#it's merely for gifs and edits and all that fun stuff

[floufli]

Admit It

Chapter 2 : Consequences (5k)

Summary:

Before the whole "multiverse collapsing" thing, everything was going pretty smoothly for you. As Spider-woman, you saved people, beat up villains and lived an calm and uneventful civilian life. But everything seemed to have changed the moment one boy was bitten by some radioactive spider. Now, the villains you faced have become more active, and always seemed to disappear before you could deliver them to the police. One day, you manage to finally catch the trail of the ones that kept stealing your catches, only to be left to discover another facet of your life waiting for you.

Will this end well for you? You could only hope so. But you are perfectly okay with risking it all, after all, that "Miguel" got one hell of an ass to make up for it.

Tags:

Miguel o'hara x fem!reader, violence, 18+ MINOR NON FRIENDLY SO HOP HOP GET OUT OF HERE, future tags

Chap: (1)

MasterList

Don't copy to another site or I'm gonna be big mad >:C and don't feed to AI obviously

Author notes:

Doing this instead of doing exam stuff related. Tried do to 3k didn't work now take this 5k and the smutty bit . I wanted to put Miguel's POV but it would have been 7 or 8k so it'll be for next chap.

I'll probably edit it later bc there're parts I find weirdly written but anyways-

Why did I do that already? Ah! Yeah! I remember, to " not miss all the fun". Silly me... HOW IS THAT FUNNY???

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT !!" You screamed at the top of your lungs as you almost immediately regretted going through that damned portal. One second you were walking onto a nice- beautiful even, concrete floor, and the next you got yourself propelled into a way too colorful void that made your eyes hurt.

Why does everything they have must be so bright? Does it not make their head hurt, like, please??

But right as of now, you thought the colorfulness of this new environment to be one of your less important problems. At least for now.

You were more concerned as to where you were actually heading, a slight panic running through your body as you realized you had no control whatsoever over your direction or speed. You didn't mind not knowing where you were going to land, no problem, but you would prefer not to crash into a building- or even better the ground, at 100km/h.

Quickly asserting the situation, you tried to take as much information as you could. Looking around yourself, you could observe ass you traveled into what could be a sort of invisible tunnel, if an invisible tube could be called a tunnel, it kind of defeats the whole purpose of the tunnel but anyway. Although you could see some kind of geometrical forms that set the global shape of the way, like guides that allowed the tunnel to go the right way.

The feeling almost made you sick. Sure swinging around was something you now excelled in, but being moved around so much that you lost sense of up and down was now something you dread to experience again.

That's something I'll never get used to. You thought as your eyes tried to find something to anchor yourself before you could throw up your last meal.

Thanks to whoever designed this thing, the experience was quite short, even if quite extreme. In only mere seconds after your entry into the portal, you were back in the real world. And not this weird in-between dimension that threw your senses off.

As much as you were thrilled for the experience to be over, your eyes stung at the bright lighting at the end of the way. But you got no time to rest and recover properly your vision. The moment your body went through the blinding light, gravity suddenly seemed to reappear, pushing you down toward the ground. Acting by instinct at this point, you let your body react by itself as it reoriented itself so you would land carefully on your two feet, and not head first.

" Ah.." You sighed, appreciating the comforting weight of gravity. You raise to your full height, arms by your side, you let your eyes take as many details around you as they could, while your ears tried to assert if there were any threats nearby.

That's a pretty big elevator.

Your eyes were amazed by the sight you were met with. By just looking from side to side, you could see the breathtaking, future-like sight behind the thick protection glass. Incredible buildings stretched so far up into the deep blue sky that you almost could believe your own eyes. How was it even possible? That must be some kind of dimension that's set well into the future for it to be so technologically advanced.

The scenery was pure beauty, roads were spreading around each building like a gigantic snake, embracing each gap and swirling in the place. And unlike your world, those were set up in the sky, allowing an astonishing field of green to surround the whole city.

OH.MY. ARE THOSE FLYING CARS?!

It was still hard to tell from this distance, and knowing that the elevator was actually moving upwards, but you could swear those cars looked weird as fuck.

…Wait, they definitely were flying...there wasn't any road for them to be on ??!

