action. I figured wrong.

Watching her frenzied movements as she humped her pillow in search of release, I swallowed back at just how wrong I was. A sheen of sweat made her bare form glow in the dull light of her room. The hair that wasn’t pasted to her forehead and wound around her neck tumbled down the curve of her back, the curls swaying frantically in time with the thrusts of her hips. Her breaths came rapidly, harsh exhales with occasional soft moans. She was actually speaking, but didn’t seem to be aware of the fact.

“Yessss.”

“Oh!”

“Like that. Just like-ah!”

“Fuck! Oh please, please, please!”

“Such a whore, yeah! I’m your the filthy whore. Use my cunt however you want.”

“Want it inside. Cum inside me. Want it.”

“Ooh, sir, fuck me hard!”

Each phrase that passed her pouted lips stirred me up further, coupled with her emotions, a single twitch could have me barreling through the window and fucking her into next week or falling out of the tree. I’d never been so hard in my life.

I never knew Bella had a thing for dirty talk. Is this what she dreamed about? Or was it something her and my saint like brother did in private? If so, why wasn’t he hear now. If I was her boyfriend, I’d never let either of us leave the bed. We’d be worse then Emmett and Rosalie.

Except she wasn’t my girlfriend. I wasn’t her boyfriend.

She was with my brother.

And I was watching her trying to get off like a pervert.

No, I wasn’t like a pervert. I was one.

Shamed, I turned to drop from the tree, race home, and pretend I’d never come here. Hell, I’d pretend to not even know where she lived.

Then I heard it.

“Jasper...” Was she talking about me? Maybe I misheard or she misspoke?

“Oh, fuck, Jasper, yeah! I wanna come so bad. Make me come! Let me come!”

“Jasper! Jasper! Jasper!” Each repetition of my name was punctuated by a roll of her hips and a whine.

I felt my eyes turn black as I dug my fingers into the tree, splintering the dark bark. I didn’t mishear a damn thing. And she was saying it on purpose. Whatever fantasy she was having, I was the star. I was the one who was giving her an orgasm. That thought left a possessive feeling in my gut as my cock threatened to tear out of my pants.

“Bella,” I whispered, palming my dick, debating on whether I should leave or stay to witness her expression when she came.

As if she heard me, she turn her face towards the window and opened her eyes, immediately finding my own gaze which was trained on her.

A moment of silence passed before she suddenly fell off her bed. A small thud signaled a hard landing and I dosed Charlie with another layer of tranquility and exhaustion to keep him from coming in here.

Sliding up the window of her room, I pounced on her bed to make sure she was alright. A pair of bewildered, wide brown eyes locked with mine as she lie sprawled on the hardwood floor.

“Are you okay?” It’s official, this is now the last place I want to be.

“Jasper? What are you doing here?” Great question. Answer mine so I can leave.

“Not an answer. I came for Edward. He wasn’t here. I thought you were distressed about something. You are not,” I rush out, her humiliation making me both turned on and uncomfortable.

Her face told me how stupid she thought my last statement was and I was glad her sole emotion wasn’t one of embarrassment anymore.

“Well, Edward isn’t here and if he knows any better, he won’t come back,” she says bitterly, anger clouding her features. Did she dump him?

“And you’re okay?” The thud I heard sounded pretty rough.

“Obviously.”

Do I leave? I almost don’t want to anymore. She’s treating me more normally than anyone has since we got back. But she was still naked and that was distracting for both of us. I look around the room and grab a lump of fabric off the floor and offer it to her to cover up.

The cloth turns out to be an unflattering and oversized sweatshirt in a shade of deep blue. It wasn’t hard to guess who gave it to her.

“Not that I mind, but what are you still doing here?” Bella brings her knees to her chest, slightly exposing her bare pussy to my excellent eyesight but I don’t point it out. The embarrassment has finally left her system and I want to keep it gone and myself here as long as possible.

“I don’t really know,” I answer her honestly, getting comfortable on her bed and shifting so she could join me.

Climbing on the bed and sitting as far from me as possible, Bella let’s out a sigh and continues to stare at me.

“So you and Edward are quarreling again?” Oh you’ve got to fucking kidding me, Whitlock. You have a gorgeous, semi nude girl who you caught moaning your name while fucking her pillow and you bring up her fucking boyfriend?!

Bella looks mildly irritated at my question, obviously still upset with my brother, but opens her mouth to answer anyways.

“It’s not just a fight this time. Actually I feel like all of our recent arguments have been leading up to this. It’s so tiring trying to argue with a wall. When he left, I just told him not to come back and I meant it. I’ve never done that before. But I can’t be with someone who constantly invalidates my feelings and risks our relationship for his own selfish reasons,” she bemoans, her misery at trying so hard for her relationship only to fail hitting her hard. As much as I thought she deserved better, Edward was who she wanted and she didn’t have him anymore.

“Well, either way, the whole family is in your corner, no matter what. Truth is, we had no idea what Edward had done to end things with you, he’d painted it make it seem like you’d ended things because I’d scared you,” I said sheepishly.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no, that wasn’t it at all. I kinda figured he would’ve embellished the truth, but not to that extent. You have to know Jasper that I never once blamed you for that night. It wasn’t your fault, or anyone’s. It was just an unfortunate incident.”

Could this girl be anymore wonderful? Not only did she forgive me, but she was never upset with me in the first place? God, how did Edward not give her whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it. If she were mine, I’d be her loyal slave, and happy about it. I’d spend every moment bending to her every whim.

I wanted her to be mine. I just wanted her, period.

“Bella, you couldn’t possibly understand how much that means to me. I’ve been torturing myself with the thought that you feared me and didn’t want me around. So, I couldn’t be happier that you’ve said that,” I thank her, feeling as if I could cry if I had the ability.

Compassion and heartache cloud her face and she hurriedly rushes to my side, placing a hand in my thigh and the other cupping my jaw. How distracting! How did Edward resist her, I wonder for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Of course, not! I couldn’t ever fear you, Jasper! I should’ve come to you sooner and told you. I’m glad that now we’ll have the opportunity to spend more time together. Given my upcoming change and my relationship with Edward ending,” she added, looking at me through her lashes, fearing rejection.

Not only did Edward resist her but he rejected her as well? What the hell was wrong with that boy?

“I’m very relieved your joining our family for good. It’s been made abundantly clear that we can no longer function without you,” I tell her. I know what she’s trying to tell me but I’m done with her implications. I want the girl who was desperately fucking herself with a pillow like a little bitch in heat, I wanted her to acknowledge that only I could give her what she craved. I wanted her to beg.

Surprise is written all over her face. It’s clear that I understood what she was implying and she’s confused on my response. I’ll give her as long as she needs to figure it out.

Smirking, I stroke a gentle finger along her throat. As overjoyed as I was to find out she doesn’t fear me and never did, I was still dangerous to her as a human and she liked that.

“Um, I-uh, I’m glad too. No more of this fragile, clumsy human business anymore,” she stammered, her heartbeat racing under my fingertip.

“Durability is quite the advantage as a vampire. Though I will admit that I’ll miss the clumsiness,” I murmur boldly. It’s true, though. I quite like her fawn-like gait. Maybe it’ll transfer over as a vampire.

“Hmph, I sure won’t,” she bites out. Looks like I sparked a nerve. Interesting. Time to change the subject.

“What exactly about the durability entices you, Bella,” I drawl out, emphasizing her name with my now thicker accent. I see her throat struggle to swallow before she answers.

“Besides the fact that it’ll be harder for our supernatural enemies to hurt me or use me to hurt you?” Her bravado is clearly false but I applaud her for trying to fool me.

“Tut. Tut. Tut. I can tell you’re lying, Bella,” I admonish mockingly. She shifts her body to be leaning towards me and I notice that I’ve done the same.

“Um,” she begins nervously, unsure if whether she should say so. She continues anyway. “It would’ve been easier to be more physically affectionate with Edward as a vampire. Not that I want that anymore.”

While it made me upset that that was her reasoning, I can’t truly fault her either. She was truly in love with him before he’d fucked it up. It was clear that her ignored advances had made her insecure about her looks and I seethed at that.

“Who said Edward is the only one who wants you? And trust me, you don’t need to be a vampire to fuck one, I promise, sugar,” I coo, throwing her a bone to ease her esteem. She wants to be wanted, and I’ve long decided to give her exactly what she wants.

She gasps. “Really? I thought it was impossible.” Her confusion was so cute. Her furrowed eyebrows were so adorable that o though about the other ways I could make them do that.

“It is impossible, for a virginal prude like Edward. A boy who knows nothing of sex or how to pleasure a woman,” I declare, making the clear distinction between her and Edward. Their problem was that when he left her broken, he gave her the opportunity to mend her self into someone who outgrew and matured past him. An opportunity which she took.

“What you need,” I continue, leaning into her warm body and she leans upward to kneel above me, “is a man to treat you and that delectable body the way you deserve.”

By the end of my sentence, I have one hand resting in her thigh, just above her knee, and the other high on her waist, my hand having found it’s way under that horrible sweatshirt and my thumb skirting under her breast. Her hand had shifted from my thigh to my hip, fingers curving around my belt, and the one cupping my face now wound into my hair.

Breathing once again heavy, she again tries to seek in control. “And you’re the man for the job?”

“Fuck, yes,” I hum, meeting her challenge and slotting my lips against hers.

So soft and sweet, the flavor and feeling were addictive. I could see why Edward struggled, but I wouldn’t.

She kept mostly still while I kissed her and I angrily realized that this was a condition of affection with Edward. I egged her into kissing me back and ran my cool tongue along her bottom lip as encouragement. Falling into it easily, Bella moaned into my mouth and eagerly allowed my tongue into her mouth. Exploring, I slowly massaged her tongue with my own, a silent urging to slow down. I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and I wanted her to enjoy this for as long as possible.

But I guess months of pent up sexual repression took its toll because she ignored me and used her grip on my hair and hip to pull herself closer to me. Going at her pace, l pulled her by her leg to straddle my thigh. The same position I’d found her in when I’d arrived. She pushed her entire weight on me, wanting to get as close as possible, and I welcomed her happily. My thumb was no longer stroking her ribs, but clutching her tits and lightly tugging her nipples as I’d seen her do to herself. She moaned and ground her hips onto my flexing thigh, wetness seeping through the fabric quickly. Her pace was rough, choppy, so I grabbed her hips myself and symmetric her at a much smoother pace. Once she got the hang of it and was moving on her own, my hands returned to her torso to remove the one piece of clothing she had on and allowed me full access to her body.

She seemed slightly embarrassed to be fully naked while I was fully clothed and her hips stuttered. I once again got her going but I didn’t let go this time. Bouncing my thigh, I dragged her greedy pussy as she cried out my name and yanked my hair. By now, my leg was soaked and I pulled my lips from hers as she arched her back so I could give her neglected tits some well-deserved attention. Pulling a pert nipple into my mouth, I rolled the pink bud in my mouth and tugged gently. Non-stop moans poured from her mouth loudly as she neared her first orgasm.

Forcing her hips harder, faster, I helped her chase her release. With a final yelp, she let go and came all over my thigh, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open. As she calmed down a little, I checked to make sure Charlie was still sleeping and luckily he hadn’t stirred in the slightest bit. Good. I’d need him like that until morning.

Leaning away from her, I surveyed my work. Her legs were twitching slightly, pussy swollen, chest heaving with small marks around her breasts from my mouth, lips swollen and eyes scanning over me.

“Is something wrong?” She seemed to be perfectly enjoying herself but if she wanted to stop there was nothing to do than what she wanted.

“No,” she drew out, exaggerating the ‘oh’ sound. A small smile tugged at her lips.

“Then what?” Even now, she confused me.

“You’re wearing too many clothes. I want them off,” she commanded. How cute. She thought being a brat would get her anywhere. For now it would, this was clearly her first time and we quite literally had all the time in the world. Besides, it’d be more fun to let her think she was in charge for now.

I’d indulge her for now. “Whatever you say, Princess.” I felt her shiver at the nickname as I shrugged out of my shirt and mentally catalogued that response for later.

As she marveled at my physique, I pondered how I’d get out of my pants and shoes without having to move her off of me. The smell of her cum reached my nose as I got lost in thought while rubbing her thighs. God, she smelled good. Probably tasted even better.

Even better.

Focusing on her face and she waited impatiently for me to continue, I leaned back so my head hit her pillows, coincidentally finding myself on the pillow she was humping. Before she could question me, I yanked her forward to kneel above my face.

Panic set into her features as she registered my intentions. Doubts were intercepting her lust.

“I don’t want to hear it, Bella. I don’t need to breath and I have super strength. I’ll be fine. Get down here and fuck my face, now!”

Although the lust had set back in, she was still unsure.

“I don’t know why you’re so shy when you just made a mess all over my lap. And not to mention the pillow. Just do that again,” I ordered, taking note of a fresh wave of her arousal at my words and the fact that I was admitting to watching her. It seems my new lover have a thing for degradation and exhibitionism.

She slowly started lowering herself down, angling so that she was lined up with my mouth. She was going a little too slow but I wanted her to want this as much as I did. Still, as soon as she got within reach, I lifted my neck to plunge my tongue into her dripping cunt. Instantly, I started thrusting in and out while lapping up her juices and making sure my nose was hitting her clit. Her hands immediately yanked my hair even though she tried to pull her hips away from my insistent mouth.

Soon she was grinding against me and her little whimpers and whines reached my ears. Her thighs closed around my head as she dragged her slit up and down. I lazily whirled my tongue and moaned and the vibration caused shudders along her body, her legs starting to shake. She was losing energy but still wanted to come. I quickly removed my remaining clothes and wrapped my hands around her thighs and renew vigorously tongue-fucking that sweet pussy. Shoving my face between her legs fully, I felt like all I could see, taste, smell and feel was Bella’s cunt. All I could hear were her angelic moans as she again neared her second orgasm. I thought it couldn’t get any better for me. By far the best moment in my long life.

Then I felt a small, warm hand wrap around my hard cock.

Holy fuck, it got better.

Sure she was inexperienced and was clueless on what to do, but it felt fucking amazing. She pumped me in time to each of my thrusts into her. I started rocking my hips into her hand, keeping in mind that I had to reign in my strength as to not hurt her.

We were both moaning loudly, both so close and I wanted to come so badly but I couldn’t. I needed her to come at least three times before I did once and I needed to come inside her. As far as I was concerned, Bella’s pussy was my happy place. Truly magical.

Removing my hands from her thighs, I guided her free hand to her nipples and got her to start tugging on ‘em to her leisure. With that same hand, I entered two fingers inside her and began pumping those alongside my tongue. With my other free hand, I wrapped my fingers around the ones on my dick, showing her how to do it correctly and how I liked it. For future reference, of course. I was still holding out right now.

She came within seconds after that and collapsed backwards, head landing on my thigh. Again, I rubbed her thigh soothingly, wanting to give her some time to adjust. I wondered if she’d even last for another orgasm. I was surprised she could take, too. Still. One of these days, I was going to bury myself between her legs and not come up for hours. I wanted her to be crying, begging and constantly coming. We’d have to establish a safe word for a lot of the things I wanted to do.

As I was wondering if I should give her a break for the night, she suddenly turned around so her stomach was flat against my body, wrapped her hands around my still erect cock and began kitten licked. It took all of my strength, control and resistance training from over the years to hold back from grabbing the back of her head and fucking her beautiful face. That would definitely have to wait til she’s a vampire.

“Shit, baby, mmmm...” I groaned, ducking my chin to lap up the rest of her orgasm. She moaned against the head which she’d begun sucking on and I almost came all over her face. The thought alone was tempting. “So good. Fuckkk.”

I felt her satisfaction and elation at my praise and catalogued that one for later, too.

“Does it feel good, sir?” She tried taking me deeper but wanted my input first. What a good girl.

“So good, Princess, you’ve got no idea. Mmmm,” I purposely hummed into her lips and she mewled, lightly thrusting her hips into my all-too-willing mouth. “I thought you’d be too tired to continue. Tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

This set her off into a panic, shocking me. “No! I don’t wanna stop, yet! I want more!”

“What a greedy little pussy you have!” I suck her lip and clit into my mouth and she sits up to try to get a better angle before pulling off completely.

I would’ve protested and tried to pull her back but she turned around completely to face me again and sat back onto my lap. So beautiful.

“You haven’t come. I want to make you feel good, too,” she explains shyly, glancing down at my bobbing erection.

“You’re so sweet, you deserve to be rewarded! Do you want my cock in you, doll? Want me to fuck you with it? Come in that tight, little cunt of yours?” Her eyes light up at the thought before a slight look of fear enters her eyes. Fuck, her hymen. I hope she’s not too scared because I can handle it just fine.

“What if it doesn’t fit? You’re big,” she frets. I try not to preen at her observation since it’s bothering her but I’m quick to reassure her.

“Don’t worry, it’ll fit. And don’t worry about me tearing your hymen, my control is much better,” I soothe, intertwining our fingers.

At my words, she giggles softly and then full on laughs at my face. “Oh, I accidentally tore my hymen years ago! Clumsy, remember?”

Leave it to the beautiful klutz seated in my lap to be the one calming my nerves. I could easily fall for her. I probably already was, but I’ll give her all the time she needs to heal from my brother.

I lie there, just staring at her, taking her in, before my little brat becomes impatient with me again. I’m going to have to train her about that. Oh, I couldn’t wait to punish her one day soon.

She grabs my cock and pulls it towards her pussy, running it up and down her slit, moaning lightly. Or maybe she was moaning really loudly, I can’t tell over my own moans and the ringing in my ears.

I sit up and pull her with me. I slowly began easing her down my dick before bottoming out. I wait til the look of discomfort leaves her face and start guiding her hips until she was bouncing on her own. I pulled her into a kiss as she struggled to find purchase on my shoulders, pulling her bottom lip into my mouth and her tongue tracing my lips.

She wraps her arms around my shoulders and move my mouth from hers down to her neck and shoulders and chest. She sobbing at all the stimulation she’s getting and I reach a hand down to start rubbing her clit. My other hand he’s to her tut to hold it in place for my mouth. I start whispering dirty things in her ears, all of the things I planned on doing, as well as sweet nothings, also things I planned on doing.

“Fuckin’ take my cock, greedy little whore!”

“Doing so well, baby, yeah, ride it. Use me.”

“Gonna to fill this cunny up all the way! Won’t be walkin’ for weeks!”

“Oh, you feel so good, sugar, the best! Wanna make you feel good!”

“Can’t wait to turn ya. Gonna fuck you on everythin’, everywhere. Bend you over. Fuck that dirty little mouth, show you who you belong to! You’re fuckin’ mine! This pussy? Mine! Ain’t nobody fuckin’ you this good! Ain’t nobody gonna! Ain’t that right! Don’t you dare fuckin’ come! Not til I say so! Beg! Now!”

Tears were streaking her face, legs shaking, hips stuttering and pace uneven. I almost felt sorry for her. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was still fucking me, holding herself as close to me as possible. Chanting my name like a prayer.

“Come on, darlin’, all’s you gotta do is beg a little. Say it, baby. Tell me how much you want it,” I huff, encouraging her. I was so close but I needed her to come one last time before I let go.

“Need it,” she shrieked, trying to find her words. “I need it, Jasper! I need to come. Want it more then anything! Love you so much! Make me come all over your fat cock! Make me yours, please! Please please please!”

“Let go, baby,” I amended, grabbing her hips so I could come right after her. She loved me. I was gonna spoil my baby rotten for the rest of forever.

She screamed as she came rutting frantically and clenching down on me hard. I started fucking up into her hard, thrusts going deep inside her. At the same time I was yanking her down the same moment my hips went up.

“Ooh, fuck fuck fuck Bella fuck fuck fuck fuck,” I growled, sending myself over the edge and she cried from the overstimulation. “Fuck! Bellaaaaa!”

I collapsed onto the bed taking her with me. Her hot cheeks being soothed by my cool chest as I played with her now tangled hair. She ran her fingers up and down my abdomen, feeling the contours of my body, trying to memorize it.

“Jasper?” Her voice was sleepy.

“Hmm?” I’d clean her up when she fell asleep and watch over her

“That was a bit intense for my first time.” Oh, shit! Did she not like it?

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, rubbing her back. She tenses up, suddenly rejuvenated.

“No! No! Not in a bad way! I can’t wait for the next time, actually. What you’ll do next,” she insists, smiling softly.

“Well, in that case,” I mutter as I flip her onto her back for round two.

Enjoy this, folks! It’s unrelated to my multi-chapter fic, though they share a similar plot

#jasper whitlock #bella swan #jasper/bella #twilight renaissance #fandom #fanfic #twilight

[whenimaunicorn]

The Blaster

The Mandalorian x female Reader

Notes: Explicit like whoa. gun play, anal play, spanking/slapping, safeword use, and if you can get through those heavy kinks there’s a reward at the end. Based on a combination of a few anonymous smut requests for the above elements, hope I did you all proud. Big Dick headcanon is in full effect in this one. Gif used with permission from @underbetelgeuse 

Can be read as a continuation of either The Split or Training Exercise, or it can stand on its own. Whatever you’d like to imagine, darlings. Also I hope I got the layout of the Razor Crest right. This is how I remember it.

You’re doing it again. Somehow when you’re a guest on Mando’s ship, you always find yourself opening up his gun cabinet and gazing at the glory that is his arsenal. The carefully mounted collection of blasters, rifles, and other deadly weapons is as impressive as any arms dealer’s. Better, really, because you know each one of these has been used. Coldly, mercilessly, probably recently. And, when each one’s job was done, cleaned meticulously, lovingly oiled up, and placed precisely in its home again. Something about this cabinet encapsulates everything about what draws you to this man.

“I know that look.”

You suppress any sign of surprise at Mando’s appearance over your shoulder. His cape swirls at the back of your legs, his modulated voice heavy with that maddening pitch that is somehow both unassuming and supremely confident. You glance at him, then back to the guns, and betray yourself when your tongue darts out to lick your lips. “What do you mean?”

Instead of answering you, he reaches across your personal space and runs one leather-bound finger along the stock of something that’s too short to be a rifle and too long to be a blaster. “I used this one to squeeze a quarry out of some cave he tried to hole up in on Galor Six. Once he saw what it could do to the rocks he thought were giving him cover…” Mando’s armored thigh brushes just below the curve of your ass before he pulls his arm back.

His bulk fills up the right side of your vision, but you keep your eyes locked on the guns.

He reaches for another weapon, this time a long rifle mounted vertically along the side. As he does, his other hand slides up your spine and comes to rest at the back of your neck. “I kept this one from a quarry, who thought they could get the drop on me first.” His fingers grip firmly, turning your head slightly more squarely toward the weapon in question.

Your body thrums like he’s just pushed the magic button. In truth, he has, and he knows he has. Submissive-mode initiated.

“Actually at first, they did,” he admits evenly. And that’s one of the things you love about him too, his absolute lack of arrogance, like he knows his own measure precisely. Easy to put your trust fully into a man like that. “I had no idea a quarry like that one could have a weapon with such range. Didn’t save them, though. I survived that mistake, and now this one right here,” he pats the rifle like a favored dog, “helps me make sure others don’t.”

He is boasting a little, isn’t he. Which isn’t like him. Your skin prickles as you realize he has to be doing it for your benefit, because he’s guessed why you stare at his arsenal the way you do.

He pulls you a little closer with that hand behind your neck, and leans his visor in. His voice drops low. “Which one is your favorite.”

His collection is extensive. It includes a number of rare pieces you’d even love to get your hands on for yourself. But there’s no denying which one thrills you the most, the one that makes your heart pound with a strange intensity when you look at it too long. His augmented blaster is a simple thing, really, a classic design you could see anywhere in the Outer Rim, save for a few modifications that are his own personal touches. Save for the fact that it’s his. Your gaze lands on the weapon that usually sits at Mando’s hip whenever he goes out, the sidearm you’ve seen strike terror into quarry after quarry, pressed to a temple or held unwavering between two wide eyes.

Your hand goes up, fingers stretching tentatively toward where it hangs.

Mando’s grunt sounds satisfied, and more than a little amused. He slaps your hand away with an air of lazy command and lifts it up himself. “Good choice,” he hums. “This is my favorite, too.” His voice stays low, like you’re sharing a secret. He puts a little pressure on your neck, turning you closer to facing him as he holds it up for you to admire. The barrel is elegant, tapered, perfectly counterbalancing the boxy chamber in front of his grip. He tilts his head, so close now to your face. “Does it make you feel something, to see this gun in my hand?”

It’s like your stomach opens up and bottoms out in your cunt. Sinking, primal fear meets aching, overriding arousal, that’s what the sight of a deadly weapon wrapped in the Mandalorian’s competent fingers does to you. But you aren’t about to tell it to him like that. You nod, dreamily, and lick your slack, parted lips. Sub-mode tends to make it harder to talk.

He waves the blaster slowly to the left, and then the right. You realize a bit late that he’s watching how your eyes track the weapon. You probably look like an idiot, like every spineless quarry he’s ever had. The thumb at your neck slides tenderly up and down. Then he presses the cool metal of the blaster along the side of your face.

You break out into shivers. Mando holds you steady, allowing you to crumple a little toward him, to clutch at his bicep just beneath his pauldron.

“Is this something that you like?” The question is almost a whisper, but there’s a curl of pleasure behind it. Whatever he thinks you might be into, he thinks he’s into it too.

“Mhmm,” your voice breaks on a little wail of an affirmative noise.

“You wanna play like this?” There’s more strength in his voice now. He slides that barrel down in front of your ear, curling it around under your jaw. “Want to feel what it’s like to be at the other end of the blaster? Have all your options taken away?”

You’ve done scenes with him almost this intense before, but wow, this is just taking it to a whole different level. You have your safewords in place. You know how to stop him if it gets to be too much. Because there’s roleplay, and then there’s a live weapon being pointed at your face, and one of those is definitely more real. But this surging feeling that’s almost making you feel lightheaded… you definitely want more of this. “Yes, Sir,” you force your mouth to say. Consent has to be clear or he won’t press on, you’ve learned that about him already.

“Then strip.”

He keeps the pressure of that long-barreled blaster tight under your chin as you struggle as quick as you can out of your clothes.

Mando reaches out with jerky movements of his other hand to expedite the process, pulling at your sleeves, playing the impatient thug to a T. “Let me see what you’ve been hiding from me under there.”

Your body feels hot and cold at the same time once all your skin is exposed under the yellowish glow emanating from the weapons rack. Your pussy is already swollen and aching with need; this was something you weren’t sure you were ever going to work up the nerve to ask him for and yet here he is, clocking you for a freak with a gun kink after barely a glance at what you were doing down here.

His helmet inclines, looking you up and down. “That was too easy, you little slut.” The cold barrel twists against your throat as he changes grips, bringing his own body closer. “What else are you going to let me do to you?” The blaster digs into the bottom of your jaw. “Hold still, and be extremely quiet. It’ll be like, a little slut test. I’m going to play with you for a while, and I don’t want to hear a single moan. Not. One. Peep.”

You squeeze your mouth shut, gritting your teeth to remind yourself because you already want to make sounds for him. He palms one of your breasts, a scooping squeeze that tapers down to a long tug at your nipple just how he knows you like it. You swallow back an encouraging moan, then resort to holding your breath as he repeats the motion a few more times, rolling your beaded nipple faster and faster. When he gives the same to the other side, tugging a little bit harder, you reach up out of habit to steady yourself against his solid torso.

“Hands to yourself,” he snarls. Then he’s crowding you, pushing you with one hand on your breastbone and that blaster cutting into your neck until you back up into the closed door of his bunk behind you. “Palms on the wall,” he instructs, and you spread your fingers across more cold metal as he returns his attention to your chest.

After tugging at your nipples a few more times, he actually slaps your tit. The first strike is experimental, but he sees the breath rush out of you as hot arousal swirls up in the wake of that surprise. Three more strikes come rapidly, and you try to flinch without making that tight flinching noise, the one that your throat is begging you to let loose.

“Do you like that, dirty girl?” The gun is pressing under your ear now as he swats over your breast again, the strike on your nipple making it tingle afresh. The next swat is followed by a firm tweak to the abused flesh. “Answer me.”

A moan breaks out of your mouth, plaintive and distinctively in the affirmative.

The next slap burns your cheek. “I told you to stay quiet. You just lost.”

But what do you lose? The blaster pulls back, trained now between your eyes, the barrel remaining surprisingly steady as hooks his pinky into the base of his other glove to pull it off. Your eyes rush immediately to the ceiling, trained so very well by now to never try and get a look at the Mandalorian’s skin.

You won’t hear his glove fall to the deck. Mando always tucks his gloves in close at his belt, so he can get them back on as soon as he wants his hands anywhere in front of your face again. But when he needs to get between your legs, oh, he absolutely wants his gloves off for that.

His fingers are so much harsher than usual. He’s really not pulling any punches in this game; but by now he’s certainly gathered a good sense for how much abuse you can tolerate. And this looks like another one of those nights he’s going to stretch your limits. He swipes between your folds, pressing up into your cunt with no preamble. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he comments roughly, twisting his fingers inside your opening so you can feel how easy it is. “I guess sluts just love to be treated like this.” He presses the blaster into your cheek, just as two fingers are pressing their way up inside you. You arch back against the wall for balance. “Is it this?” He wiggles the barrel against your cheekbone. “Is this what’s turned you into such a sloppy mess?”

He starts to slide the gun down the front of your body, making your belly tingle and freeze even as your breasts are still prickling hot from the way he was hitting them.

“Answer me.”

Fuck. He slapped you in the face for speaking last time. Is the silence rule still in effect? For some reason Mando seems to particularly relish putting you in this kind of double bind. His thumb is circling your clit so firm and slow, the press of the blaster is making you pull your bellybutton toward your spine, and he’s waiting, waiting for you to respond. “Yes.”

He curls his fingers out of you and then spanks your clit. One quick, precise reprimand. Your legs try to close reflexively but his armor-plated thigh is in the way. “Yes, what.” He shoves your legs open wider. “Tell me exactly what’s turning you on so badly right now.”

“You, Sir,” you try.

He spanks your clit again, sending electric shivers through your whole body. “Try again.”

Of course he’s going to make you say it. He always wants you to say it, just how kinky you really are. “You and your fucking blaster, Sir.”

Mando leans in, pressing the cold metal further down your body. “My fucking blaster?” he repeats. “Now there’s an idea.”

He crowds you into the wall, helmet angled down so he can watch what he’s doing to you. Meanwhile, you can’t do the same, since his glove is off. You fix your eyes obediently on the ceiling while your attention goes internal. You feel that cold, solid barrel sinking across your belly, then it’s twisting to push your thighs further apart.

“You like it so much, I want you to ride it.”

Stars, he’s going to be the death of you. You feel yourself getting wetter at the suggestion alone. But when the solid metal presses against your clit, so unyielding, squared edges and all, you can’t stop yourself from trying to recoil.

“Uh uh,” Mando chides, gripping your hip to hold you in place. “You got yourself into this, there’s no trying to wriggle out of it now.”

It just feels so wrong. He rocks that barrel over your most sensitive bits and it’s cold and strange and he’s got you panting. You press your palms against the bulkhead and try to keep yourself still and open for him, and yes you did ask for this you suppose, but it’s humiliating and you weren’t sure he would go this far and oh fuck is he trying to stick it inside you??

Cool beskar slides against your cheek. With your eyes squeezed shut you didn’t realize his head was so close. His voice rumbles low through the vocoder: “I want it to smell like you.” The barrel twists in your entrance, but thankfully he doesn’t try to force it very far. “Come on now, dirty girl, ride it for me.”

You whimper and start to move your hips. It’s not much, you’re too afraid of what more vigorous movements might do, but surely Mando understands that, surely he appreciates that you’re trying for him, pushing through your hesitation as you rub yourself deeper onto the end of his gun.

He groans at the sight of your compliance, a deep, raw sound that sounds like some kind of control in him is snapping. Adrenaline shocks through you at that sound, because you’re so vulnerable right now, and he could so easily hurt you if he forgets himself…

Mando removes the gun with another growl, grabbing at your shoulder and spinning you around with a force that leaves you breathless. He slams your chest into the wall like you’re nothing and then the blaster is pressing into your temple.

“Arch your back.”

You press your bottom out as far as you can, presenting yourself to him like an animal, excited for what you think is coming next. Mando’s body crowds your hips, his hand running greedily over your ass, swiping up your drenched cunt.

“I’m thinking about fucking you right now. But, there’s one more thing—” his voice is tight and he actually trips over his words, “—one more thing you never let me do.” The blaster presses heavier into the side of your face. His finger keeps sliding up your slit, past your entrance. “But now that I’ve got you completely helpless like this…” You tense as he rocks that fingertip against your other, tighter hole.

It’s not that you hadn’t talked about this before. You’re curious, intrigued even, but you haven’t yet figured out how to relax certain muscles and earlier attempts at anal sex have proved unsuccessful. The deal between you and Mando so far as been that you’re willing to try, and that he’s allowed to start working you up to it, when the moment seems right. He must have judged you to be so hot and bothered right now that maybe it would finally work.

The pressure does feel good, the tingling strangeness of being touched right there playing perfectly into the adrenaline-laced haze he’s already got you in. The gun at your head makes you feel so vulnerable, so open and helpless that your body might as well not resist anything anymore. The touch of his finger swirling at your asshole is so dirty. “You going to let me in here?”

It’s so reassuring, the way he makes sure you’re still giving consent, without quite breaking the mood of the scene, either. You nod, though when you try to accompany it with a vocalized “uh huh” the sound comes out more like an embarrassed little wail.

“You can be ashamed,” Mando croons, answering your tone. “You know you’re a dirty girl, letting me do such dirty things.” He slides the blaster along your cheek. “Not that you really have a choice.” Somehow being reminded that a slip of his trigger finger would blow your head off just makes your arousal spin out wildly.  “You’re just a thing to be used right now.” The pressure against your anus is deepening, starting to stretch you.

“You think you don’t deserve this?” he says the first time you flinch. “You did this to yourself. Things like this always happen to pretty little creatures like you. Ones the sneak around on ships, and poke around in places they don’t belong. You just had to get a look at my guns. Now look where it got you.” He pulls back a little, just to push back in again, making you realize how far your body has already allowed him in. “Now you’re gonna give it all up to me. Even this last bit of resistance. Every part of you is mine to use, and you’re going to take it.” His finger pushes in deeper, stabbing a little to punctuate his words. “Every. Last. Bit.”

And you try to follow that command. You really do. Helpless noises start to spill out of your mouth. How could they not when that dirty, secret stretch starts to burn, when the dark pleasure of one finger up your butt turns to the thought-blurring invasion of two, or maybe three, it’s hard to keep track when he’s hurting you like this. Fuck, you want to be good, you want to give this man everything you have, but it kriffing hurts.

Your safeword explodes past your lips, and the Mandalorian’s fingers instantly still. “I’m going to take my fingers out slow,” he says, voice clear and soothing, without a hint of reproach. “You did so good.”

“I’m sorry,” you can’t help but say, sighing in relief as the pressure abates, though you’re a little bit sad to feel him go, and disappointed in yourself for failing again.

“I’m proud of you,” he counters. “You did so good for me.” He stays close, doesn’t move anything but the bare hand that’s now soothing little circles over your bum. “Do we need to stop everything, or was it just too much in your ass?”

You take a minute to assess yourself. You’re shaking now, feeling pretty blown-out after hitting that limit, but the arousal’s not gone. “Don’t stop. I’ll go crazy if you don’t fuck me right now.” You arch your back deep with your forearms against the wall, proving your eagerness.

His answering chuckle creates a weird static in the vocoder. “I think I would, too. The way you tried so hard for me, you precious thing.” He pushes his hips against you, letting you feel what you’ve done to him. “Made me so hard I almost blew out these pants.”

“Then fuck, what are you waiting for.”

He wipes his fingers on a sanitizer, then his belt clatters to the floor. “Maybe, for you to shut the fuck up.” His tone is a little wry and a little scary, signaling the transition back into the scene. “While I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he presses the barrel of his blaster tighter against your cheek, “I don’t like that tone.” His bare hand collides with your ass. “You want to fucking try that again, slut?”

You shiver in appreciation, feeling yourself fall back into the headspace you’d been enjoying since he caught you down here, now that the necessary check-in is done. “Mm… please?”

He spanks you again, hard and sharp, not worrying about warming you up in the slightest. “You can do better than that.”

“Please, please fuck me.”

Another swat. “Beg for it. I’ve got a gun to your head, I can do whatever I want, but I still want you to beg. Beg for my cock. Beg me to hurt you.”

Fuck. As if you haven’t been through enough. “I need it,” you try. “Need your big cock inside me, so fucking bad.”

“Yes you do.” He slaps your ass one more time and then you feel him fumbling with his pants. Fucking finally. “And now that I know how much pain you can take, I’m going to fuck you how I really want. Cuz I think that’s what you want too, dirty little slut, sneaking down here to steal a look at my own, private, weapon collection; you want to get punished with this cock.”

“Fuck, yes,” you plead as he grabs your hip, lining you up, as you feel the girth of him pressing against your delicate bits, “I’ve been bad and I need to be put in my place.”

“Oh, you will be,” he promises, and then he’s driving himself into you, the sudden stretch making your eyes roll up in your head. Sometimes you tell yourself you’re used to Mando’s endowment, but it’s all lies. No one could ever be used to this, the solid plunge of something too wide to ever be comfortable, especially when he sinks it in so hard and so fast that you feel the pressure all the way up till it forces your tongue out of your mouth.

He pounds away at you, wickedly deep just as promised. It doesn’t matter how worked up he gets you, the stretch is always overwhelming, adding a spice to the pleasure that’s so tantalizing that you think you’ve probably become addicted to it. You realize it’s probably foolish of you two to think that he will ever fit this massive thing in your ass, especially not for him to fuck how he wants, wild and deep like this, but stars, is that thought hot anyway.

You brace yourself against the wall with both your forearms and try to remain conscious under the onslaught. “Arch your back,” Mando barks, pushing at your hips, catching you halfway recoiling, trying to hold the deepest part of you back. His boot taps at your ankle. “Feet wider.”

Fucker really is using this scene to get everything his way. The blaster follows your head as you sink into the required position, letting him reach the very end of you. His fat head is bumping against things that are less than comfortable, but you lay your cheek against the wall and just take it for him. Now your gaze is drifting over the rest of his weapon collection; he’s fucking you mercilessly right in front of it. Reminding you how you got yourself into this. And that he really is gonna try to give you everything you want. As strange or as dark as it turns out to be.

You’re almost surprised when he comes inside you, stuttering and grunting and wringing you over himself until the last tiny bit of his pleasure is satisfied. Often he likes to paint your body with the evidence of his conquest. But it’s so nice to hold him all the way through the end. Maybe he did that for you, too.

The blaster goes back in its holster before Mando begins to pull out. He’s large even when he’s deflating and it’s an interesting sensory experience for both of you every time he goes to dislodge himself after the deed is done. You’re both breathing heavy. Mando’s arm goes around your middle like all he wants to do is cuddle you right here, armor and all, leaning against the wall. “So good,” his modulated voice murmurs between panting breaths, his helmet pressed into your back. “You did so good for me.”

“And I feel like you did all that for me,” you answer softly. “Thank you.”

A deep sound rumbles over the vocoder. “All for you? I was the only one that came, so that can’t be right.” He starts peeling you off the wall. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

There’s an edge to his tone that makes you think maybe the sexy times might not quite be finished. The Mandalorian’s never been a man to leave a job half done, after all.

He reaches past you to open the door he’s been fucking you up against. His bunk has become more cozy than when you first saw it; there’s a real mattress on the frame now, and pillows and blankets. More things he’s done just for you. With gentle hands he ushers your naked body forward to get in his bed. “Get comfortable. I’ll be right behind you.”

You pull a warm blanket most of the way over you as you lie on your back. Now that the adrenaline-laced scene is done, your abused body is starting to shiver. But you don’t settle in completely, still pretty sure that it’s not quite time to pass out yet.

When you look back up at the Mandalorian, standing at the foot of the bed, your breath catches.  He’s removing most of his armor plates, hanging each one carefully on the walls on either side of this tiny little room. Your face starts to tingle. This is a rarity in the time that you have known him. He only ever removes what he absolutely has to in your presence.

But those times he’s held you in his arms, he has to have felt you seeking more contact, your roving hands finding out all the little places where you can touch something besides durasteel and beskar. Perhaps he’s about to give you something else he thinks you need, too.

He’s still not showing any skin when he climbs into the cot beside you. But there’s only one little layer between your bodies when he nestles in alongside you, and you can feel his heat, and the springy cushion of his muscles as he draws you to rest your back against his chest. His arms wrap tight around you, pulling you in so close that you can feel him breath. Stars, you can even detect his heartbeat.

It’s a solace you hadn’t even dared to let yourself crave, to be wrapped in the softened reality of this man. Even dreamier when it comes as a reward, after letting him work you over so good outside this little room. You feel your body rhythms entraining to his and try to think about nothing else at all.

You almost forget the idea that he might yet make you come, now that you’re actually here, drifting in the sanctuary of his arms. Then Mando wraps his cloak over both of you, and you feel him removing his gloves.

He worships your body with his palms, especially those places that he was particularly cruel to before. He coaxes your nipples soft and sweet, and caresses your ass like it’s a work of art. You’re totally relaxed, completely comfortable, and surrounded by his smells here in his bunk: metallic, earthy, and some unidentifiable musk that must be a hint of the man that lies beneath it all. You wonder if the sheets you lie on shelter his naked flesh when you’re not around. You wonder… you’re starting to wonder too much. Just enjoy it. Relax in the intimacy he’s willing to give, the privilege that it is that he would be willing to take off his armor for you, even if he can’t show you his skin.

Strong hands pull your top leg up, resting it against his own hips so that his fingers have room to run through your treasures between. “I love your pussy,” Mando says, opening you, coaxing you to bloom with the confidence that comes of repeated experience. You two have been doing this for a while now. Long enough to earn this next level of trust, it seems.

He works you just how you like it, as you arch and sigh against him, reaching back to hold his neck, your fingers barely contacting the base of his head just under his helmet. It’s not long before he’s got your leg twitching and your blood singing. No teasing now, no withholding, just pure, deserved satisfaction.

“Come for me,” he urges, “let me hear how happy I make you.”

And fuck, that does it right there, the loving tone in the same voice that knows how to degrade you when you want it that way, and the baring of some glimpse that you mean more to him than a series of mind-blowing fucks. It pushes you right over the edge into a wailing orgasm that stretches on and on under the expert coaxing of the Mandalorian’s fingers.

The pleasure suffuses you, makes you feel light as a feather, yet unable to move, safe in the circle of his arms. Stars, you can feel him breathing. You never want this moment to end. You realize you’re half-asleep when Mando’s cock rubs up against your behind. “I have to have you again,” he rumbles, his arms clutching at your slackening body. “You don’t have to move, can I…?”

Dreamily, you spit into your fingers and make sure your cunt is ready to take just a little more abuse. Then you present your hips to him.

His exhale is long and grateful as he sinks home one more time. “You’re just—” he whispers behind you, thrusting in lazy and long, “so… perfect.” His strokes send wave after wave of warmth through your body, somehow still relaxing, somehow just letting every last thing in you unwind.

He doesn’t move when he’s done. For once, neither of you say anything self-conscious, or flippant, no jokes meant to create distance or push the intimacy away. He stays, and you stay, and your limbs are all tangled together when you both fall asleep.

More Mando Smut

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#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #dom!Mando #mando smut

[remember-to-be-gentle]

I’ve been working on this piece for over a MONTH and it still needs work, but I’m tired of keeping this to myself, so here it is. 

Subject: BNHA, Tamaki Amajiki + Dabi

Title: Hungry Hero, Vicious Villain (NSFW, pro hero!fem reader)

TW: Non Con, Penis/Balls expansion, bisexual?, Coercion, Implied Kidnapping, I genuinely don’t know what else I should tag this

This couldn't be happening. It was supposed to be an easy raid on a potential hideout for the League of Villains. You and your finance, Tamaki, had gone in together and things had quickly gone South when you were captured. Arms pinned above your head and a knife to your throat, you heard Dabi say, "Wait, are you actually getting hard right now?" 

Tamaki's face burned red, his ears slouching and shoulders scrunching. "I'm sorry." You stared in disbelief at the bulge in his costume. 

The two of you had refrained from sex until the wedding and conversation about kinks hadn't come up naturally, but could sweet and shy Tamaki really be into something like this? 

Dabi laughed in disbelief. "Hey, Suneater, you're a virgin, aren't you." It wasn't a question. Tamaki nodded. The laughter that came from Dabi's throat was dark, malicious. "A hero who hasn't even gotten his dick wet. Well, since your raid of our hideout failed, why don't I do you a favor?" 

A dark feeling settled in your stomach. 

He leaned into your ear, "If you so much as twitch I'll burn you to a crisp." His hands made their way down your costume, yanking open the buttons and zippers, exposing your breasts. Tamaki couldn't take his eyes off them. One of Dabi's burning hands wrapped around your breast, carefully groping and massaging the skin until your nipple hardened. Tamaki looked like he was going to drool. "You haven't so much as seen these yet, have you? Your girl has nice tits, you're going to like playing with these." 

Tamaki didn't respond, his breathing heavy and hands twitching at his sides. The bulge was getting bigger. 

Dabi continued to pull your costume off of you, he could kill you at any moment and Tamaki was completely entranced by what he was doing to you. Was he so sex-starved that watching a villain rape you could be satisfying? 

Dabi ripped off the bottom of your costume, leaving you completely nude, yanking your legs up and apart. "You see her pussy? It's real pink, isn’t it?”

Tamaki’s eyes went wide, focusing on your exposed hole. You wanted to squirm, escape Dabi’s hands grasp, and reclaim some sense of dignity, but if you did, you’d die. 

“If you want to enjoy it to the fullest, we need to make it drool.” Dabi’s voice settled into a growl. Behind you, you could feel his dick getting hard, excited but not nearly as much as Tamaki was. “Do you want a little taste of your wife-to-be?" 

Tamaki nodded. 

"Why don't you give it a taste then, eating hero." 

"I shouldn't..." He was giving you a pathetic look, the one where he pouted when baristas forgot sugar in his coffee and he didn't have the confidence to ask for a remake. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed. He wanted to. 

"If you don't, I'll burn her breasts off." 

That spurred him forward. Tamaki gave you an apologetic look, but you could see him licking his lips, eager for a taste. This needed to end. "Stop this," your voice was far smaller than you’d like, "please, there's no need for any of this." 

Dabi hushed you. "Watch him," he hissed. “If you look away for even a moment, I’ll burn you.”  

Tamaki looked overwhelmed between your legs, staring at your clit and slit as if it were a food he wasn't sure how to eat.

"Instruct him," Dabi murmured in your ear. “You know what happens if you don’t.” 

Damn it. How had a simple raid ended up like this? "Suneater," you said, careful to use his codename, "use your tongue. There's a pink nub toward the top, just start with that." You’d had a few minor sexual experiences before, fingers and humping from old partners along with your own dildo, but nothing this direct. You were almost as much in the dark as Tamaki. 

“Pink... nub...” His face vanished between your thighs and then you felt it: hot tongue on your clit. It took everything not to cry out, sharp tingling tightening your muscles. Dabi laughed when he felt you tense, but didn’t say anything. “That one?” Tamaki's voice shook, whether with excitement, nervousness, or a combination of the two, you couldn't tell. 

Damn it, why was he asking? “Y-Yes.” Where you’d been able to hold back your reactions, the facade was fading fast now that he was actually touching you. Your face burned and fingers clenched into fists uselessly at your sides.

That tingling came again, longer in its duration, as Tamaki licked you slowly. He lapped at you experimentally, gauging your reaction to his tongue each time. Sometimes a little harder. Sometimes just barely gliding over your sensitive bud, testing how each stroke of his tongue made you squirm. And then he bit down you. You couldn’t hold your voice back anymore, nearly screaming at the sensation of his teeth rolling across your sensitive clit. “Tamaki! Stop! I—.” 

Dabi hissed at you into silence. “Suneater, why don’t you play with these a little?” He bucked at you from behind, sending your entrance into Tamaki’s face and making your breasts bounce. “You can use your mouth on these, too.”

Begrudgingly, Tamaki dismounted his face from your entrance. He reached for your breasts, hesitancy making his fingers curl. 

“Flick her nipple. Do it before I get bored.”

Tamaki obeyed. His finger shot out, hitting your nipple with enough force to make the entire breast jiggle. He shuddered. Those hesitant hands grabbed your breasts, roughly squeezing and groping them. He brought himself closer, the huffs of his panting breath loud and needy. 

Dabi pushed you forward, making your crotch connect with Tamaki’s. He cried out, eyes wide. Something hot and wet spread between you two. You realized with a terrible soberness that Tamaki had just creamed his costume. He groaned, rubbing his hyper-sensitive cock against you, using your breasts to keep him grounded. “I...” He swallowed. “I want to be inside.” 

Inside? You looked down at his crotch where he was still heavily erect under the tent in his pants. 

“Then take it out, hero, show your precious fiancee your filthy hero cock.” 

“It's not... filthy...” he muttered, unzipping his crotch so his erection could spring free. 

Dabi whistled. You stared. It was enormous, slick with the load he’d exploded in his pants. You’d seen Tamaki naked before, it was a hazard of sharing a changing room at your agency and spending so much time together. You could say with certainty that you’d never seen Tamaki that big. His balls hadn’t been that big, either. They looked swollen with unused cum. 

“So it's true,” Dabi laughed, “you do have to have huge balls to be a hero.” He got on his knees, spreading you out on the floor. “Go ahead. Use her pussy until it becomes your cumdump. She deserves it for keeping you waiting, doesn’t she? And even if you don’t want to, I’d burn her to nothing if you don’t.” 

“It's too big!” You shouted. Dabi pushed you down into the ground, his grip bruising. 

Tamaki looked away, pulling his hood over his face. “I’m sorry... It's a side effect of my quirk. Anything I don’t use has to go somewhere...”

Dabi licked his lips. “I knew playing with you two was a good idea. I wonder how big we can get that dick, probably big enough to tear you apart. Fuck, now I’m wishing we’d gotten here sooner. Whatever, stick it in, Suneater.” 

“But you said... it should be drooling...” 

“Close enough. We’ll get it there next time.” Next time? Before could you think more on what he meant, Dabi pushed his fingers inside you. They spread you wide and you squealed, feeling his fingers play with the slick that had built up. A slimy smile spread across his face. “This should be fine.” Slowly, Dabi set you on the ground, keeping your legs spread open, “Go on, hero, put it inside.” 

Tamaki didn’t wait for Dabi to finish speaking, shoving his cock inside you. You cried out, feeling his swollen dick spread you out completely, nearly creating a bulge in your stomach. You grabbed his costume, unable to feel anything except his length inside you, twitching with anticipation, filling you to the brim. Tamaki moaned, clenching his teeth at your tightness. 

“You’ve been waiting for that, haven’t you?” Dabi purred, “I bet you fantasized about it every time she so much as bent over. Every time you were home alone with her sleeping form and you knew it would have been so easy to use that plush little mouth to get you off.” 

Tamaki shuddered, making a pitiful little noise in the back of his throat. He had. 

“Tamaki—.”

“Keep that pretty mouth of yours shut. The only thing I want to hear out of you is how much you love your fiance’s cock.” Dabi growled. He grabbed Tamaki’s hood, forcing him down, “Now fuck her like you’ve always wanted. Like the wild fucking beast you are.”

And then he did. Tamaki pulled back and slammed back in, groaning as he did. It felt like lightning up your body, pooling in your fingers and toes with each twitch of his cock. Behind you, Dabi praised him, dribbling words of encouragement as if it were honey. Each word seemed to make Tamaki shiver and pump inside you more erratically. His pace left no room for long strokes, he’d found his spot and couldn’t stop rubbing it against the top of your pussy until ropes of his cum were coating your insides.

 But he didn't stop. He kept fucking you through his orgasm, slamming against your cervix and then you felt it. By accident, Tamaki's enormous cock had found your spot. The noise that erupted from your throat was impossible to contain, a strangled, breathless cry. He stopped, staring at you as you twitched around him. "What was that?" 

"You found it," Dabi answered, "that little spot will make her feel good, too. You can make her cum, too, if you hit it." 

"I can make her cum?" The excitement in Tamaki's voice sent a shiver of fear down your spine. He was going to do it, exploit your g-spot until the only thing you could think about was your next orgasm. 

"Can you find it again, Suneater?" Dabi pushed. 

Tamaki plunged back in, watching your face for the tell-tale sign that he'd found your spot. That massive cock of his slammed right into it, making your muscles tighten and voice cry out. An unhinged smile spread across his face and he did it again. "Does it feel good?" 

“Answer him.” Dabi hissed.

You nodded reluctantly, struggling to stop yourself from moaning aloud. 

For a second, Tamaki stopped pumping, his cheeks turning bright red, eyes looking away. He was building up his nerve. “Can you say it?” Tamaki pushed. “Say that you like it when I’m... inside...” 

“I...” Your voice on the edge of moaning. “I—I like it...” It was getting harder to control, the more he slammed inside of you and rubbed at your spot, the more your voice threatened to leak into moans. You couldn’t show that you really like it in front of Dabi, he could use that as leverage against you: blackmail. On the other hand, Tamaki seemed to have lost himself completely in pleasure. He looked like he was drooling on top of you, hot panting breaths and needy high groans. 

Dabi cursed. “Shit, I don’t have time to be waiting around, but...” You looked up at him, your vision blurry and unfocused. What was he planning now? “Hey, hero,” he hissed at Tamaki. “We’re taking this show on the road. Take your dick out, you’ll finish up later.” 

What? 

“What?” Tamaki blinked slowly, his wild thrusts coming to a slow stop.

Dabi reached out a scarred hand, brushing his thumb across Tamaki’s cheek, “You two are coming with me.” 

#raven writes #bnha #suneater x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #dabi x reader #tamaki amajiki #suneater #dabi #x reader #tw non con #tw #penis expansion #tw balls expansion #i will recylce this trope every time i use tamaki #tw coercion #let me know what other trigger warnings i need on this #tw kidnapping

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 89: The Third Task

Sirius once again found himself floundering in water. At least this time as he got himself onto hands and knees the water ended there, but his skin was tingling all over even as his eyes glanced around.

It was dusk, only the faint hint of light kissed the horizon and even that was going fast, giving him the glimpse of large hedges surrounding him on both sides, one way forward and back, both of which seemed completely dry to his indignation. He just simply seemed to find himself in a ditch, or puddle...that was still making his skin tingle more every second- in the maze!

He made a guttural noise that was in no way a scream as he tried to leap to his feet and get to dry ground, when he stopped at the sound of what was undeniably a scream behind him.

His skin now felt like he was fizzing all over, only his feet remained in and it was making him jittery, right on the edge of pain. Alice Smith though had the brilliant idea to try and climb right onto the hedge, and she was now white-knuckling the foliage, completely free of the water, and screaming.

He instantly lunged back towards her, unsure of what he could even do to help, but as the buzzing along his skin soothed the farther back into the water he went, his gut took over and caught her around the waist, dragging her back in forcefully.

She caught her breath in relief the moment her rump splashed back into the water, and he gave one of his own.

"Well hi there," he said cheerfully to her dazed expression. She was running her hands up and down her arms, Sirius understood the feeling, his were still tingling slightly, but he had no desire to lie down flat back in the water even to alleviate the feeling. "Fancy meeting you here," he finished with a Cheshire grin that made many a girl's hearts melt. She could probably do with the distraction for the time being.

Alice finally dragged her eyes up to see Sirius Black grinning down at her, every bit the prodigal hero he thought himself, and honestly was to her. She'd been locked in pain and terrified to let go even if she could have. She couldn't help it, she smiled back. "Thanks," she breathed.

"You're quite welcome!" He said with zero traces of humbleness, it was almost impressive. It almost reminded her of Lockhart in a way, the notable exception being she knew he was much deadlier with his wand. His expression started to falter though as she kept watching him, and he turned his face back to examining the area again, as did she.

The first thing they both noticed was, there were no sounds of approach. It made both of them even more uneasy than their watered entrapment. Both of them knew the dimensions of the Quidditch Pitch this was supposedly taking place in, so their companions most certainly should have heard her screams of pain, but there was no sound echoing back.

"Frank? Lily!" She called, already knowing it to be in vain.

There was no returning answer, except from Sirius Black again, who was eyeing the water with distaste, his fingers each tapping against his thumb in a pattern of agitation. "Do me a favor and don't scream again," he said abruptly, before he almost vanished into the night. She held back a scream by just the tip of her tongue as instead her eyes had to struggle for several moments to see she wasn't suddenly alone though, but a great black dog stood before her.

The last two times she'd seen the ferocious beast, it had been getting ripped up by a werewolf while he held it down, and cowering away from fire-breathing dragons. Neither happy memories to be sure, and this wasn't likely to make the list either. It only seemed slightly smaller now in comparison, and even then the great black dog blended so well with the shadows of the hedges she could only just make out the glimmer of teeth and eyes in the bright moonlight.

Then her blood chilled caused by no magic, as she looked up at the sky once more, and saw why he may have taken this particular precaution. It was a full moon.

Padfoot took a few experimental steps away from her, she wanted to cry out for him not to leave her and just barely held that in as well, as he took one paw out of the water and onto the dry grass beyond.

His sharp yelp of protest sounded louder than a blasting hex as he staggered back into the water, and suddenly Sirius stood before her once more, shaking his head in the exact same way as the wounded dog from moments ago.

"Well that bloody didn't work," he said sourly as he walked back towards her, and sunk into the water to sit cross legged beside her with a visible pout. "Some enchantments don't work as well when we're Animagus' but we've only just started experimenting with which ones, and I haven't even a clue what we're stuck in, do you?"

Alice wasn't even sure she could get herself to answer now she'd kept her throat so jammed quiet, but finally after several deep breaths she managed in a whisper, "should we be talking? What if, I mean your -well the werewolf-"

She couldn't figure out how to phrase the question politely, what if the bloodthirsty monster found them while they chatted.

Black's whole demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. His face tightened, and she was given the chilling look she'd seen him directing at Frank several times. "It's not a full moon, relax. The big bad Moony won't come out to play tonight."

She looked frantically from him, to the seemingly full moon to her, and back several times, but he didn't seem up to elaborating. Taking one more deep, painful breath, she forced herself to believe he must have better knowledge of this than her, so nodded slowly and instead answered at normal volume, "nope, have no idea what we're stuck in. Not meant to for several years I suppose," as if any of them had forgotten Harry was stuck in this tournament several years too young.

He watched her now like she'd just started babbling away in mermish. "You, believe me?"

She couldn't help but laugh, just a bit, at the genuinely surprised look on his face, coupled with some residual relief her fear had immediately been abolished. "You seem to be an expert on the subject," she pointed out. "How can you tell anyways?"

He tipped his head to the side in an almost bird like way as he studied her, his long dark hair falling across those bright gray eyes. It wasn't hard to see why most of the girls at school swooned over him. She however still saw the quiet, calculating look of someone who'd lived through far too much in a short amount of time, the same look they'd all been carrying for...days? Weeks now? Time was so nonlinear during this mess.

He answered, to her surprise, in a politely cordial way, almost scholarly, like Remus had back when she'd managed to talk to him around all those Quidditch tents.

"Takes practice, but you can see the glimpse of it waining if you study its edges. You're not entirely wrong, it's barely a day old, Moony's probably dead on his feet," he finished in a quiet voice that housed more worry in one name than she'd seen him display their entire time together.

There'd barely been time amongst the shock in the beginning of all this mess for him to show proper mourning for his best friend's future. During the entire third book's run, he'd been either cocky with assurance or worried for himself, until there at the end, where he'd just been downright murderous, and since then, just aloof to everyone. Now she saw the clear worry as he, like her, looked around once more for any signs of approach from the others.

The two never actually spoke to each other, though at least Regulus had a good excuse. Lily on the other hand just had questions she wasn't sure she even wanted to know the answer to from him. The two had landed only feet away from each other, and both took to their feet instantly and drew their wands, but not at each other. In mutual agreement, they just waited wearily, knowing exactly where they were and expecting the promised dangers any second.

Instead, Regulus moved first, cautiously crouching down and never letting his eyes rest in one place for a second as he dug the book out of the hedge's base. The two had landed where the maze split into three pathways, open in front of each of them, and the third being a dead end, where the book's cover was peaking out. Lily hadn't even seen it in the gloom. Shivering with distaste, he kept his back firmly pressed to the wall and began reading what they all knew, The Third Task.

Lily didn't even recognize the look that crossed his face several times while he read, but he kept his face low to read, so it was hard to make out his expression regardless as she kept careful watch.

It wasn't that he didn't trust the Muggleborn to forewarn him if something did head their way, she'd had plenty of reasons to turn on him in the past and yet hadn't, but he couldn't deny how vulnerable he felt, holding his wand aloft for light to read the print rather than having a spell on the tip of his tongue.

Only as he read through the first couple of paragraphs of the trio talking did it really occur to him, he was putting his trust in her. It hadn't even crossed his mind to turn away and forge this place on his own, but he stood here actually trusting her competency instead of visa versa. He wasn't sure if he had asked her to read instead how she'd have taken it, but he knew he wouldn't have just left her here unguarded, it didn't feel right to even think it. What was right and wrong anymore, he'd just have to keep coming up with himself, slowly.

For two people who had never actually directly spoken to each other during all this mess, Frank and Peter found themselves surprisingly enjoying the verbal sparring they were doing as they traversed the maze. The argument was simple in theory, but not so much for them given past experiences. Would Muggle technology work, if any of them actually had any? What with their little 'bubble' keeping them trapped from the school that blocked technology, neither seemed able to convince the other to his side even if they'd had proof.

Listening to Malfoy doing something bizarre and the trio talking about it may have broached the subject to the two, but it hadn't started so easygoing. They'd landed right next to the Triwizard Cup, a useless prize to the pair, and had merely stood in uneasy silence as each debated departing on their own to go find their friends. Rustling on just the other side of the hedge though, something far too large to be human judging by the jostling at the very top of the barricade, had both of them deciding it was possibly best to stay where they were. The maze was designed to attack someone going through it after all, and they'd both come to the silent conclusion if they didn't move, it wouldn't register them.

That particular theory though, was proved wrong, though neither of them knew it.

"Moony, come on mate, open your eyes."

Remus groaned miserably and twisted away from whatever was pulling on him. His eyes felt like heavy weights were wearing them down, he could feel the sleep crusting them together double as he even considered lifting them.

"Remus, please do not force me to set this whole ruddy place on fire just to get you moving, because you know I'll do it."

"Go away Prongs," he knew his voice slurred terribly, but the threat had to carry nonetheless, because James's voice quieted for a blessed moment. His mind was already lulling back into a peaceful dream, he was running just to run, even on an empty stomach, it felt good...

There was a soft rustle of leaves, as James apparently gave up for the moment and leaned back against a bush. He must have fallen asleep out under the tree, again. Hopefully they'd let him miss this next class...

Even this calm bit of dream was interrupted by a flaring irritation though, Sirius's kid brother's voice reading that blasted book, and nothing pleasant. Another Skeeter article all about how wrong in the head Harry was. Curled on his side and still burying his face in the soft grass wasn't comfortable persay, and a small part of him did want to check on Prongs, who could in no way be happy about this. He really should at least try to help him laugh it off, but oh, talking would eventually force him to sit up, and open his eyes, and even as the dream was slipping away he clung stubbornly to at least a half-conscious...

"Remu-!"

Adrenaline dumped into his system before he was even fully upright, his wand drawn and looking in all directions. James had done many a thing to get him awake, but never shouted like his life depended on it. His eyes took too long to adjust, despite how highly heightened they were, by the time he saw his friend, the hedges had already lashed him tightly in place and were dragging him backwards.

It was certainly no Devil's Snare, it wouldn't hold him until he moved no more, but Remus wasn't going to sit around and find out what it was going to do as he sent a blasting hex dangerously close to his friend.

His aim was true, the plant withered where he'd hit, but several more feelers were already creeping back out. He half lunged, half scrambled forward on numb limbs to grab James and haul him away, thankfully Prongs hadn't been so caught off guard that the fight had been knocked out of him. He thrashed wildly, almost hitting Remus in the face, the ingrate, but finally he was free. The two wasted no time finally getting to their feet and instantly breaking into a run.

They kept sprinting, Regulus's voice almost chasing them as a reminder of why they couldn't stop. By the time Remus began to slow, Mrs. Weasley and Bill had arrived, and when Dumbledore finally called the feast to a close, he stopped altogether, hands on his knees, and panted with exhaustion.

James quickly slowed his pace, barely winded, and hurried back to his side, patting him on the back and muttering whatever soft reassurances he could while keeping an eye on the ground. It hadn't moved to attack them again though, still he worried if they stayed in one place too long, it would happen again. He reached down and grabbed his arm gently, still politely coaxing, "I know Moony, you're exhausted, I'm so sorry mate. We really have to keep going though."

Remus nodded miserably and allowed himself to be towed a few more turns before the rest of his mind finally caught up to him, and he asked in concern, "we should have run into someone else by now," or something, lingered in the air between them.

James knew exactly what he meant and was very worried about the exact same thing. This maze had been described as being full of lethal traps, surely the hedges weren't the only thing in here after them.

Regulus at least sounded alright, with any luck everyone else had landed right beside each other and were having a gay old laugh, and the two of them had just been plopped a few feet away. Right, and Evans would declare her undying love for him next.

By the time Fleur, the last place contestant, was entering the maze, Remus was starting to sway dangerously as he kept with James's ever slowing pace, and Prongs caught his arm and slung it over his shoulder to keep him steady and moving. Despite the circumstances not exactly being in their favor, James cast a grateful eye to the moon once more. Better a day old than full, having to worry about Moony really finding someone in here on top of everything else going on wasn't a concern he needed right now.

James stopped so suddenly, that Remus's drooping eyes were forced to snap open even as his legs almost gave out on him from exhaustion. He didn't need to ask what was wrong now though, he could hear it just under Regulus's voice. Something large was approaching them, shuffling the hedges right on the other side, and there was a gap not twenty feet ahead. It could have been any number of things, but they'd barely had time to shuffle back a dozen feet with their own horrid ideas when a Blast-Ended Skrewt came scuttling out.

Half of Remus's mind found himself watching it with something akin to appreciation, certainly a hint of longing he'd never get another chance to see such a miraculous beast. The rest of his brain was yelling at him to shut up and keep moving before James left with only his arm and nothing else attached.

There was no sense in fighting it, both knew that without having to discuss a thing. It was as big as the largest acromantula they'd come across in the forest, and prior experience told them how useless it was sending any old spell at those things. So they simply kept running, as hard and fast as they could, adrenaline burning away everything except the fire that lit James's leg.

He cried and took a painful slide through the grass another three feet, smothering the worst of the flames. Even as he demanded his arms haul him back upright though, his leg wasn't having it. Remus unbelievably stayed on his feet, casting useless hexes and curses, but refusing to move another foot. James was about to use the very last of his energy to shout at the idiot to keep running regardless, when something went sailing over both of their heads.

For one delirious moment as it landed on all fours in front of them Remus thought it was Padfoot to the rescue, but the golden color was all wrong, and then the Sphinx let out a primal roar. It wasn't quite human or animal, but some terrifying combination of the two, and it froze their hearts in place as if they'd already accepted their death. She was not facing them though, likely all that saved them of a heart attack, but the skrewt, who came forward only a few more feet to lash its stinger in disapproval, before scuttling backwards for easier prey.

The sphinx sat down and began licking her paw before running it through her hair, only her still twitching tail giving away her true displeasure of the situation. Once she'd properly groomed herself back, she turned to them with an almost kind smile.

Remus's knees did give out then, and he sunk to the grass beside Prongs, hardly daring to hope at this rate Regulus would hurry up already and finish. If they couldn't answer whatever riddle the Sphinx was about to offer, they may as well have let the skrewt finish them off.

Regulus's voice was a blur to them, they vaguely heard Harry and Cedric finishing a fight against an acromantula, but their immediate concern was the Sphinx chanting her riddle at them. Neither had the oxygen left to answer even if they'd dared to figure it out, and were simply grateful when Harry and Cedric's bickering over the cup came to an end and they were teleported away.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #GoF #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Sirius Black #Alice Smith #Regulus Black #Remus Lupin #Peter Pettigrew #Frank Longbottom #Lily Evans

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 8

Welcome to the Hotel On-The-Floor, Yeah

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, the party identified the culprit behind the murders in Barley and Wheat, but... well, it's complicated. The culprit was apparently being coerced by a dragon, and they managed to talk him down rather than fight. If they want that to stick, though, they'll need some kind of plan to get rid of that dragon. And... is it really worth bailing this guy out, anyway?

Saelhen, Oyobi, and Vayen all start discussing their plans in Elvish, which it doesn't seem like Arnie understands. Oyobi advocates for just killing the guy, but is a little less keen on the idea once Vayen advocates for the same. Saelhen would rather give the guy a chance, and points out that there's not much point to killing him as long as the dragon is still around- they'll need an answer for that, and the answer to a dragon is probably just as good an answer to Arnie.

Looseleaf, oblivious to their Elvish chatter, describes the basic plan to Arnie.

Arnie: "So you're, what... you're gonna get the church involved somehow? What're you gonna tell 'em?" Looseleaf: "Well, probably also Deathseekers," Looseleaf thinks, out loud. "We'll tell them there's a dragon conducting sacrificial rituals at the site of an altar to the god of pain. We'll get the church involved by virtue of proving to them that there's a dragon fucking around with divine shit, and we'll get the deathseekers involved by convincing them that there's a dragon stacked to the gills with cool magic items, which we'll prove by bringing them one of said items." "The important thing is to get going as soon as possible, right? There's a time-limit here measured in, uh... human... corpses..." Arnie: "Wait, how are you gonna get one of its magic items?" Looseleaf: "How do you think, mister 'I work for the dragon so he gave me a bunch of magic items to serve his dread will'?" "We'll bring the deathseekers that magic cloak you said you had." Arnie: "Uh, that's..." "Mine, though."

Eventually, after a persuasion roll or two, Arnie agrees to loan them the cloak, as long as it comes back in one piece. He also tells them how to safely retrieve it from the laundry room- as long as they exchange some dirty laundry for the clean cloak, they'll be happy and won't attack. He's got plenty lying around downstairs, which he heads down to grab.

While he's downstairs, the party confers, and decides to all go together to the nearest city- Cauterdale- to ask the local Deathseekers for aid. They figure Arnie's not a flight risk, since he doesn't have anywhere to run and a draconic boss who'll hunt him down if he tries.

(As they prepare to leave, a natural 20 on a perception roll alerts Looseleaf that Vayen has ransacked Lumiere's personal library, stealing- specifically- Lumiere's books on gods and divine magic, for some reason. She doesn't make any objection to this, though- Vayen's a creep, but it's not like they weren't all on board with looting the dead guy's tower.)

With Arnie's bloodstained laundry in hand, Looseleaf heads upstairs and retrieves the cloak without incident. She tries it out, and...

The result of her crit failing her Wisdom saving throw on the magic item is... nothing, apparently. That's always good to hear! The cloak appears to work exactly as intended! She's wearing a very fancy outfit.

Further experimentation reveals a few limitations- first, the cloak's shape is illusory, so it can't become armor or anything with particular utility. Second, it can get overly literal if you ask it to copy an outfit outright- you have to use your imagination properly. Third, it seems to get tired the more you ask it to change, so there's some limit on how often you can update your wardrobe. Those appear to be the only drawbacks!

So, with Arnie temporarily kept from murdering people, the party gets back on the road.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: For caution's sake, Saelhen calligraphs a piece of paper to say WE HAVE NOT BEEN TORTURED TO DEATH, and sticks it on the door on the way out.

As they make their way northeast, they make some Animal Handling checks to keep hold of their giraffes, as something seems to spook them. Looseleaf gets a critical success and is able to calm her giraffe right away... but the party ranger, who is proficient in neither Animal Handling nor Nature nor even Survival, because what kind of monster hunter needs to know that boring crap, has no idea how to handle an overexcited giraffe and is thrown from her mount with a critical failure.

Benedict I. (GM):There's a small sign by the road, heading off west towards what appears to be an actual forest. The prairie is giving way to a somewhat hillier and more forested terrain here, but the forest is thicker than anything you've seen on your way there. And as you're approaching the crossroads marked by that sign, your giraffes all try to bolt for it. Looseleaf is able to realize that they've been forced to graze on grass for miles, and when they see the trees, they get overexcited. Vayen and Oyobi get completely thrown from their mounts, and you have to follow them down the road a bit to catch up with them and rein them in. Looseleaf: Haha, oh, well, hopefully they don't try and spend the rest of the whole day grazing a pit-stop is within tolerances but we really do have to make it to Cauterdale sooner rather than later. Many lives are on the line! Saelhen du Fishercrown: Good thing Looseleaf can radiate peace at them! Benedict I. (GM): Looseleaf is able to beckon them back before they completely get out of reach, and pretty soon you've got them calmed down- but you've lost some time. There's a choice to make here, now: continue on to Cauterdale, but make the last hour or so of the journey in the dark- or rest at the location marked on the map near here.

On the map, where the sign marked "Umbrella Village" points (shut up, I don't even play Resident Evil, don't worry about it), is simply a warning that reads "EVIL WITCHES- AVOID!!!"

Oyobi and Orluthe inform the others that "witches" usually means "druids"- and Zero cashes in something from character creation. Looseleaf's background as an academic provided her with a book on some historical topic, which was never allocated because at character creation he didn't know enough about the world to decide on something interesting. Here he declares it's a book on the history of druids!

Benedict I. (GM): Druids, from what you've read, are sort of like clerics. They channel a divinity of some sort- which is typically revered as Mother Nature, or Gaia, or... every druid you meet is going to have a different name for it, because while it needs to have a thing to call it by, it is emphatically not a god. Druids have a complicated relationship with Ccorde, who's ostensibly the goddess of environmentalism and hippy communing with nature type stuff- but most druidic traditions regard this as a false claim on a divine domain. Nature is untamed and wild and exists on its own terms, a vital force that is not to be tamed with rules- people must forge their own relationships with Nature. The author of the tome you acquired was herself a cleric of Ccorde, and the tone of the book is defensive on that subject. The author's curiosity outweighed that defensiveness, though, and there's a long section dedicated to the theoretical differences between the channeling of Nature and the channeling of Ccorde- in particular, there's no common dispositional element with druids. Whatever Nature is, it's willing to act through anyone who puts in the effort. The author didn't seem to know anything about animism, but you suspect druidic practice might be related in some way- that their nature-spirit-channeling abilities may be a form of animism. The book is unfortunately light on the practical details of druidcraft, as the author prefers that the reader eschew the practice in favor of fealty to Ccorde.

Okay! So, they head down the road to stay at the druid village for the night- and notice something odd on the way, after some Nature checks. They notice that the dirt road they're going down seems to divide the forest in two- between a sparse, ivy-choked pine forest to the northeast, and a dense, healthy-looking deciduous forest to the southwest. You usually don't get such a sharp delineation between forests like that.

And Looseleaf notices... that their map doesn't show a forest on the southwest side of the road. The road is supposed to just go along the edge of the pine forest. Also, Looseleaf can see the trees' spirits there, and there's something... not quite right.

Benedict I. (GM):The left side of the woods- there does seem to be some ambient magic. Your Sight Unseen ability doesn't exactly detect magic, so much as it lets you see spirits, including the spirits of spells- but what's going on here isn't a spell effect. It's just that the spirits of these healthy-looking deciduous trees don't quite match their physical forms. Their spirits seem... sickly? Frail? Like they're not full trees, not trees that grew in their places from fallen seeds. There's something false about them.

Looseleaf: When you said 'the left side of the road is full of healthy-looking deciduous trees and the right side is full of misshaped thorny things' you know what the first thing i thought was it was, 'the left side is the dangerous side.' i didn't say it out loud but i was totally thinking that, and i am glad to have been vindicated.

The weird forest doesn't seem to be attacking them, though, so they head onward towards Umbrella Village, which seems to be built entirely on the pine side of the road. It's kind of cool-looking- every inch of available space, on the lawns, roofs, and walls, is covered in fruiting vines and various plants. The whole village is a carefully-cultivated ecosystem.

The villagers seem surprised to have visitors- apparently it's not a common occurrence. They seem normal enough, though- while they don't have an inn, they direct the party to visit the village elder, who might know where the best place for them to spend the night is.

(Oyobi once again crit-fails her Animal Handling check, and is unable to prevent her giraffe from ripping a tomato plant off the side of someone's house, which gets her scolded. Why are you a ranger, Oyobi?)

They head down to the village elder's house, which is unique in not being overgrown with crops- and knock on the door.

The door is answered by a little lizardfolk girl, who doesn't have any idea what she's supposed to do about there being... people... here? People she's never seen before? Who don't live in the village? What???

Benedict I. (GM): "...Who...?" "GRANDMAAAAA," she calls back into the room. Which she didn't really need to do so loudly, because there's an elderly lizardfolk woman sitting right there next to a small fire.

Looseleaf: Oh, and Looseleaf was about to ask if the little girl was the elder. Never let external appearances color your preconceptions, and all that. Benedict I. (GM): "Eh?" "Gramma there's Mysterious People!" "They don't exist!" The old woman gets up. "Who's... oh, visitors?" The little girl looks confused. "Vizza-what?" Looseleaf:"Indeed, we are emissaries from the Faraway Phantom Lands of Nonexistence," Looseleaf says in deadpan to the girl. "Behold as my incorporeal voice from out of the thin air astonishes you!" To the old lady, Looseleaf says. "Excuse us. You must be the elder?"

They inquire about a place to stay for the night, and the elder... checks the weather. Looseleaf, who has Druidcraft as a racial ability, also checks the weather, using a fancy little snowglobe spell!

Looseleaf: "I'unno, does this help?" Benedict I. (GM): "Oh, goodness. I thought you were from outside- do they..." "That's very well-done, really, and you smell delicious, but..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: uh Benedict I. (GM): "Well, it ought to be fine." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...hmm," says Saelhen. Benedict I. (GM): "Just put your bedrolls out anywhere- we're not doing rain tonight." "Well, anywhere in town, anyway." "You shouldn't set foot in the Mysterious Woods." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Ma'am, rest assured that we have less than no interest in Mysterious Woods."

So the party beds down in some soft pine needles, making use of Looseleaf's recently-acquired Extremely Comfy Pillow and a few bedrolls. They have a druid elder's assurance that the elements won't be a problem, so... nothing wrong with camping!

And as they're going to bed, Looseleaf rolls a 21 on Perception.

Luckily, Looseleaf fails her unarmed strike roll, which would do no damage even if it hit because her strength mod is -1. So she does not do any damage to...

Benedict I. (GM): So, you kick out at the mouth full of sharp teeth. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Fwff, goes Looseleaf's puffy moth footsie. Benedict I. (GM): The mouth full of sharp teeth goes "Eeek!" and recoils before you make impact, and you see the little lizardfolk girl scamper away into the darkness. Looseleaf: "What." "Wh- how dare you bite me! I am an emissary of the Phantom Lands and all that or whatever." "Come back here and explain yourself to My Imperial Nonexistingness!"

The little girl, affronted, explains that if she's not real, then it's not bad if she bites her!

Vayen: Vayen stirs. "...Shouldn't kill a child," he mumbles. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...this is a new dream," remarks Saelhen. "Better than the dreams about dad." "Vayen's even deciding not to kill someone. This is super neat, subconscious, keep going."

Saelhen argues that maybe Gramma doesn't know what things taste good, because sometimes grammas think things that taste bad taste good, like bell peppers! The child has no defense against this devastating logic bomb, and scampers off into the darkness, indignant.

Next time: the journey to Cauterdale, and the menace of the bobbledragon.

#twofaced jewel #tfj log

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

Warning! Personal Post because I’m feeling extremely nostalgic. 

Stories about romantic relationships seem to always be about “the one” or “the one you never should have dated because the dynamic was so toxic”. So seldom do we talk about romances that were short and sweet, but never meant to last. 

I just blazed through @cellsshapedlikestars wonderful story, “love's not a competition (but i'm winning)”, which was wonderful (everyone read it), and it drummed up so many memories about the boy I dated my sophomore year in college, let’s call him Jesse, that I wanted to write about him…

The rest of my self-indulgent memories are after the break. 

I’ve found myself thinking of Jesse more often years later, than I ever did in the immediate aftermath of our relationship. It’s not because ours was a burning love, or that he was the one who got away or anything like that, but because my relationship with him set the stage for what I came to expect out of even the most casual romantic relationships I had afterward.  

I’m thinking of him now, because that story I ready is about a girl who doesn’t realize she is dating a boy (though it's obvious to everyone else) until the last possible moment. It’s funny and sweet, and kind of how Jesse and I got together. 

I went to a really small liberal arts college, where the ratio of heterosexual or bisexual men to heterosexual women, does not favor women. That was pretty much fine with me. I was not what you would call relationship-seeking and I liked an uphill climb when it came to my romantic interests. I liked to pine after someone just out of reach, while randomly hooking up with other people on the side (that’s something to unpack on another day). 

Anyway, Jesse was my friend David’s best friend from back home, who took a gap year to bike the Pacific Crest Bicycle trail and then bum around the city where they were from. He came to visit a few times during the spring semester of our freshman year, but he didn’t start attending our college until the start of sophomore year. He entered the fall semester with a ready-made friend group and a flock of thirsty girls clamoring for a single, straight guy who was in great shape from his trip down the California coast. While Jesse seemed great, I immediately placed him in the friend category. He was sporty and tan and gregarious, while I tended to fixate on the brooding intellectual type. Plus, I had no interest in throwing my hat in an already overly full ring. 

Still, we were in the same circle of friends, so very quickly I got used to him being around, and Jesse was easy to love. He was affable and always up for new adventures. Soon, he was my go-to for many things. If my bike got a flat tire or we needed an extra player for a pick-up game of soccer or a racquetball tournament, I’d text Jesse. And he’d text me too, inviting me along to off-campus dinner parties, bike rides, and sometimes just to lie in the hammock he strung up outside his dorm room and smoke weed. He worked at the sailing club, and there were many afternoons I’d skip out on a necessary study session because he invited me out on the catamaran. 

I didn’t read anything into it. Everything was easy with Jesse. Everything was light. Was I attracted to him? Yes, but so was everyone. I knew he was into casual sex because he’d shared a few funny stories from his gap year, one involving breaking someone’s sink, and at least in the first weeks of school, he seemed to very much enjoy and embrace the attention he was getting from the opposite sex. 

While I felt a slight bitterness when I thought about how easy it was to get laid if you were a dude, I didn’t hold his good fortune against him. In fact, I went out of my way to be a good wing-woman. If we were at a party, and I realized we had ended up in a corner with only him, myself and whatever girl was clearly angling for him that night, I’d duck out and leave them alone. 

Early in the semester I had already picked my impossible romance; a senior year philosophy major who lived off campus and was rarely spotted at the parties we attended. The odds were very much against me, but that was fine by me. It kept me from being too distracted, and when we did cross paths, something about the slim possibility lit me up. 

Well, one night the stars aligned. Mr. Philosophy was at a friend’s party and somehow he and I ended up engaging in my favorite type of flirtation; a spirited debate about something theoretical and completely irrelevant where we could both be smug and disagreeable and walk away thinking we had won. We were drunkenly pontificating and probably about two drinks and one late night playlist change away from maybe getting somewhere when Jesse swooped in and completely cock-blocked me!

He just grabbed me by the arm, mid-sentence, and said, “Let’s take a walk.”

Well, of course, I was indignant, and I spent the entire stroll down to the bay explaining why. I could not understand why he was pulling me away from my conversation with the hot senior, when I had been crushing on him all semester. I don’t think Jesse had known that, but when I made it clear, a pained expression crossed his face, but he stayed silent as I continued my tirade. Why did he pull me away? It wasn’t like I was too drunk or anything, and I never pulled this kind of shit with him. When Megan or Rachel or whatever girl seemed into him, I didn’t interfere, even when Jesse was mucking it up by talking too much to me instead of them. Like a good friend, I’d make a graceful exit and leave them to it. So again...after all that, why was he fucking up my love life now? 

As a man of action and not words, at some point Jesse ended my stupid rant with a kiss. A very good kiss that led to more kissing, on the beach and then a stumbly, kissy, messy walk back to my dorm where we kissed and kissed and kissed some more in my bed until finally we fell asleep. I suppose at this point, I should explain that I was still a virgin. I’d fooled around enough to be pretty comfortable with other things, and I wasn’t waiting for any particular reason other than wanting to have sex with someone that I liked enough not to make it a one-time event.

The next morning, after Jesse left, I realized we had spent more time kissing than talking and I still had no idea what to make of the previous evening. Was it a one night dalliance, and we’d go back to being friends? Plausible, knowing his seeming aversion to relationships. Still, it seemed a strange thing for him to seek me out like that. What if it strained our friendship? I didn’t want things to get weird just because we spent a night making out. 

That didn’t happen with other people I had hooked up with that semester and I’d gone farther with most of them... but the others weren’t Jesse. 

And that’s how I realized that I actually liked him. I didn’t really care if things got weird with the others. I didn’t really like them. I liked Jesse. I liked him a lot. 

Cue an entire day of me freaking out while he seemed to disappear off the face of the planet. By the next morning, I had convinced myself that it meant nothing to him, and I should never bring it up ever again. Right when I was resolved to this course of action, I ran into him at the campus cafe, with his parents. They had come for a visit the previous afternoon, which was why he wasn’t on campus and why I’d heard nothing from him. But now, he hugged me and introduced me and even invited me to get lunch with them, and acted like everything was totally normal and still I had no idea what was going on. 

So I joined them and assumed Jesse’s play would be that the night of making out never happened, and that we would slide back into being good pals, and I was ready to swallow my tongue and slide back with him. I think we went to a concert after that and I was still with them when Jesse’s parents left and suddenly it was just he and I, and while I’m sure I stood there, totally awkward, Jesse just scooped me into another kiss. 

We didn’t have a conversation about what any of this meant. We just...started a relationship. A few nights later, we had sex...in a tent, down on the beach, after attending a ribald school tradition; a sex panel led by the most popular students and faculty, more funny than educational, with plenty of condoms and beer for everyone. 

Our first time was messy and a bit awkward but also lovely and fun and then we just kept doing it...all semester. I didn’t need to ask what we were. It was obvious we were a couple, but there was also a clear expiration date on our romance. 

Around the same time we hooked for the first time, I had decided I was transferring at the end of the semester, to another college in a much larger city, across the country. I told Jesse, a few weeks after we started sleeping together almost every night and it didn’t really change anything. Like I said at the beginning, Jesse was not the one who got away. Even as he became embedded in my life and opened me up to a very active (and I really mean active. To this day, Jesse is the most athletic and experimental person I’ve ever slept with) and very fun sex life, we didn’t connect at a level I knew that I wanted to connect with someone...someday. 

It wasn’t until my last week or two at school that he even really opened up about why he pursued me in the first place. Ironically enough, he liked that I never seemed that into him. He knew he wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, and he kept getting signals from other girls that they were looking for something more. This is when he admitted that it drove him crazy when I’d walk away at parties. Apparently he had been trying to send the signal for weeks that he was into me, but like a loon, I missed it. Even so, he liked that I didn’t take him into consideration when I decided to transfer and that I didn’t expect too much from him. 

In hindsight, I find this an amusing sentiment, because whether I gave him the expectation or not, he was giving me what I’d guess any of those other girls were looking for in a college relationship. He was there when I needed him, spent almost every night with me, and we shared the same friends. I never said he couldn’t, but I knew that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else when we were together. He was funny and the sex was good, and he made me feel beautiful and funny and free. 

He was the last person I saw when I left that semester. I stopped at his parent’s house on my way home for the holidays. We didn’t talk about what to do. We knew our relationship was over, but I let him press me up against a wall one last time and enjoyed every minute with him until I drove away for good. 

We didn’t really keep in touch after that, though a few years later, when I went back to see my other friends graduate, we had a cocktail together by the bay. He was in love then, to a dancer who was as vibrant and as adventurous as he was and I was so happy for them both. I had just ended a relationship with a guy who in many respects was Jesse’s polar opposite; a repressed, overly-analytical intellectual (another philosophy major) who talked everything to death. Our relationship was fraught and intense, and seeing Jesse again put a lot of things into perspective for me. 

I never fell in love with him like I had begun to with my more recent ex, but I had enjoyed my time with Jesse far more, and I felt better about myself when I thought about our time together, and that seemed important somehow. Seeing him reminded me that actions could mean just as much as words, if not more, and that any relationship, no matter the scope or intensity, for me, still necessitated a certain level of respect and regard and fun between both parties. 

I’m not sure I have the capacity to fully unpack all my thoughts on the topic, but I do know that I will always look back fondly on my first adult relationship. It was short and sweet, but I know there are a lot of women who have bad memories of their first time, and for that alone I will always be grateful. 

Cheers to Jesse! Always a laugh! Always a good time! And the only person I ever fucked in a tree.

#personal #first time #nostalgia #self-indulgence #memories #college boyfriends #oblivious me

[drummergirl231-2]

A Recap on the Buzzards

Now that we officially know the Buzzards are the heads of F.O.W.L. as @astrodances​ speculated, I think it’s time we review their actions from the show so far (and of course  I have to add my own commentary afterwards).

“Woo-oo!”

Episode notes:

Bentley Buzzard informs Scrooge business is expanding in the Spoonerville and St. Canard markets.

Bentley informs Scrooge they are cutting funding to “unnecessary departments,” including Historical Research, Experimental Tech, and Deep Sea Exploration.

Scrooge, devoid of all enthusiasm, sarcastically replies, “Fantastic...”

DG notes:

In one of the earliest scenes in the show, we see Scrooge isn’t making the financial decisions in his own company. The Buzzards were cutting funding from departments for things he once cared about, and he raised no objections. Once he got his family back though, he also regained his enthusiasm for adventure and life in general, and those departments became necessary again. Within a few hours of meeting his great-nephews, he decided to take them on a deep sea exploration adventure, and I’m sure the Buzzards didn’t like that at all. They would have had to come up with a new strategy to maintain control of his company since his grief as a bereaved parent wasn’t enough anymore.

“The Great Dime Chase!”

Episode notes:

They call an unscheduled meeting with Scrooge shortly after his nephews move back in.

Bradford informs Scrooge that, as he knows, revenues are down in several international markets. He lists four of them and says, “We feel that...” before Gyro bursts in.

After Gyro’s spiel, Bradford asks him how he plans to ensure Li’l Bulb won’t achieve sentience and turn evil like all his other inventions. 

Li’l Bulb shakes his fist and runs a finger under his “throat,” to threaten Bradford. Bradford asks what it’s doing and Gyro says, “Waving. It likes you.”

Bradford shares a glance with each of his colleagues and then denies Gyro’s request for funding.

Scrooge tells Louie his board are the only people cheaper than he is, and he trusts them completely to make good financial decisions.

Bradford interrupts Scrooge and says they are calling the meeting “to discuss cutting your unnecessary spending here at the... money bin.”

The first cut they propose is on Scrooge’s $15,000,000 he’s spending on magical defense, to which Scrooge replies, “Do you have any idea how many vengeance curses I have on my head?!”

Bradford asks Scrooge how he can justify spending $5,000 on a velvet pillow for a dime.

Scrooge calls them “ya penny-pinching Buzzards!”

Scrooge says if they can find him 3,000 gallons of silver polish for cheaper, he’d love to hear about it. Bradford replies by saying this is getting them nowhere, and if Scrooge refuses to make cuts, they’ll be forced to fire bin employees to save money. 

Bradford says the obvious first choice is the archivist. Scrooge argues Quackfaster has kept his archives secure and orderly for 50 years. Bradford says, “Fine, Quackfaster stays.”

Bradford then says Gyro is “definitely unnecessary.” Scrooge argues Gyro is one of the most brilliant minds of their time.

 Scrooge sarcastically says if they’re going to fire all the employees, why not shut the whole bin down? And Bradford points out he does have a perfectly good office downtown before asking:

Scrooge tells the Buzzards if they fire his crazy employees, they’ll definitely seek revenge. Bradford asks for a vote: “All those in favor of keeping the bin and everyone in it far away from our offices?” The other two reply, “Aye.”

DG notes:

Isn’t it interesting that once Scrooge’s nephews moved back in, the Buzzards held an unscheduled meeting to try and get him to cut funding to his defenses and/or fire Quackfaster and Gyro? And possibly even shut down the money bin?

I’m sure the Buzzards knew exactly what they were doing in asking Scrooge to cut funding on magical defense. They knew there was something dangerous he was keeping locked up on an island somewhere. They also likely knew he had vengeance curses on his head and they wanted him defenseless. 

When they questioned him about the velvet pillow under the dime, it’s possible they were fishing for information about his dime, which we now know is more than just sentimental.

Then they tried to get him to fire Quackfaster, who keeps Scrooge’s records... even any existing records of the Spear of Selene. They probably figured since Scrooge’s family was back in his life, the event that drove them apart was bound to come up again, and if you’re familiar with this blog or @alliterative-albatross’, you’ll know we have reason to believe the Buzzards have something to hide when it comes to the incident. We believe they may have threatened Gyro to sabotage the rocket (and Gyro would have pretended to go along with their plans to buy himself time, but not actually plant real bombs on the rocket).

After they failed to convince Scrooge to fire Quackfaster, they tried to get Scrooge to fire Gyro, who built the Spear of Selene and would definitely have information to spill to the nephews if they came asking.

Then they tried to get the whole bin shut down, and deep inside Scrooge’s archives at the bin is the shrine he built in Della’s memory to process his grief in his own way.

Fortunately, with Scrooge’s family back in his life, we see a drastic change from the bored, depressed, broken, and submissive man he appeared to be in the pilot episode. With his family back, he has the strength to fight back against how the Buzzards want to run things. He said he trusted them completely to make good financial decisions - a sign they’ve had him under their thumb for years - but this was his first meeting post-reunion, and he’s not the doormat they’re used to anymore.

“Jaw$!”

Episode notes:

The Buzzards called to say Scrooge’s adventures were causing costly damages to Duckburg.

They also had Beakley pass along the message that they had set up a television interview for Scrooge with Roxanne Featherly to help boost his character.

DG notes:

Either they really did want Scrooge’s reputation to get a boost because that’d be good for the company and therefore good for them if they could regain control, or they knew Scrooge would make a fool of himself and they hoped he’d come to the conclusion again that he needed to listen to them.

“The Last Crash of the Sunchaser!”

Episode notes:

In Scrooge’s flashback of the events following Della’s disappearance, we see the Buzzards telling Scrooge his spending on the search for Della has far exceeded its budget and every other area of spending in the company. This is followed by a clip of his own private funds from the money bin draining drastically.

We see another clip of the bin draining again, followed by a clip of two of the Buzzards dragging a frantic Scrooge away from the control panel and out the door while the other stands in the background.

DG notes:

I’m willing to bet the Buzzards - while they had possibly hoped to get Scrooge killed with this rocket - found Della’s disappearance just as useful, if not more. If Scrooge had died on the rocket, that could have led to an investigation of what went wrong mechanically. But with Della lost in a cosmic storm, and with Scrooge believing she stole her own present for a test run (rather than knowing she discovered the conspiracy and was confident she could bust it on her own), the whole thing could look like a tragic accident... no one to blame but Della herself. And with Scrooge a broken and grieving man, he was easily manipulated.

The Buzzards would have known all they had to do was occasionally tell Scrooge he was spending far too much to look for Della when it was hopeless, knowing he wouldn’t listen to them, and only when Scrooge was “nearly bankrupt,” as Beakley said he was, would the Buzzards swoop in and put a stop to Scrooge’s search efforts, making them look like the heroes who saved his company and pulled him back from the brink of the abyss. From then on they had his trust and cooperation... until he reunited with his nephews.

“Last Christmas!”

Episode notes:

The Buzzards attended Scrooge’s first annual McDuck Enterprises Christmas Party in the 1960s.

Duckworth pushes present-day Scrooge toward the Buzzards to talk business. Scrooge asks them if they are enjoying the party and they huddle up to discuss the question for a moment before answering him in unison, “No.”

Bradford tells Scrooge with the economic downturn, having a Christmas that is both holly and jolly isn’t fiscally responsible. 

DG notes:

Calling a holly jolly Christmas fiscally irresponsible should have convinced more fans of their evilness. 

That aside, let’s look at the timeline a bit. This party took place after the events of the flashbacks in “The Confidential Casefiles of Agent 22!” Beakley was at the party, so she and Scrooge were already friends, so Scrooge had already worked as a freelance operative on a S.H.U.S.H. mission where they thwarted the F.O.W.L. agent, Black Heron.  When present-day Scrooge arrives at this Christmas party in the past, we find out it was the first one for McDuck Enterprises because he’d just started his company. The Buzzards, who have since been revealed as the heads of F.O.W.L., have been stationed in his company since it began because he was already an enemy of F.O.W.L.

“The 87 Cent Solution!”

Episode notes: 

They attended Scrooge’s staged funeral.

DG notes:

How much d’you wanna bet the whole time they were thinking, my gosh, the things we have to put up with to play the long game... 

“The Richest Duck in the World!”

Episode notes:

The Buzzards called a meeting after Louie spent $100,000,000 on an ottoman. Brandford asked him how exactly the ottoman benefits the company. 

Bradford tells Louie McDuck Enterprises is a business, not a bank account, and the money has to come from somewhere. Louie tells him to figure it out, since that’s what he pays him to do.

Bradford brings up the money spent on magical defense that he tried to have Scrooge cut in Season 1. He says it’s spent on a dark, mysterious island. Louie, not knowing what’s on the island, tells him to cut that. Bradford pulls a device with a single red button right out of his suit jacket and presses it, releasing the Bombie.

While on the island and trying to escape the Bombie, Louie calls Bradford and tells him to cut the funding to the McDuck satellite system immediately and drop them all on his location. Bradford asks him if he’s sure he knows what he’s doing, and he tells him he does. Bradford drops the satellites on the island and they explode. 

At the end of the episode, we find out the McDuck satellite system was a series of defense satellites, and once they went down, Lunaris was ready to invade.

DG notes:

Scrooge may have known all the ins and outs of McDuck Enterprises, but Louie did not. Scrooge knew that 15 million on magical defense was important and he knew why. Bradford probably also knew exactly what he was doing when he suggested cutting the funding to magical defense again, even though this time he didn’t bring up how much the company was spending on it and, if he had, Louie would have realized the 15 million wouldn’t have made up for the 100 million he just spent. It wasn’t about making up for the money he’d lost at all. They just wanted to get rid of Louie and get control of the company again, whether it was through becoming the heads of McDuck Enterprises themselves, or manipulating a grieving Scrooge again.

They also would have known those satellites were defense satellites, and while they’re evil, they’re not out to destroy the whole world (as Bradford later said in the finale, “...without the world, who would we larceny against?”). Bradford asked Louie if he knew what he was doing and while Louie said he did, of course he didn’t. (“The ducks almost cost us the world today...”)

“Moonvasion!”

Episode notes:

We find out the defense satellites were also useful for communication.

At the end of the episode, it is revealed the Buzzards are the head of F.O.W.L., and Bradford gives the following speech: “This has gone too far. The ducks almost cost us the world today, and without the world, who would we larceny against? The pieces are finally in place. Time to come out of the shadows, take control, and end Clan McDuck. If the McDuck family wants an adventure... we’ll give them their last.”

DG notes:

While I was certain the Buzzards were evil (we even had that IDW comic panel that proved they were trying to get rid of Scrooge), it still feels unreal that their evilness has been revealed in the show. #BlametheBuzzards2019 is officially valid.

There’s a lot to unpack and unravel when it comes to enemy spies being planted in Scrooge’s company from the beginning. Our new little conspiracy theorist Huey will have his hands full. 

And while Season 1 showed the parallels between Della and Dewey (their personalities, confidence, and love of adventure), and Season 2 showed the parallels between Della and Louie (seeing the angles and stressing out when their plans don’t go the way they thought), Season 3 will almost certainly show parallels between Della and Huey. And if Della did take the rocket because she tripped the wire while investigating a conspiracy, that would definitely parallel Huey’s search for answers. Seeing Huey try to bust a conspiracy on his own could be quite triggering for Della. She may try to stop him before he gets hurt.

I’m definitely looking forward to seeing what the Buzzards have been up to and how the family will find out about it all.

#ducktales buzzards #ducktales 2017 #ducktales season 1 #ducktales seaon 2 #blamethebuzzards2019 #ducktales speculation #blame the buzzards 2019 #ducktales season 3 #ducktales #ducktales spear of selene #ducktales f.o.w.l.

[alicepink-me]

The New Guardian

Story Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng is an adult in the real world, guarding the Miracle Box in Master Fu's place. She's in love with Chat Noir, but refuses to tell him her feelings. New holders appear to fight the duo and shake up their lives. Marinette makes a tough decision about her future as Ladybug.

Chapter 16: Three Days

April stared at Marinette's body through the steam that her cup emitted, leaned against her own bed. Marinette's health improved drastically this morning, so there shouldn't be much time left. April sipped her tea and looked to her clock. In fact, based on Marinette's accelerated heart rate and appearance, she'd say there was only a few minutes left for her. April wasn't positive, especially since this is experimental, but she was confident.

Although . . . there was always the possibility that she'd never wake up, stay in an eternal slumber or even die. Anything could happen, but April only wanted positivity, the exact opposite of her normal personality.

April focused on her friend. The color began to return to her body, her lips pinkening. After Chat Noir brought Marinette to their room, April fixed her up. That was of course after her own two days asleep under the spell. Marinette laid in her bed under the sheets with her clothes and hair neatly adjusted. With all the fighting, her clothes were slightly ripped and her hair was a mess, so cleaning her appearance before she woke up was a must. Marinette wore a nice white dress and kept her signature pigtails. April wore a crop top with leggings.

April sipped her tea, hardly blinking. Marinette said one time that her favorite color was pink, so when April got bored, she painted her nails pink. It's not like she had important classes to go to anyway with the entire academy being on a tiny vacation at the moment.

Marinette took a long deep breath. April set her cup down and walked over. She placed the back of her hand against Marinette's forehead as the girl's eyes shot open. Those bluebells rapidly searched the blurred area before stopping at a familiar face.

"April . . . " Marinette took another breath, eyes half lidded. "What's going on?" She adjusted to the lighting.

"You're awake." April smiled, the happiest Marinette's ever seen her look. Marinette tiredly blinked at her. April turned around and grabbed another tea cup and poured some from her teapot. She sighed with joy. "Well a lot is going on right now." She said, setting the pot down. Marinette scooted up, sitting straight. April handed her the cup. "But you need to recover first."

"I need a nap." Marinette rubbed her eyes, taking the cup.

"You just slept for three days." April chuckled.

"Three days?" Marinette choked on hot tea. "What has . . . " She stared off in space for a moment. April looked at her weird. "Nevermind. I . . . remember." She took another sip.

"It's a lot to take in."

"I tried to kill you." Marinette said.

"It happens." April poured more tea.

"But I could've." Marinette shrugged. "I could've been worse than Hawkmoth and murdered people." She looked down, glooming at her reflection in the tea.

"You spend too much time down in the dumps." April rolled her eyes before turning to her bed and hopping up. "I understand you've dealt with a lot but come on . . . there's some good. A cute guy and not just any guy, the one you love, traveled all the way from Paris to Tibet to check up on you. Then he proceeded to plan a way to rescue you from your impending execution, which succeeded. Not the execution, but the plan." April pointed out. "You aren't gonna find that just anywhere. You need to hop on that before you regret it."

"I don't know." Marinette sighed. "It's so much. Who knows what he's feeling let alone what I am?"

"Oh please!" April scoffed. "You two are madly in love and just need to shut up already. So far, talking hasn't been either of your strong suits and it's really getting in the way!"

"So about the temple . . . " Marinette awkwardly sipped some tea, looking away. "What did you do after I blacked out?"

April glared at her clear avoidance. "Well . . . right before Chat Noir and I fixed your miraculous, I was working to erase the entire council's memory."

Marinette focused. "And?"

"I didn't." April grinned.

"What?!" Marinette shrieked. "They'll murder me!"

"Calm down." April rolled her eyes. "I did something better."

Marinette leaned back. "Why does that sentence scare me?"

"You're so dramatic." April said. "But anyway . . . instead of erasing, I changed their memories. So now, the council should love you. You're a hero." She put her hands on her hips smugly. "I'll accept my thank you now, preferably in cash."

"But why am I the hero? What do they think of me?" Marinette questioned.

"Ugh! Can't you just accept the end result?" April was met with an intense stare. "I just fed them exactly what memories you have as Ladybug, but without their biases. Anyone with a brain would be on your side in the matter. I did however add a thought in the back of their minds that your life was their ideas. I didn't create a false memory, but they just have a sort of feeling that they knew everything you were doing as Ladybug and were okay with it. None of them will question it. I promise."

"But what if they do?"

"They won't." April insisted. "I nearly died to create their minds and they won't dare remember. They're basically my children at this point and I'm Frankenstein."

"So am I like their student?" Marinette questioned.

"Kind of. You are a special student of theirs that they don't think too hard about and you can visit this temple at any time you want and stay in here as my roommate. Plus . . . " April added. "I put a suspicion blocker in their heads. If a student brings up you with negative thoughts or information that contradicts my memories, they will simply not hear it. It goes straight through their minds. They may make a positive comment about you in response, but otherwise, they'll ignore it.

"At least I can come back." Marinette smiled. "I don't think I could forget this place or any of the friends I've made." She sipped her tea.

"I don't think we'd be completely offended if you left us and never came back since we're used to that kind of stuff. But considering I just used my life force to save you a few days ago . . . I'd expect at least an email." She smiled.

"Don't worry. As long as Min Jee answers my calls, I should be able to teleport here every now and then." Marinette flipped the covers off and set her cup down on the table. "But I don't have to leave right away either. I can stay and relax for a bit."

April made a face. "I don't think you're gonna be relaxing for awhile." She laughed. "Or maybe you will, but that all depends on how long you put off your problems."

Marinette's eyes widened. "Where's Chat Noir?"

A loud thump was heard at the door along with an ouch. Marinette stared at April as the color drained from her face. "Is that . . . "

"Marinette." He called.

"Chat Noir was here the whole time?" Marinette freaked out, whispering. "He heard everything."

"I don't think you said anything that he hadn't already known." April glared at the door. "And as for why he's here . . . I did kick him out, but he won't leave us alone!"

"Well I'm sorry that I'm concerned for my partner's health." He retorted.

"Oh don't remind me. I only did you a massive favor." April scoffed. "The door in your face should have been a huge clue to move your butt somewhere else."

"I would like to see her." Chat argued.

April rolled her eyes and turned to Marinette. "Feel free to jump in any time. He might be cute, but I don't know how you worked with him." Marinette slowly sank back into her bed, cheeks flaming red. "Oh no. Don't you dare." Marinette remained quiet as she flipped her covers back over. "No! Stop blushing! That's your man! You gotta do something!" April jumped on the bed and shook Marinette. "Stop blushing!"

"I'm sorry, I can't help it!" Marinette covered her cheeks.

"It shouldn't be this awkward." April stated. "He might be irritating, but you obviously love him."

"Don't tell the entire world." Marinette whispered.

"Why?" April furrowed her brows. "Anyone that knows you, can easily see it and anyone who doesn't know you, doesn't care."

"You make it sound easy." Marinette sat up.

"Cause it is. I don't need a man right now, but if I want one, I can get one." She snapped her fingers. "It's that simple." Marinette sighed.

Chat leaned his head against the door. "Marinette, can I please see you?" He pleaded.

April raised her eyebrows and looked at Marinette.

"Ohhhhhh . . . " Marinette groaned, grabbing her cup and aggressively drinking more tea. "My life is over."

"Your life is just starting." April hopped off the bed and grabbed Marinette's arm. "Come on, get up. You need to get out of bed."

"I don't want to." Marinette complained as she slid over the side of her mattress.

"Ugh, when did I become a mother?" April asked herself as she grabbed a pair of sunglasses from her desk. She slipped them through her hair, resting them on the top of her head. "Anyway . . . I'm starving. Forty-eight hours of sleep is really refreshing, but it really took a lot out of me . . . " She stretched, smoothing her hair back. "And I'm about to binge the whole café. I deserve it anyway."

"Did you not eat when you woke up?"

"Of course I did. I wasn't waiting for you." April rolled her eyes. "But I'm hungry again." She flipped her glasses down over her eyes. April moved to the door and flipped the lock, pulling the handle. Adrien came bursting through before falling face first to the floor. April bit her lip. She lowered her glasses to look between the two. "Yeah . . . there's nothing I can do about that now." She flipped the shades back and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Adrien stared up at Marinette from the floor. Neither of them blinked, but Marinette wasn't even breathing. Her grip loosened and the tea cup dropped, shattering against the wood floors. Adrien blinked first before standing, brushing himself off.

"Adrien?" Marinette mumbled.

#miraculous ladybug #MIRACULOUS: TALES OF LADYBUG AND CHAT NOIR #marinette dupain cheng #Adrien agreste #fanfiction #ladybug #ladynoir #chat noir #alice pink #alicepink-me #the new guardian #miraculous

[aggresivelyfriendly]

~Meet Me In The Hallway~

Chapter 3-Waystation

The next morning, my big day of laundry did not happen. As happens when touring with a massive amount of people and months of travel ahead of you, I had completely forgotten what day it was. There were stretches where I wasn’t even sure what country we were in when the sun rose, and we were confined to the British Isles so far. 

My head spun when I thought of the future. I always found out our location though. While all the boys were at sound check, I often wandered down to the front desk of wherever we had slept and asked for recommendations. I had told myself the night before when Harry had revealed that he was saddened he never saw their surroundings a little secret. I’m not sure I had consciously admitted my intentions to myself. I wanted to see wherever we were for him. I would be his eyes and ears. I already made it a point to see something of the place I was along for the ride to, but now I was going to see it and document it. So that I could share it with Harry. I hoped it would be a balm instead of salt in the wound.

I woke up that morning in much the same position I had fallen asleep in. Harry was long and lean and warm, pressed against me from knee to shoulder and his face was in my hair. As I expected this situation, hoped for it really, I did not wake with a start this morning, instead I snuggled down into the white linens and his embrace. My bed sharing habits were nonexistent and this was only the second time I had woken up in his orbit. The first had been ruined by my shock. That morning I cataloged my awe. The white duvet was pulled up and over our shoulders, creating a cocoon with just our heads emerging. The air around us was softly scented with human smells. Warm skin and soured breath. Instead of being off putting, I was mildly disappointed that I was not facing Harry, that I did not have access to his breath or a view of his face. His exhalation rumbled our and stirred my hair faintly, like a light breeze coming off the ocean. I was still in my y shirt and shorts and harry was in his pants, so only the skin of our legs were pressed together. I, by some small favor of heaven, was not someone who had to shave everyday. I had heard many of my friends bemoan their prickliest, and I did get them, but they grew slowly and the two days since I’d slicked the bands of metal over my limbs were recent enough to keep them at bay. Harry did not shave his legs. For that I was thankful.  I could feel his wiry, coarse hair, sparse though it was, brushing against my legs as I stirred. It reminded my of slipping my legs into sweats after the sun went down at the beach, when a chill has started and salt stuck skin needs warming. The little nubs smooth over your legs and provide a barrier from the crisp air.

The current situation was without chill. Harry was a good ten degrees warmer than the air outside our blanket tent and I relished it. My toes pressed into his and I tried to think about the way each individual part of my body felt so close to his. I had just gotten to the way my hips fit into his pelvis when my loud thoughts must have stirred him.

His arms tightened around me and I could feel his inhale. The next thrill came when he stretched along my back. Those were all new feelings. The leg between my own ran along me like a pumice stone and the muscle of his thighs bulged in the space between my own. I was trying to not notice what my sit bones were pressed tighter against when his back popped loudly.

“That sounded uncomfortable,” my hand reached behind myself unconsciously and rubbed his lower back and he made that sound again, my new favorite noise, the purr when he was petted, so I rubbed at the spot until he spoke.

“That’s dead nice, Mel. Could you?” He rolled towards me and I moved from under him as he stretched out on his stomach. I sat up while trying to keep my hand on him, laughing at the awkward positioning.

“What exactly are you wanting me to do?” His position was indicative, but I wasn’t sure what exactly he expected. Was I to broaden my rubbing or give a full on back massage?

“Could you just,” he motioned to his lower back then pointed further afield.

“Harry, I’m not on your payroll, nor am I in any way qualified to massage anybody. Does Mark do this?”

“Cmon Mel, feels lovely when you scratch and rub me. My back aches,” He ended the sentence with a little whine, a sound I heard from all the boys in my keep. Little girls may be more high pitched, but they have nothing on man children for whining.

“You do know that you are a whopping eighteen years old, right? Your back has no business hurting. Should see somebody. What’s that?” I could hear him murmuring into the pillow he was pressed against while I sat next to him and pressed experimentally into his back.

“I’m nineteen,” he moved his head to the left so his sound was less muffled. “That’s so nice, babe.” He moaned.

I blinked. The moan was also distracting, I shook my head to clear it and asked, “since when?”

“Right before London, I think. Remember when everybody went out after that show?” He up talked the end and I tried to remember. Ohhhh, everybody had gone out that night, but I’d stayed in the hotel. Hoping for a night where I had gotten to sleep before my brother made it back with anyone he had picked up for the night. I ran out of luck at 3am when I’d woken up to loud histrionics from some girl who clearly watched too much porn. I just shut my eyes and stayed in my room. If they were to drunk to care, I’d just put in ear plugs

“Oh!! Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” I was getting frustrated with the angle I was working at and wanted to move astride him.

“Why, did you want to give me a prezzie?”

He looked over his shoulder and his tongue pressed to right corner of his mouth and the gesture was so obscenely appealing I nearly couldn’t keep mine from lolling out of my mouth. I decided to ignore that innuendo entirely as a result. “Consider this your present,” I commented and moved to straddle him.

“Oh, I will,” he giggled and the sound was so boyish I wanted to kiss the back of his neck. I focused my attention elsewhere instead. I rubbed his back in the way the salon chairs did and he made lots of happy noises.

When I got to his middle lower back, the symphony of his sounds took on a baser quality and I decided to focus on the spots that made him particularly percussive rather than the tightness his melody was causing to my own snare drum. At one particularly sensitive section, he wiggled his hips and l nearly hit the high hat on my own.

A moment later, it seemed I had run out of skin to manipulate and so I patted him and rolled to the side. Harry didn’t respond in words, but instead picked up to hand to kiss.

“Thank you, that was lovely.” He kissed the other too and stretched out languidly. My impulse was to remount him and stretch out on his back, but I restrained myself and smiled back instead.

“How long has your back been hurting?” I stretched myself out next to him and turned on my side to face him. I kept my straying eyes above his collarbones, though there were distractions there to, and prayed my hands together to mirror his pose, tucking them beneath my head.

He shrugged, “um, it’s always a bit stiff in the morning,” he stopped for a moment and looked amused but continued to talk about his back, “think it started to give me more trouble at the end of last tour?”

“Did you tell mark?”

“Nah, he’ll just call me a whiner and add sets.”

I rolled my eyes, boys. “I don’t think so Harry, you are awfully young to have any pain, let alone back stuff. Tell Mar—,” his groan interrupted me, “tell Mark,” I continued, “ so you don’t get hurt.”

“Ugh, you’re as bad as my sister,” he blustered into his pillow.

That chaffed, I had no desire to be sisterly. “Because I don’t want you laid up by 25? Listen, just mention it, alright?” I decided to drop it, I had no desire to be a nag. My brother accused me of it often enough.

He jumped on the subject change and pulled the blankets up and over our heads. “Blanket fort!” He said gleefully and tucked the duvet between the mattress and head board. All the white surrounding us made his skin look even tanner. He started pulling in pillows then, placing them around us to create a raised square.

“I don’t think we have enough, I’m a lot bigger than the last time I did this.”

“Nah, you’re tiny,” he put his huge hand on my head and pushed down.

“That won’t make me fit, wanker!” I pushed his hand off.

The mischievous look in his eye gave me an inkling I was in for it. I would have made a run for it had I not been so distracted.

“Harry,” I said not sure what was coming, but I had an idea. He quickly moved his hand from my head to my tummy and wiggled them. “No!”

He laughed and sent his fingers dancing up my sides. I sucked in a big breath and tried to wriggle away. “The fort!”

“This is a tickle fort Mel, you are going to have to escape to get away. His finger crooked at me while I scrambled, he successfully got a hold of my foot and slid me back to him. I writhed as he found all of my spots.

"No!” Breathless, “st—stahp…stop Harry!” My foot caught his ribs and he yelped. I took the opportunity to wriggle away. I was successful, but at the cost of my dignity. The unceremonious drop of my ass to the ground didn’t bruise anything but my ego. “Ooof,” exploded from my mouth and his giggles did the same.

He had undone our blanket fort in just enough time to watch me hit the ground. Apparently he found it hilarious. “Your face!” He bent at the waist and wheezed.

“Fuck off!” I grit. “I hope you choke!”

“Harsh,” he laughed. “You embarrassed, Mel?”

“I’m pissed off!” I blistered, “I fucken hate being tickled!”

“Oh Mel! Loosen the reins. It’s fun.” His giggles were dying out. He looked at me. “Hey, I’m sorry, it was just a bit of fun. Everybody is ok here. If you don’t like it, I won’t do it again.” He slid off the bed and ran a finger over my chin. I liked that. His touch moved to my hand and he pulled me up. “Don’t be mad at me. I didn’t know it was a thing.”

“I just, I feel like I might hurt you, or pee on myself. I’m sure I look ridiculous,” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“You look free, your cheeks flush,” he gestured, “and you laugh big. You look lovely, Mel! But if you don’t like i—.”

“It’s alright, it’s not such a big deal,” I shook it off.

“K,” he chucked my chin. “Come talk to me while I shave?”

“Shave what?” I giggled.

“My many facial hairs, you fool,” and he leaned in to show me.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, “now I see all three of them!”

“Fuck off!” He pulled me after him into the bathroom.

Later I sat on the closed toilet seat and watched him shave. “ What are you doing today?” I felt embarrassed I had to clear my throat to ask.

“Um,” he pulled the razor away. “I think they have some songs for us to listen to, and a brief radio thing.” He shrugged and went back to wicking away his santa beard.

“Ah. Doesn’t sound to bad.”

“Nah, not to bad. Pretty clear for us really.” He was such a bright sider I sometimes thought he needed smaller cups.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Um, Glasgow?”

 "What would you do if you were able to see it?“

Harry filled me in on a few of his bucket list items and a mentally filed them away.

"I had better shower,” was his comment after finished his final stroke. “It’s gotten late. You are a distraction, with your tickles and forts, and insistence on rubbing on my sexy body.”

“As if!” I exaggerated.

“Listen, Cher, I’m gonna have to kick you out!”

“Whatever,” I put up the W to emphasize my quotes. “I should probably get back before he’s noticed.”

“Has he noticed, or does he care where you go at night?”

“No,” I laughed, “honestly, you’ve seen. He shoved me out in his glorious pursuit of dirty sex and assumes someone with take me in—.”

“Someone has taken you in.” Harry reminded, turning on the shower to warm it up.

I watched the water bead on his forearm when he checked the temperature and continued, “he said something about Lou one morning. I think he thinks I’m sleeping in with her.” I looked down at my phone, avoiding the deep well of his eyes.

“If my sister was here now, I’d want to know where she was sleeping.”

“I imagine when your sister comes around  you don’t kick her out to have indiscriminate sex.”  He shrugged and I decided go pay better attention when Gemma came around again.

“I’m sure he’d have something to say if he knew you were bunking with me so often.”

“Why? You lend your bed. Nothing is going on.” He looked at me then, and I almost asked, but instead I stared down at our hands and we both kept quiet.

“Regardless, I think he wouldn’t like it,” Harry said finally.

“Then I guess I won’t tell him, will I? If he even bothers to ask. I’m a big girl, I’ll sleep where I want.”

Harry laughed when I made a muscle, “You are tiny. And should get your tiny arse in the shower.” He waved his hand over his face.

“You can go, I don’t have a diary full of things to do. besides, should shower in my room, I don’t have any clean clothes here.”

“You can wear mine.” Harry pulled himself up and shook and stretched on the way into the bathroom.

“Pretty sure that would blow our cover, and my brother is too aware of your shenanigans, apparently," I emphasized, "to trust that I could sleep in here innocently.” Harry’s face answered a few questions for me and I got up to leave, unsettled in an unpleasant way. “See you later, Harry,” I quitted his room.

“Later, babe,” drifted after me and took my level of discomfort down, but I knew now that we were hiding us, whatever we were, and I didn’t like it.

It didn’t stop me.

Reblogs are love!!

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #Harry Styles imagine #mmith #meet me in the hallway #Chapter 3 #song fic

[imaginetonyandbucky]

criminal minds au where bucky and tony have a relationship like garcia and derek sort of. but instead they are actually seceretly in love with ech other an hiding it in plain sight. steve keeps trying to convice bucky to go for it.

AN: This show might be a guilty pleasure of mine. XD You don’t need to watch the show to follow this fic, but here’s a quick montage reference for Garcia & Morgan’s banter-filled relationship.

Bucky crept through what was left of the HYDRA base currently smoldering around them, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. He’d been searching the same spot for a good five minutes, eyes and ears telling him everything was clear, while his gut told him otherwise. There was always the chance that Bucky was wrong, but HYDRA had been getting better at building hidey-holes in the hopes that the Avengers might miss valuable intel or equipment as they swept through.

“Hey, baby boy, you there?” he said into the comms.

“Your friendly neighborhood Oracle of all things knowable and unknowable at your service,” Tony answered.

Hearing the familiar, playful tone of voice eased away Bucky’s building tension. “I need that big, beautiful brain of yours, dollface.”

“Well, consider every last inch of me ready, willing, and—might I add—enthusiastically able to do your bidding.”

Bucky grinned at the empty room around him, summoning up a mental image of Tony back at the compound, spinning in his chair and firing up a dozen different displays as he prepared to assist Bucky in the field.

“Don’t tempt me, baby boy. I need you—”

“Oh, how I love hearing that,” Tony interrupted, voice dripping with innuendo.

“—to put my mind at ease. Cap gave the all clear, but I’m gettin’ the heebie jeebies big time.”

“Uh oh, that’s almost as bad as cooties. Let me work my magic for you.”

“Thanks, babe.”

Bucky surveyed his surroundings, listening to the soft, soothing sound of Tony murmuring to himself as he scoured floorplans and satellite feeds, or whatever else he’d managed to scrounge up. Considering Tony was his go-to guy for… well, pretty much everything, it was strange to think that little over a year before Tony had been more or less determined to take Bucky down. And not in a sexy way.

Thinking back to those days always left Bucky feeling heavy and sick to his stomach. Steve and Tony weren’t talking, the Avengers had been split down the middle, and the world was on high alert in a way that reminded Bucky of the war torn existence he’d known before falling from the freight car. His arm had been disintegrated, and he’d put himself back in cryofreeze, terrified that someone new would step out of the shadows to use his programming against him. Hope had more or less been burned right out of him, leaving Bucky weary and hollow.

And then he’d woken up one day and everything had changed all over again. Well, maybe not everything. The Avengers and the world were still a mess, but Tony Stark had been standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets, and a look on his face that made Bucky think Steve must have been killed in action while he was in deep freeze.

Thankfully, that hadn’t been the case. Turns out the guilt and sorrow on display in Tony’s big, brown eyes was all for Bucky. Tony had a lot to say about what had happened, the words spilling out of him in a rush as if worried Bucky was going to go for his throat, and not let him finish. The anger over Steve’s betrayal, the frustration and heartache and horror that had been building up inside of Tony throughout the years leading up to that moment in Siberia.

At the end of his lengthy apology, Tony had shown Bucky the replacement arm he’d built, had told him about the Binarily Augmented Retro Framing project, offered it up to Bucky and the team of Wakandan scientists watching over him as a way to work through his own traumas.

Having a bit of context helped, but the truth was, Bucky had never blamed Stark for his actions. He’d said as much, and asked Tony’s forgiveness. Bucky also made Tony promise to return, if only to check on his progress.

Somewhere along the way, they’d gotten to know each other, and by the time Steve and Bucky had been reunited (again), Bucky had wanted to sock the punk in the jaw as much as he’d wanted to hug Steve.

Back in the day, if any of Steve’s people had been going off the rails the way Tony had been, Steve would have been right there to support them, make sure they got the help they needed. Hell, from what Bucky had learned, it sounded like Steve had done exactly that for Wanda, the team—including Tony—coming together in an attempt to support and protect her both before and after her actions kicked off the Accords.

When it came to Tony Stark, though, the rules were different. Intentional or not, the Avengers had followed Steve’s lead and decided to act like Tony Stark wasn’t a person, as if his money or his intelligence meant he should rise above his very human reactions to the shitshow that was his life. Tony’s repeated cries for help went unanswered. Worse than unanswered, they were the subject of ridicule, or dismissed with annoyance or antagonism.

Even Tony seemed to think this reaction to him was normal, which was nuts! There he was, ready to forgive Bucky for everything he’d done as the Winter Soldier, but he refused to so much as consider forgiving himself for anything. Ever. It was enough to make you want to cry, but it also went a long way to helping Bucky work through his own grief. They’d sort of worked through a lot of it together.

Bucky wasn’t the same guy he’d been before the war and never would be again, but that was okay. Steve wasn’t the same either. Some things never changed, though; there was always going to be a part of Bucky that was fiercely protective of little guys who stood up for what was right. It was the reason why he found himself standing tall with a shiny new arm around Tony’s shoulders when they were reunited with Steve.

It took a while, but things changed for the better. Seeing how much Tony had helped Bucky made it easier for Steve to stop being a stubborn ass, and recognize the ways in which he had failed someone who was supposed to be his friend, his teammate. They’d all found a new way to work and live and be together, and Bucky considered it a personal victory.

There was only one problem. Somewhere along the way, without him ever intending for it to happen, Bucky had gone and fallen in love. He had no idea when, or why—ladies had exclusively held his fancy as far as he could remember—but for better or worse, his heart had latched onto Tony Stark.

The sweet talking and borderline flirting had already been a fully established thing between them well before Bucky figured out why it was his heart beat faster when Tony was near. There was no reason to think it was anything more than affectionate friendship on Tony’s side of the equation, but Bucky felt the weight of every last endearment. Worse yet, Steve knew it, the observant bastard, and was endlessly encouraging Bucky to go for it.

Once upon a time, Bucky would have swaggered up to Tony and put it all on the line, never mind the fact that he’d never been intimate with a fella. Sex was sex, and it’d be a hell of a lot of fun having Tony help him figure that part out. And if Tony wasn’t interested, sobeit, right? Friends was pretty great, too.

Except, he wasn’t that guy anymore. Maybe he’d never been that guy, because if he was being honest with himself, Bucky could look back and say he’d never been romantically in love with anyone before Tony. The idea of putting it out there and being rejected was too much to handle, and so he kept his feelings to himself, all while falling a little more in love every day.

“Will you look at that?” Tony said, voice cutting through Bucky’s thoughts and making him jump with surprise. “You were right on the money, my little sugar plum! Do me a favor and take a couple steps back?”

“Anything for you, doll,” Bucky answered, meaning every word of it. Ahead of him, a section of the floor slid open to reveal a set of stairs. “Any idea what’s waiting for me down there?”

“No heat signatures or other signs of life,” Tony said, sounding distracted, “but it wouldn’t be the first time HYDRA has snuck one past me. Do me a favor and don’t go down there alone.”

Bucky paused, weapon drawn and aimed at the door waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. “Who’s closest?”

“Our fearless leader. Patching him in now,” Tony answered. “Holler back when you’re done and let me know you’re okay.”

“You got it, baby boy. Barnes out.”

Steve confirmed he was enroute and gave an ETA over the comms, while Bucky watched and waited, finger feeling itchy on the trigger. HYDRA never put anything good behind closed doors, and for Bucky it was always a special sort of agony waiting to find out what they’d discover. More human experimentation? Weapons or plans for weapons that made your skin crawl?

“‘Bout time you showed up,” he grumbled when Steve finally made an appearance.

Down they went, Bucky’s anxiety building up only to break in confusion when they opened the door and discovered nothing more than rows of file boxes. “Huh. Anticlimactic.”

“I don’t know about that,” Steve said, pulling the lid off the closest box and holding up a thick folder. “This could be an information goldmine.”

Smiling to himself, Bucky started doing some rummaging of his own. “How much you wanna bet this is ‘cause they’re scared of my baby? Paper’s a pretty good way to keep Tony outta your business.”

Steve chuckled. “You’re probably right.” And then, because he was a stubborn jerk, Steve swatted at Bucky’s shoulder to get his attention. “How about you deliver these to your baby while we clean up here. You can take advantage of having the compound to yourselves, and finally tell him how you feel.”

Bucky groaned and let his shoulders slump, staring up at the ceiling like it might be able to back him up. “How many times do I gotta go over this with you, Stevie? It ain’t that simple!”

“Sure it is,” Steve insisted. “It’s pretty obvious Tony cares about you, too, Buck. I don’t underst—”

“Caring is one thing, love is another,” Bucky interrupted, slamming the lid down onto his box in a huff. “Tony’s too important to risk losing! I know he’d never stop being my friend, but it’d still change what we have. No matter how sweetly he lets me down, I’d feel that loss all over again every time I looked in those beautiful eyes. He’s… god, he’s essential, like air, Steve, I can’t handle losing him after everything else I’ve lost. Okay?”

Steve reached out to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder. “I get that, honest, I do. But… what if he doesn’t reject you? Think of everything you could gain by telling him the truth.”

“Life ain’t ever worked out for any of us like that before,” Bucky said with a sigh. “No reason for it to start now.”

Bucky let himself be pulled into a hug and even felt a little bit better by the time Steve let up. “The two of you deserve some happiness. Just… think about it, okay?”

“Fine,” Bucky grumbled. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. That’s all I’m asking,” Steve said, handing Bucky a box before heading for the stairs. “I’ll see you back at the compound.”

Taking a deep breath, Bucky started loading himself up with boxes, but then remembered his promise and thumbed the comms. “Hey, baby boy,” he said, getting no response. Still juggling boxes, Bucky fussed with the comms one more time, heard a little burst of static, and then tried again. “Tony, baby, you there?”

“For you? Always,” Tony answered.

There was a weird undercurrent to Tony’s voice, but probably that was Bucky’s imagination. Considering the conversation he’d just had, he was willing to bet the strangeness was all on his end. “Get your scanning software warmed up, doll, I’m coming in hot with mountains of paper, all for you.”

“You always bring me the best presents,” Tony purred. “I’ll see you when you land. Hurry back, but fly safe, soldier.”

Bucky smiled as the words washed over him. “You got it, baby boy.”

As he loaded up one of the Quinjets and headed back to base, Steve’s words played over and over in Bucky’s mind. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’d think about it—all he ever did was think about telling Tony how he really felt. Bucky had a whole collection of exceptionally pathetic fantasies involving sweeping Tony into his arms, kissing him senseless, and having his love returned. Some days, Bucky was even able to convince himself that Tony might welcome the confession, but reality had a way of making itself known, and reminding him of how dangerous hope was.

And sure enough, Bucky’s heart lurched as he landed the Quinjet, because there Tony was, waiting for him. As good as he looked in the fancy suits, Bucky liked Tony best when he was dressed down, like he was at the moment. T-shirt and jeans and an old MIT hoodie looked good on the man. Unfortunately, Tony was also sporting a cast on one leg, which was why he’d stayed behind in the first place.

“You’re s’posed to be resting up,” Bucky shouted as he headed down the ramp.

Tony grinned. “I am! Look, I’m using the stupid crutches and everything.” He shook one in the air as if to prove his point. “Can’t expect me to stay inside when I know you’re out here, strutting around in your leather.”

Bucky laughed at this and put a bit more swagger in his step as he crossed the distance between them. Tony’s smile was a sight for sore eyes, made Bucky’s blood pound dangerously and his fingers itch. God, but what he wouldn’t give for the chance to touch. Not that he kept his hands off of Tony as it was, but the sort of touching Bucky had in mind very much required consent.

Instead of following through and kissing Tony breathless the way he wanted to every time he saw the man, Bucky stopped and dropped an innocent kiss on Tony’s forehead, instead.

“Miss me?” he asked, winking.

“Yeah,” Tony croaked. As Bucky watched, something shifted in Tony’s expression. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I miss you any time I don’t have eyes on you.”

Bucky’s stupid heart was still racing. Unable to help himself, he brushed a bit of Tony’s hair back from his forehead. “Is that a fact?”

“It is,” Tony said. He was staring up into Bucky’s eyes with an intensity that seemed out of step with their normal, playful banter. It made all the hairs stand up on the back of Bucky’s neck in alarm. “Bucky, I…”

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, but even as the words were leaving his lips, everything fell into place in his mind, the answer to his own question coming to him in a flash.

The comms. The fucking comms. He’d signed off verbally when talking to Tony, but had never actually disengaged them, too distracted by the creepy crawls the HYDRA base was giving him. Coming back up the stairs, he’d thought he was thumbing the comms back on, but Tony hadn’t heard him because he’d actually turned them off. Which meant Tony had heard everything else, the entire conversation between him and Steve and…

“Oh,” he whimpered. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. “You weren’t s’posed to hear that.”

A warm hand cupped the side of his face, prompting Bucky to open his eyes again. Tony’s eyes were wide, and there was a bit of fear there in them, but nothing like pity or disgust, which was something at least.

“Yeah,” Tony admitted. “I didn’t mean to snoop, honest! It’s just that I worry about you when I’m not there to watch your back.”

Bucky dug up a smile, covered Tony’s hand with his own, turning to press a kiss against his palm. “It’s fine,” he said, feeling anything but. Cold had washed through his body from the top of his head down to his toes, leaving him oddly numb. “Tony, you don’t have to—”

He’d always wondered what Tony’s lips would feel like. Soft, warm, insistent. They were pressed against Bucky’s own, cutting off his words. Bucky heard Tony’s crutches fall to the ground, but the sound seemed to come from very far away. Tony was holding onto him with both hands now, holding on tight as if worried Bucky might try to run away, holding on as if he never wanted to let go, and that was…

Bucky made a strange, strangled noise as his mind caught up with what was happening, and unable to help himself, he kissed back like he’d never get another chance. Finally wrapped his arms around Tony, wound his fingers through the man’s hair, sighing into his mouth as the kiss went on and on and on.

Somewhere along the way, Tony started talking, disjointed words spoken against Bucky’s lips. Things like, “Do you have any idea?” and, “Wanted this for so long,” and, “I love you, too, Bucky.”

Bucky could probably be excused for lifting Tony up off the ground and spinning him in a circle. He held on tight, giddy with relief and happiness, couldn’t seem to let go. Didn’t want to.

“You mean it, baby boy?” Bucky asked, unable to help himself, smiling like a goon.

The look in Tony’s eyes said it all, but the words were awful nice to hear, too. “I’ve meant every word of it. Felt this way for a while, but I’ve been scared, too. I might have some abandonment issues.”

Bucky stroked Tony’s cheek and kissed him again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, baby boy,” Bucky said. “You’re stuck with me for the rest of my life.”

Tony grinned wolfishly. “I can handle that. I kind of love you like crazy, Bucky Barnes.”

“I kind of love you, too, Tony Stark.”

And because he could, Bucky swept Tony up into his arms, leaving the crutches behind as he carried Tony back inside to celebrate the new direction their lives had just taken.

“To invent your own life’s meaning is not easy, it’s still allowed and I think you’ll be happier for the trouble” - Bill Watterson

~ dezinformatsia

[ AO3 | Imagine… Fills ]

#prompts #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #dezinformatsia #criminal minds #sweet talk #post-civil war #Anonymous

[symbianosgames]

In the opening minutes of Tokyo 42, you’re accused of murder and have to flee your cramped flat with a stampede of bullets hot on your tail. Before long, you find yourself hustling to survive in the cloud-piercing heights of its futuristic city. You get to know a network of criminals, who help you chase down a way to clear your name, which ironically leads you to actually commit crimes, and lots of them. 

The gameplay loop found in this open, isometric world will be familiar to anyone who has played Grand Theft Auto. You can free-roam to figure out escape routes and sightlines to use later, find hidden unlockables, or simply enjoy scenes of flying cars set against colorful tower blocks.

When it’s time to get down to business, you accept a mission, trading dangerous favors for weapons and cash. As well as the expected gang shootouts, there are assassination missions, parkour challenges, and the occasional stealth operation. 

There's plenty to do in Tokyo 42, not just in terms of upping the numbers - missions completed, items collected - but more commendably in how it's so open to playful experimentation. The two-man team behind it have spent their time trying to design a city that fosters player expression.

Whether that's in providing a choice of weapons, architecture that asks to be traversed in unconventional ways, or AI crowds that fluctuate between predictability and surprise. It's a game that invites replays simply to toy with its systems, for new combinations of its systems often reveal new ways to beat each goal, some of them not even anticipated by its creators. Their journey to get the game to this state has been a lesson in how to find balance amid disorder.

For the most part, Tokyo 42 prefers not to tell you how to play - it wants you to experiment with its missions, to try out different routes, tactics, and weapons. It’s in giving you this liberty that the game earns its replay value. When you finish Tokyo 42, you unlock a terminal that lets you access all the story missions you’ve completed, so you can try out other ways to beat them. It’s a feature that proves developer SMAC Games understands the lasting appeal of the game it’s made.

But here’s the surprising part: Tokyo 42 wasn’t even conceived as a single-player game. It started out life as a demo for a multiplayer deathmatch level. “I feel like that demo we came out with was pretty well polished and gave a pretty good impression of what the game would feel like,” says Maciek Strychalski, the art half of SMAC Games.

“I think we would have probably run with that multiplayer set up with a few extra levels if we hadn’t met Mode 7 at this game dev event called Interface. I think the polish made a good impression at the event, and we basically walked away with a publishing deal.”

Mode 7 is the developer of turn-based strategy game Frozen Synapse, the football spin-off Frozen Cortex, and is currently working on Frozen Synapse 2. The team, while small, has pedigree when it comes to visually striking and highly-replayable tactics games. Tokyo 42 is its first venture into publishing, but that didn’t sway Strychalski, who says “it felt like they would best understand what we would need to get it done.”

One of the first agreements between developer and publisher was that the multiplayer demo would need a single player mode to accompany it. The reason was simple: “we couldn’t guarantee a healthy multiplayer community in an unreleased game,” says Strychalski.

The multiplayer idea they had to work with saw players hiding from each other amid the city’s scenery, blending with crowds to move between cover, and then jumping out to get the kill - a bit like an isometric version of Spy Party. 

The stealth part, the gunplay, and a feline companion called Trackacat which detects hidden enemies, was all there from the start. With that as a basis, Strychalski worked alongside Sean Wright, the coding half of SMAC Games, to give Tokyo 42 an open world for players to roam. 

“Since we wanted to make an open world single player, it became obvious to us that the game lent itself to the multiple approach style of play that you find in the latest Metal Gear Solid,” says Wright. “The idea from our side was to set up the mechanics in such a way that various approaches would achieve your goal equally well in any generic mission setup.”

A typical mission in Tokyo 42 has you enter a restricted area, which is full of patrolling armed guards, and take out a target at the top of a building. You could run in there, guns blazing, dodging bullets as if you were playing a shoot-’em-up - the slow-moving projectiles can make it feel like a twin-stick shooter.

You could play it as a cover shooter, crouching behind low walls and using varying terrain height to your advantage. You could climb to the top of a nearby building and shoot the target from afar. You could sneak past the guards, either taking them out along the way or leaving them alive. You could lure a rival gang in from the other side of the city and have the two sides do battle. These are only the most obvious approaches - there are many more to explore.

As the pair of developers were trying to balance lots of moving parts, there wasn’t much time for level design and testing, and so spontaneity played a role in that department. Either Strychalski or Wright would have an idea for a set piece and so they’d construct the architecture around that. It might be a building with an obvious side path to sneak down, or a high point built for sniping - but sometimes the way the spaces correlated opened up new, unexpected opportunities.

“The fun part about this is that we allowed certain spaces to interact with others so gameplay paths would often appear unexpectedly at a later stage once some new content would come in,” says Strychalski. “For instance, I’m always searching for a new sniper perch to clear the way on some of the enemy-dense levels.”

Here, you can start to see how Strychalski and Wright would build an area and then play around in it to see what was the most fun thing was to do there. Their discoveries sometimes changed the game itself - finding out how fun the game was as a bullet-hell shooter had them open up some spaces - as well as helped them to design the missions.

It’s a process that involves being playful and open to ideas rather than careful planning and precise execution - mistakes were sometimes made, but they couldn’t go back on them, “instead opting to use those mistakes and move forward,” says Wright.

While the pair usually had a vague idea of what could be done in a space while building it, it was only when they started testing AI and pathing that structure would emerge. “It’s the AI that brings the game to life, and as much as we discovered things with the city design, the AI would constantly surprise us with what they would do,” says Strychalski. 

“So, for instance, we might lay out a mission with the intention to funnel aggroed enemies through a choke point, but instead they would run to some obscure cover zone far away and start sniping and throwing long-range grenades. Those sort of things would later be integrated into the mission (if the AI agreed, that is).”

The AI is what excites Wright the most. When he first started getting into game development with Unity, he was struck by its component-based model, and adopted it to develop the AI for Tokyo 42. “Each enemy AI will have at any one time up to about 10 script components on it - one for pathing, one for ballistics, one for cover, one for emotions, etc,” Wright explains. “Depending on the agent’s circumstances, the scenario is interpreted by all of these discrete scripts and depending on a dynamic weighting of priorities some update ticks each will take prevalence over others.”

“The script has a host of configuration variables too - for example the cover script has values for the allowed height offset to filter nearby cover zones to choose from, as well as a radius within which to search for cover. These are either standardized, set depending on a specific situation, or randomized within an acceptable degree of uncertainty.”

Keeping hold of that uncertainty became very important to Tokyo 42 as it allows for diverse behavior in the enemies. Even now, Wright sometimes finds himself questioning how an AI enemy figured out a certain tactic or maneuver. “I like where it’s at and see it as a sort of harnessed chaos,” he says. It’s an apt way to describe how the entire game is held together.

You can’t expect every player to get to grips with “harnessed chaos,” though, and so what SMAC did was to add tutorial missions to the start of the game. They’re kept simple, and unlike other missions in the game, they tell the player exactly how they should approach them. One introduces sniping, another crowd blending to lose heat, a third has you sneak up on your target with a katana. 

“The first few missions are mostly there to introduce the common controls of the game,” says Strychalski. “Also just so players know these features exist because Tokyo 42 has quite a rich control scheme and there’s a couple of things that are really needed in tougher fights. For instance the way we’ve implemented grenades, whilst rad, uses a new design pattern which players have to get used to.”

After that, the only way that SMAC tries to influence playstyle - apart from level design - is with small challenges in some of the missions. These might be to take the target out with a melee weapon or to complete the mission without being spotted by the enemy. “We realized that some of the missions can be easily powered through or stealthed through whilst the alternate path is trickier,” says Strychalski. “This variance changes from mission to mission. So we really wanted some mechanism that would ask players to try out some of things we’d designed in.”

He adds that he sees those extra challenges as a way to please players who want to max out what Tokyo 42 has to offer. Some of the challenges are made particularly tricky with those dedicated players in mind so that they have interesting challenges to pursue once the game is over.

Outside of the missions, SMAC has added other small touches to tempt players to extend their stay with the game’s single player. One of those is the Nemesis system. Once you’ve angered one of the game’s gangs, they’re likely to send an assassin after you, and the brilliant part is that you don’t know who or where they are. “You’ll hear the tell-tale gong of a Nemesis spawning and suddenly you’ll start inspecting the crowds around you for suspicious behavior - much like the multiplayer,” says Strychalski.

There are also lots of secrets hidden in the environments in Tokyo 42 for you to hunt down. Many of them are weapon and cosmetic unlocks, signified by a spinning symbol, just out of reach. You can spend a lot of time trying to work out how to reach them.

Another type of secret is influenced by the Where’s Waldo? checklists that give you certain sights to hunt down in each scene. “There are a bunch of tiny things happening out there in windows and hidden around,” says Wright. “For instance, there’s a dude in some apartment having a crazy Frozen Synapse session.”

Of course, if and when the single player of Tokyo 42 does run its course, then you can jump into the multiplayer mode. SMAC has some plans for that in the future, too. “We have been discussing some other modes that further make use of what we learned [during development] and made for the single player,” says Strychalski. “So we’ll see if we can somehow get these modes in.”

#IFTTT #Blogger

[iftekharsanom]

Logan's Costume Changes In Every Phases Of Wolverine Movie (Best to Worst)

Logan hit cinemas now, there has never been a better time to obsess mutant symbol "Wolverine" was that says "bub". In this article, the goal is to focus on the segments. Wolvie, played by Hugh Jackman 99% of the time and Troye Sivan following X-Men Origins opening: Wolverine had his fair share of facts during his long life, big screen, tasteless Natty up. The black leather is how it all started, with the first X-Men fun movie "yellow spandex" a snarky line of dialogue. Years later, the legend came very close to a U-turn this. And, interestingly enough, the trend of super leather suits dropped a good deal over the same period. Each is the favorite Logan of his 17-year career in the theater they seek, and have decided to sort the suit are the signature of each film and some of the other notable ensembles that have appeared only a brief. Here, each costume is rated best Wolverine film getting worse. 1. YELLOW SPANDEX! (The WOLVERINE Scene Deleted)

And finally a little trap: never again see the yellow comic copy on the big screen, because it was in favor of cutting the Wolverine, the last part of the film, rationalize. First Yukio that Logan's suit is on the level before the final credits: Logan opened a suitcase, threw Technicolor clothes and raised an eyebrow at Yukio. The scene can be seen on YouTube. It may not be an officer, then the garrison, but this is something of pure beauty. After all the uniforms, leather jackets and misaligned Western magic, it is a pleasure to see what would stand the position of a purist comic about Wolverine costume in the form of live action. Maybe one day, when Logan's role is a makeover and extravagant costumes have become acceptable as a miracle, we see Wolverine with all his yellow glory on the big screen. James Mangold is not really interested in it, so if it ever happens, it will not be for a while. However, this fact is not used - with all its beautiful textures and precise comic colors - it is the best you will get.

2. Look worn Jacket (X-MEN)

As much as the original leather uniform was great, he gave us not to say as a sign about Logan as Professor X, who gave him too late X-Men. No doubt used before the Hugh Jackman costume which, when introduced correctly after the topless fighting cage, is more important. The first appearance of the film Wolverine consisted of a brown leather jacket, denim jacket, an old brown shirt and black shirt. It also has an old West-esque belt and worn jeans. (It's no different than your Logan cowboy costume actually.) It's a well maintained and outdated whole, suggesting that Logan is a man who does not care much about his appearance, and gently hinting that it was more than expected. When Logan first encounters Vampira, with her in the bar among puffs on his cigar grunts, you immediately get a sense of who that person is. It could be great fight, but you have nothing to fight. Not important enough. The clothes he wears help give that impression. The first action was of great importance Wolverine - I set the tone for the character, his cinematic journey of 17 years always started on the right foot - and is also one of the best.

3. UNIFORM LEATHER FIRST (X-MEN)

Bryan Singer's first 2000 Wolverine X-Men divisor uniform, is certainly still the best they've come with. Along with the cast of the Jackman role, Wolverine redefined for a film group. The animal was short and yellowish rage comics gone, and instead an Australian actor was 6'2 '' a mysterious amnesiac with claws and a leather suit suit. The idea was to tie the yellow jacket inspired to do enough to show that the filmmakers and designers were not playing thoroughly the comic canon. Two on the neck, one on each handle and the belt buckle: Hammered was this respect for the home material of no less than five X symbols. In addition, shoulder and arm padding in this first uniform is more like that of a motorcycle jacket, the useless-to-the-love-of-it texturing that came after. This is the costume that made the movie buffs Wolverine serious, and made sure that the comic book fans were kept happy. A master clock, actually. 4. All Black ALL (THE WOLVERINE)

Nothing says "this is waste cooler and less than the last Wolverine movie 'enough to make its protagonist in a black suit plonking everyone.What is surprising is how well it works because it sounds so extravagant as old socks On paper, as a deliberate attempt to make the film look grumpy and grown up. The reality of Hugh Jackman all in black, Wolverine Sport slightly flattened hair, claws stained with blood, is really unbelievably cool. He catered very well to the idea of Logan as a samurai and separates the effect of heavy leather vest / vest glasses we had seen before. Logan's views on a suit and tie should be shocking, but in fact it's one of the less grating elements of The Wolverine. It is certainly a better idea of the villain to give a shiny mech silver suit. This elegant selection is ideal for Japanese expedition Logan's suit, and his funeral reflected the dark morbid (though ultimately uncooked) morbid themes about Logan's desire to die and the death that follows.

5. Future Game (X-Men: Days of Future PAST)

The Board decided to pay the leather X-Men: Days of Future Past, designed a really amazing Wolverine costume run. Instead of the elegance of the old uniforms, Jackman has a promise of more tactical appearance that seems to be a bit more bulletproof than elegant. It has metal parts, and padding protection. It looks ready for battle. It also has blue and yellow manga, provides a return to the cartoon and cartoon series. Longtime character fans have a kick out of this design decision, and creates a brighter than the previous films of the X-Men, without compromising the integrity of Wolverine sand suit compromise. Unfortunately, it was not much with the future version of Wolverine. He was sent back to the past and then accused of lying to the rest of the film. But even this action is a great mix of cinema, realism and color comics. 6. SECOND LEATHER UNIFORM (X2: X-Men United)

What a difference a belt buckle makes. In many ways - the black color, textured shoulder pads, yellow lining - this is the same suit he wore Hugh Jackman X-Men: The Last Stand. But the X2: X-Men United version somehow manages to be much better. The differences are minimal, but they make a big difference. A yellow X badge on the belt buckle adds a bit more fun and a bit of respect to the comic show, and it looks like it could be different shades that are used in black leather sections. The X through Pecs Jackman certainly seems to be a bit more than he did in the next movie. The yellow lining also goes a little farther, shoulders, arms and abdomen accentuate more than the latest version of the brace. X2 is undoubtedly the best film X-Men Wolverine Magistrale in terms of material and has a strong fit equipment.

7. snazzy shirt and jacket 70S (X-Men: Days of Future PAST)

A suit does not always have a deep and meaningful history to win our hearts. Sometimes, just look as cool as hell. This is the ambience that 1970's Wolverine costume shines on in X-Men: Days of Future Past. It's really just a generic suit period, but Ronin's evil takes it so well. After all these years in black Hugh Jackman watch uniforms, waistcoats and leather jackets, it was a shock to the system to see something as colorful and playful as this. The funk standard shirt, collar collar, humungous belt and funky buckle is a striking phrase. If you with some of the finest hairstyles of the franchise and clutches of Pre-Stryker bone match everything, you have a really impressive look. In this film, change in the past have focused on, changing Jackman in the past was a real highlight.

8. SANS COWBOY (Logan)

For reasons that do not leave spoiler reasons to protect Western films - especially film Shane George Stevens 1953 - play a major role in Logan. Wolverine, of course, he always had the air of a lonely old western gunslinger in him, and Logan makes some interesting ones about this idea of building moves. One way to do this is, Logan dressing up with the outfit - a black T-shirt under a royal blue shirt under a brown jacket, literally score on a cowboy display. It does not choose to resign, but if you ever choose Logan this equipment, it can be read as growing as a sign. In addition to his dull workwear, Logan decides to dress up as a cowboy conscious. Unwritten words, but the implication is that he is willing to embrace a heroic identity. There can not be an X-Man, but you can still do good in the world. They may not be the most prominent Logan topics, but what makes this set represent important.

9. WOLVERINE Weapon X (X-Men: Apocalypse)

Except for the X-Men: First Class Cameo Bar and footage of Hugh Jackman's face in Deadpool, this scene in X-Men: Apocalypse, the shortest time Wolverine spent on screen in a X-movie. Was imitating the sketch created by this brief carnage. The city, with red eyes, the filmmaker must be intriguing looked but experimental comic readers recognized as an allusion to comic book Weapon X written in 1991 and illustrated by Barry Windsor-Smith. It is a simplified version of the suit as drawn - Comics to contain an integral head helmet with a Cyclops-like eye window - but the number was evident. In terms of practicality, it is discussed just one step up from the jeans-on-a-suit vest. You have to worry about the poor Wolvie when it works in the snow will use only a few cuts, a harness and a technical device. But still, it looks good. And that's the main thing, is not it?

10. GENERIC WORKWEAR (Logan)

It's something to see incredibly sad, Logan dressed in a poorly washed shirt and an ill fitting jacket, his hair and beard scruffy. It's like seeing an old friend at work unchanged and scruffy stumbled, the morning after a Christmas party at the office, which got out of hand. Except, of course, Logan is the whole society that has gone a little wrong. Here is the iconic hero Hugh Jackman is in a constant state of hangover line work even more difficult could not be created. There are only mutants, the X-Men have cartoon characters, and the most powerful heroes on Earth had come down to get a normal job. Working for Uber post-apocalyptic is a depressing life in Logan's big screen chapter, and this is the carefree and glamorous suit you fit. It may not be cool, but it's perfect for the opening of the latest Wolverine look grim movie. 11. UNIFORM LEATHER THIRD (X-Men: The Final Clash)

Best official uniforms Wolverine this is the especially gentle number of X-Men:. The Last Stand It is painfully simple, looking almost identical to all others with its black color and unnecessary textures around its shoulders. Beast, short lines and a proper X sleeves emblem have the only decent uniform on the film. The rest of the team gets the same standard edition of the gummy garbage, with the least hint of color for some of the seams. Wolvie had a yellow chest X, for example, but it's subtly that can only be seen in the finished film. Undoubtedly, this is the point when Leathersuits feel fresh stopped. Could have something a little more colorful things lively but fans had to wait until X-Men: First Class to. However, it is a fine line between the precision of modern comics and stepping acceptance. Purple Horror Psylocke X-Men: Apocalypse definitely proved that it can go too far towards the comics as The Last Stand showed that the source material can ignore for a long time to be annoying.

12. The view of LUMBERJACKMAN (X-Men Origins: Wolverine)

He is a woodcutter and well, his wife was not killed by mistake today. Undoubtedly the best Wolverine worst film costume (as the rest of his X-Men leather jacket never looked good), this tree-block set says a lot about the state of Logan's psyche at this point in the movie. For the first time Logan is at peace when in the woods. He works hard for a peaceful, working trees instead of cutting people for a change. It is in the garden of nature and really has a purpose in bleeding. Good for him. The plaid flannel shirt may mean a bit about the shape of the nose that since they were pictures of Logan felled trees enough would take away the view. However, it has grown to look great and significant than a vest, jeans or dress. Another easy for cosplayers, too.

13. COWBOYS and a jacket (other films)

One step up a half-suit team is another incredibly common look for Logan: Combined Jeans and Vest that if counted the minutes of the entire franchise, there may be more than the current X-Men uniforms are worn. A hand for lazy people, it is also very easy for fancy parties to recreate. That's exactly why this fact with the character has become synonymous with a bit of mystery. Maybe it's because it presents the hero Hugh Jackman as a humble man who likes beer among the superpowers to sit spectacular on a plateau with a few cans. Or maybe it's because it's cheap to repeatedly play for the costume department with additional blood splashes and bullet holes per movie. Curiosity: X-Men: The Last Stand, seems to have its own Wolvie vest of renewable energy. They were called peaks in the forest for life, ripping holes in their beloved huge piece of sleeveless clothing, but in the next scene, the holes disappeared. Or Logan has super powers or carries a spare. 14. Only minimal equipment (other films)

It would be at least a free topless scene Hugh Jackman a Wolverine movie without. Pants, but nothing about what is the most common form of filmmakers in his X-Film without shirt shirtless goat, but you could forget the time that the whole pig was and had a completely naked Logan lake alkaline leak and jump into a waterfall In X- Men Origins: Wolverine? The look of the denim shirt is not just a suit, but it is worn so many times that it has been the inclusion here worthy. And what is lacking in style and protection against the elements, the balanced over the laundry costs. Is performing heart surgery on himself at Wolverine, after his scars on Logan, and shot several times, after a bed of air on the license X-Men-Wolverine successfully changed his dry cleaning functions on numerous occasions: Days of Future Past opting to get rid of his shirt for a scene or two. He is the best at what he does and what he does is his abs.

15 Children's Dress (X-Men Origins: Wolverine)

X-Men Origins: Wolverine began his inelegant to delegitimize his previously enigmatic protagonists from the outside, with Troye Sivan the role of an opening salvo save sum, the too many whining incredibly fast climbing patricide disease inadvertently. You must have noticed the choice of clothing for this young James Howlett, which contributed significantly to the feeling that the opening of Wolvie was eroded. Yes, before immortal Wolverine was in the heart of the aggressor X-Men, who was a child who needs a white pajama haircut and a red robe. You see, even if it lacked you severely cold, the story was to show how James was different before the journey began his hero. To be called before the Weapon X program came, he was just an ordinary young man; Able to wear and wear adorable nightwear and kill his father like the rest of us.

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[symbianosgames]

In the opening minutes of Tokyo 42, you’re accused of murder and have to flee your cramped flat with a stampede of bullets hot on your tail. Before long, you find yourself hustling to survive in the cloud-piercing heights of its futuristic city. You get to know a network of criminals, who help you chase down a way to clear your name, which ironically leads you to actually commit crimes, and lots of them. 

The gameplay loop found in this open, isometric world will be familiar to anyone who has played Grand Theft Auto. You can free-roam to figure out escape routes and sightlines to use later, find hidden unlockables, or simply enjoy scenes of flying cars set against colorful tower blocks. When it’s time to get down to business, you accept a mission, trading dangerous favors for weapons and cash. As well as the expected gang shootouts, there are assassination missions, parkour challenges, and the occasional stealth operation. 

There's plenty to do in Tokyo 42, not just in terms of upping the numbers - missions completed, items collected - but more commendably in how it's so open to playful experimentation. The two-man team behind it have spent their time trying to design a city that fosters player expression. Whether that's in providing a choice of weapons, architecture that asks to be traversed in unconventional ways, or AI crowds that fluctuate between predictability and surprise. It's a game that invites replays simply to toy with its systems, for new combinations of its systems often reveal new ways to beat each goal, some of them not even anticipated by its creators. Their journey to get the game to this state has been a lesson in how to find balance amid disorder.

For the most part, Tokyo 42 prefers not to tell you how to play - it wants you to experiment with its missions, to try out different routes, tactics, and weapons. It’s in giving you this liberty that the game earns its replay value. When you finish Tokyo 42, you unlock a terminal that lets you access all the story missions you’ve completed, so you can try out other ways to beat them. It’s a feature that proves developer SMAC Games understands the lasting appeal of the game it’s made.

But here’s the surprising part: Tokyo 42 wasn’t even conceived as a single-player game. It started out life as a demo for a multiplayer deathmatch level. “I feel like that demo we came out with was pretty well polished and gave a pretty good impression of what the game would feel like,” says Maciek Strychalski, the art half of SMAC Games. “I think we would have probably run with that multiplayer set up with a few extra levels if we hadn’t met Mode 7 at this game dev event called Interface. I think the polish made a good impression at the event, and we basically walked away with a publishing deal.”

Mode 7 is the developer of turn-based strategy game Frozen Synapse, the football spin-off Frozen Cortex, and is currently working on Frozen Synapse 2. The team, while small, has pedigree when it comes to visually striking and highly-replayable tactics games. Tokyo 42 is its first venture into publishing, but that didn’t sway Strychalski, who says “it felt like they would best understand what we would need to get it done.”

One of the first agreements between developer and publisher was that the multiplayer demo would need a single player mode to accompany it. The reason was simple: “we couldn’t guarantee a healthy multiplayer community in an unreleased game,” says Strychalski. The multiplayer idea they had to work with saw players hiding from each other amid the city’s scenery, blending with crowds to move between cover, and then jumping out to get the kill - a bit like an isometric version of Spy Party. 

The stealth part, the gunplay, and a feline companion called Trackacat which detects hidden enemies, was all there from the start. With that as a basis, Strychalski worked alongside Sean Wright, the coding half of SMAC Games, to give Tokyo 42 an open world for players to roam. 

“Since we wanted to make an open world single player, it became obvious to us that the game lent itself to the multiple approach style of play that you find in the latest Metal Gear Solid,” says Wright. “The idea from our side was to set up the mechanics in such a way that various approaches would achieve your goal equally well in any generic mission setup.”

A typical mission in Tokyo 42 has you enter a restricted area, which is full of patrolling armed guards, and take out a target at the top of a building. You could run in there, guns blazing, dodging bullets as if you were playing a shoot-’em-up - the slow-moving projectiles can make it feel like a twin-stick shooter. You could play it as a cover shooter, crouching behind low walls and using varying terrain height to your advantage. You could climb to the top of a nearby building and shoot the target from afar. You could sneak past the guards, either taking them out along the way or leaving them alive. You could lure a rival gang in from the other side of the city and have the two sides do battle. These are only the most obvious approaches - there are many more to explore.

As the pair of developers were trying to balance lots of moving parts, there wasn’t much time for level design and testing, and so spontaneity played a role in that department. Either Strychalski or Wright would have an idea for a set piece and so they’d construct the architecture around that. It might be a building with an obvious side path to sneak down, or a high point built for sniping - but sometimes the way the spaces correlated opened up new, unexpected opportunities.

“The fun part about this is that we allowed certain spaces to interact with others so gameplay paths would often appear unexpectedly at a later stage once some new content would come in,” says Strychalski. “For instance, I’m always searching for a new sniper perch to clear the way on some of the enemy-dense levels.”

Here, you can start to see how Strychalski and Wright would build an area and then play around in it to see what was the most fun thing was to do there. Their discoveries sometimes changed the game itself - finding out how fun the game was as a bullet-hell shooter had them open up some spaces - as well as helped them to design the missions. It’s a process that involves being playful and open to ideas rather than careful planning and precise execution - mistakes were sometimes made, but they couldn’t go back on them, “instead opting to use those mistakes and move forward,” says Wright.

While the pair usually had a vague idea of what could be done in a space while building it, it was only when they started testing AI and pathing that structure would emerge. “It’s the AI that brings the game to life, and as much as we discovered things with the city design, the AI would constantly surprise us with what they would do,” says Strychalski. 

“So, for instance, we might lay out a mission with the intention to funnel aggroed enemies through a choke point, but instead they would run to some obscure cover zone far away and start sniping and throwing long-range grenades. Those sort of things would later be integrated into the mission (if the AI agreed, that is).”

The AI is what excites Wright the most. When he first started getting into game development with Unity, he was struck by its component-based model, and adopted it to develop the AI for Tokyo 42. “Each enemy AI will have at any one time up to about 10 script components on it - one for pathing, one for ballistics, one for cover, one for emotions, etc,” Wright explains. “Depending on the agent’s circumstances, the scenario is interpreted by all of these discrete scripts and depending on a dynamic weighting of priorities some update ticks each will take prevalence over others.”

“The script has a host of configuration variables too - for example the cover script has values for the allowed height offset to filter nearby cover zones to choose from, as well as a radius within which to search for cover. These are either standardized, set depending on a specific situation, or randomized within an acceptable degree of uncertainty.”

Keeping hold of that uncertainty became very important to Tokyo 42 as it allows for diverse behavior in the enemies. Even now, Wright sometimes finds himself questioning how an AI enemy figured out a certain tactic or maneuver. “I like where it’s at and see it as a sort of harnessed chaos,” he says. It’s an apt way to describe how the entire game is held together.

You can’t expect every player to get to grips with “harnessed chaos,” though, and so what SMAC did was to add tutorial missions to the start of the game. They’re kept simple, and unlike other missions in the game, they tell the player exactly how they should approach them. One introduces sniping, another crowd blending to lose heat, a third has you sneak up on your target with a katana. 

“The first few missions are mostly there to introduce the common controls of the game,” says Strychalski. “Also just so players know these features exist because Tokyo 42 has quite a rich control scheme and there’s a couple of things that are really needed in tougher fights. For instance the way we’ve implemented grenades, whilst rad, uses a new design pattern which players have to get used to.”

After that, the only way that SMAC tries to influence playstyle - apart from level design - is with small challenges in some of the missions. These might be to take the target out with a melee weapon or to complete the mission without being spotted by the enemy. “We realized that some of the missions can be easily powered through or stealthed through whilst the alternate path is trickier,” says Strychalski. “This variance changes from mission to mission. So we really wanted some mechanism that would ask players to try out some of things we’d designed in.”

He adds that he sees those extra challenges as a way to please players who want to max out what Tokyo 42 has to offer. Some of the challenges are made particularly tricky with those dedicated players in mind so that they have interesting challenges to pursue once the game is over.

Outside of the missions, SMAC has added other small touches to tempt players to extend their stay with the game’s single player. One of those is the Nemesis system. Once you’ve angered one of the game’s gangs, they’re likely to send an assassin after you, and the brilliant part is that you don’t know who or where they are. “You’ll hear the tell-tale gong of a Nemesis spawning and suddenly you’ll start inspecting the crowds around you for suspicious behavior - much like the multiplayer,” says Strychalski.

There are also lots of secrets hidden in the environments in Tokyo 42 for you to hunt down. Many of them are weapon and cosmetic unlocks, signified by a spinning symbol, just out of reach. You can spend a lot of time trying to work out how to reach them. Another type of secret is influenced by the Where’s Waldo? checklists that give you certain sights to hunt down in each scene. “There are a bunch of tiny things happening out there in windows and hidden around,” says Wright. “For instance, there’s a dude in some apartment having a crazy Frozen Synapse session.”

Of course, if and when the single player of Tokyo 42 does run its course, then you can jump into the multiplayer mode. SMAC has some plans for that in the future, too. “We have been discussing some other modes that further make use of what we learned [during development] and made for the single player,” says Strychalski. “So we’ll see if we can somehow get these modes in.”

#IFTTT #Blogger

[symbianosgames]

In the opening minutes of Tokyo 42, you’re accused of murder and have to flee your cramped flat with a stampede of bullets hot on your tail. Before long, you find yourself hustling to survive in the cloud-piercing heights of its futuristic city. You get to know a network of criminals, who help you chase down a way to clear your name, which ironically leads you to actually commit crimes, and lots of them. 

The gameplay loop found in this open, isometric world will be familiar to anyone who has played Grand Theft Auto. You can free-roam to figure out escape routes and sightlines to use later, find hidden unlockables, or simply enjoy scenes of flying cars set against colorful tower blocks. When it’s time to get down to business, you accept a mission, trading dangerous favors for weapons and cash. As well as the expected gang shootouts, there are assassination missions, parkour challenges, and the occasional stealth operation. 

There's plenty to do in Tokyo 42, not just in terms of upping the numbers - missions completed, items collected - but more commendably in how it's so open to playful experimentation. The two-man team behind it have spent their time trying to design a city that fosters player expression. Whether that's in providing a choice of weapons, architecture that asks to be traversed in unconventional ways, or AI crowds that fluctuate between predictability and surprise. It's a game that invites replays simply to toy with its systems, for new combinations of its systems often reveal new ways to beat each goal, some of them not even anticipated by its creators. Their journey to get the game to this state has been a lesson in how to find balance amid disorder.

For the most part, Tokyo 42 prefers not to tell you how to play - it wants you to experiment with its missions, to try out different routes, tactics, and weapons. It’s in giving you this liberty that the game earns its replay value. When you finish Tokyo 42, you unlock a terminal that lets you access all the story missions you’ve completed, so you can try out other ways to beat them. It’s a feature that proves developer SMAC Games understands the lasting appeal of the game it’s made.

But here’s the surprising part: Tokyo 42 wasn’t even conceived as a single-player game. It started out life as a demo for a multiplayer deathmatch level. “I feel like that demo we came out with was pretty well polished and gave a pretty good impression of what the game would feel like,” says Maciek Strychalski, the art half of SMAC Games. “I think we would have probably run with that multiplayer set up with a few extra levels if we hadn’t met Mode 7 at this game dev event called Interface. I think the polish made a good impression at the event, and we basically walked away with a publishing deal.”

Mode 7 is the developer of turn-based strategy game Frozen Synapse, the football spin-off Frozen Cortex, and is currently working on Frozen Synapse 2. The team, while small, has pedigree when it comes to visually striking and highly-replayable tactics games. Tokyo 42 is its first venture into publishing, but that didn’t sway Strychalski, who says “it felt like they would best understand what we would need to get it done.”

One of the first agreements between developer and publisher was that the multiplayer demo would need a single player mode to accompany it. The reason was simple: “we couldn’t guarantee a healthy multiplayer community in an unreleased game,” says Strychalski. The multiplayer idea they had to work with saw players hiding from each other amid the city’s scenery, blending with crowds to move between cover, and then jumping out to get the kill - a bit like an isometric version of Spy Party. 

The stealth part, the gunplay, and a feline companion called Trackacat which detects hidden enemies, was all there from the start. With that as a basis, Strychalski worked alongside Sean Wright, the coding half of SMAC Games, to give Tokyo 42 an open world for players to roam. 

“Since we wanted to make an open world single player, it became obvious to us that the game lent itself to the multiple approach style of play that you find in the latest Metal Gear Solid,” says Wright. “The idea from our side was to set up the mechanics in such a way that various approaches would achieve your goal equally well in any generic mission setup.”

A typical mission in Tokyo 42 has you enter a restricted area, which is full of patrolling armed guards, and take out a target at the top of a building. You could run in there, guns blazing, dodging bullets as if you were playing a shoot-’em-up - the slow-moving projectiles can make it feel like a twin-stick shooter. You could play it as a cover shooter, crouching behind low walls and using varying terrain height to your advantage. You could climb to the top of a nearby building and shoot the target from afar. You could sneak past the guards, either taking them out along the way or leaving them alive. You could lure a rival gang in from the other side of the city and have the two sides do battle. These are only the most obvious approaches - there are many more to explore.

As the pair of developers were trying to balance lots of moving parts, there wasn’t much time for level design and testing, and so spontaneity played a role in that department. Either Strychalski or Wright would have an idea for a set piece and so they’d construct the architecture around that. It might be a building with an obvious side path to sneak down, or a high point built for sniping - but sometimes the way the spaces correlated opened up new, unexpected opportunities.

“The fun part about this is that we allowed certain spaces to interact with others so gameplay paths would often appear unexpectedly at a later stage once some new content would come in,” says Strychalski. “For instance, I’m always searching for a new sniper perch to clear the way on some of the enemy-dense levels.”

Here, you can start to see how Strychalski and Wright would build an area and then play around in it to see what was the most fun thing was to do there. Their discoveries sometimes changed the game itself - finding out how fun the game was as a bullet-hell shooter had them open up some spaces - as well as helped them to design the missions. It’s a process that involves being playful and open to ideas rather than careful planning and precise execution - mistakes were sometimes made, but they couldn’t go back on them, “instead opting to use those mistakes and move forward,” says Wright.

While the pair usually had a vague idea of what could be done in a space while building it, it was only when they started testing AI and pathing that structure would emerge. “It’s the AI that brings the game to life, and as much as we discovered things with the city design, the AI would constantly surprise us with what they would do,” says Strychalski. 

“So, for instance, we might lay out a mission with the intention to funnel aggroed enemies through a choke point, but instead they would run to some obscure cover zone far away and start sniping and throwing long-range grenades. Those sort of things would later be integrated into the mission (if the AI agreed, that is).”

The AI is what excites Wright the most. When he first started getting into game development with Unity, he was struck by its component-based model, and adopted it to develop the AI for Tokyo 42. “Each enemy AI will have at any one time up to about 10 script components on it - one for pathing, one for ballistics, one for cover, one for emotions, etc,” Wright explains. “Depending on the agent’s circumstances, the scenario is interpreted by all of these discrete scripts and depending on a dynamic weighting of priorities some update ticks each will take prevalence over others.”

“The script has a host of configuration variables too - for example the cover script has values for the allowed height offset to filter nearby cover zones to choose from, as well as a radius within which to search for cover. These are either standardized, set depending on a specific situation, or randomized within an acceptable degree of uncertainty.”

Keeping hold of that uncertainty became very important to Tokyo 42 as it allows for diverse behavior in the enemies. Even now, Wright sometimes finds himself questioning how an AI enemy figured out a certain tactic or maneuver. “I like where it’s at and see it as a sort of harnessed chaos,” he says. It’s an apt way to describe how the entire game is held together.

You can’t expect every player to get to grips with “harnessed chaos,” though, and so what SMAC did was to add tutorial missions to the start of the game. They’re kept simple, and unlike other missions in the game, they tell the player exactly how they should approach them. One introduces sniping, another crowd blending to lose heat, a third has you sneak up on your target with a katana. 

“The first few missions are mostly there to introduce the common controls of the game,” says Strychalski. “Also just so players know these features exist because Tokyo 42 has quite a rich control scheme and there’s a couple of things that are really needed in tougher fights. For instance the way we’ve implemented grenades, whilst rad, uses a new design pattern which players have to get used to.”

After that, the only way that SMAC tries to influence playstyle - apart from level design - is with small challenges in some of the missions. These might be to take the target out with a melee weapon or to complete the mission without being spotted by the enemy. “We realized that some of the missions can be easily powered through or stealthed through whilst the alternate path is trickier,” says Strychalski. “This variance changes from mission to mission. So we really wanted some mechanism that would ask players to try out some of things we’d designed in.”

He adds that he sees those extra challenges as a way to please players who want to max out what Tokyo 42 has to offer. Some of the challenges are made particularly tricky with those dedicated players in mind so that they have interesting challenges to pursue once the game is over.

Outside of the missions, SMAC has added other small touches to tempt players to extend their stay with the game’s single player. One of those is the Nemesis system. Once you’ve angered one of the game’s gangs, they’re likely to send an assassin after you, and the brilliant part is that you don’t know who or where they are. “You’ll hear the tell-tale gong of a Nemesis spawning and suddenly you’ll start inspecting the crowds around you for suspicious behavior - much like the multiplayer,” says Strychalski.

There are also lots of secrets hidden in the environments in Tokyo 42 for you to hunt down. Many of them are weapon and cosmetic unlocks, signified by a spinning symbol, just out of reach. You can spend a lot of time trying to work out how to reach them. Another type of secret is influenced by the Where’s Waldo? checklists that give you certain sights to hunt down in each scene. “There are a bunch of tiny things happening out there in windows and hidden around,” says Wright. “For instance, there’s a dude in some apartment having a crazy Frozen Synapse session.”

Of course, if and when the single player of Tokyo 42 does run its course, then you can jump into the multiplayer mode. SMAC has some plans for that in the future, too. “We have been discussing some other modes that further make use of what we learned [during development] and made for the single player,” says Strychalski. “So we’ll see if we can somehow get these modes in.”

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