Too caught up in your own excitement, you didn't notice the three people waiting with you while the elevator moved. Running towards one of the glass windows you almost pressed your face against it to better examine this completely new view. But you quickly dismissed the idea once you saw that the elevator was in fact just a platform and putting your face against the window would result in your face being squished down along the elevator's movement.

Wait that's weird... why is everything upside down?

It took you a good minute to realize that your entire vision was in fact upside-down and that your body was in fact dangling into the void, only kept from falling by your talons. Despite the fact that the spikes on your feet were considerably huge, it seems like you didn't notice them piercing into the platform's ground.

Thanks, weird spider instincts. You thought amused, it would have been quite embarrassing if you had landed just for you to fall down because you couldn't spot that the gravity was inverted.

Parting from the glass, you looked behind you. Three different pairs of eyes met your own. You almost let a laugh escape your lips when you saw the scene, stopping yourself last second, but unable to help the smile on your lips.

While the two other Spiderwomen- you guessed you could call them like that for now, were standing perfectly straight on their feet despite the gravity trying to pull them down, Vulture was dangling weirdly, only hold back by the firm grip of the youngest Spider. Seeing something falling upwards wasn't really common in your job, as you almost never let yourself be put in a taught enough situation that would force you to be left head down.

Vulture wasn't as pleased as you were on another note. His face was one of pure worry as he frequently stared at the girl holding his restrained body and then the abysmal void separating him from the bottom of the building. You could almost catch beads of sweat sliding profusely from his now pale face.

"Enjoying the view?" The woman asked with a smile of her own, all the while she was playing with something on her watch-like device. From her relaxed brows, everything was going as usual for her. This told you a lot about the situation as a whole; if they were really who they pretended to be, fellow Spider-Men from; different universes, then they could be many more than just these two and the “Miguel” from before.

“Yeah, flying cars are not really a thing at home. This view is really something to behold.” You stated breathily, even if you didn’t know them- not even their names you realized, you could let your guard down, you could feel it.

It had been so long since you felt this safe.

Not having to worry about enemies coming to stab you in the back, always looking out for people's betrayals, it really was refreshing to say the very least. A much-needed break indeed.

“Miguel’s dimension is surely more advanced than most of ours, that’s for sure!” The woman laughed as if amused by your almost pure reaction to the scenery. Just as she finished doing whatever she was doing with her watch, the elevator started to slow down, and you walked up to where they were currently standing- waiting to arrive at your destination.

But just as you were about to stand before them a sudden vague of pain came through you. The feeling, despite short-lived, left you breathless, contorting in pain, you lost your balance and almost fell to your knees. But weirdly you didn’t.

It was as if you were shredded into pieces, and while you tried to scream, you could hear the bugged sounds that came out of your mouth. You really felt like a scratched disc that kept coming back to one scene over and over.

Thankfully, it went away as quickly as it came. You were now crouched down just next to the older woman, who had lowered herself in the meantime you were out. Now extending her arms, presenting you with a sort of elastic bracelet.

“Shit! I’m so sorry girl, that completely slipped out of my mind. There put this one on, it will stop you from doing that again, I know it’s not the best feeling.” She said to you, expression full of remorse while you quickly put on the thing.

“ That’s for sure..” You breathed, “Shit, that fucking hurt ugh-” You straightened yourself while she stayed near in case you needed help, but in mere seconds you were back to full form.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry again, a lot of things to do at the same time and you weren’t on today’s agenda.” Just as she finished her sentence, the elevator came to a stop, it’s lack of a door allowing you to fully take in the view in front of you.

“But don’t worry, Lyla will give you a real Goober since Miguel asked her to, you should have it soon enough.”

You didn’t pay as much attention as you probably should have to her words, too focused on observing the impossible scene.

There were so many Spider-Men and Spider-Women everywhere.

But you didn’t get the chance to admire them more, the two women and their package were already well ahead of you, still in the elevator.

Oops, wait for meeee!!

You quickly took off towards them, but still, let ourself look around the bright alleys. They were covering almost every centimeter available, from the floor up to the ceiling, thanks to the Spider capacities they surely possessed too.

You jogged behind the two women, avoiding the Spiders that came in your way while saluting the ones that acknowledged you.

“Jessica, do you bring us a new one? Does Miguel knows about that one?” A voice came from your right, a Spider-Man, his suit a deep red and light blue. He seemed to have been talking with others, but your presence must have caught his attention.

How does he even know I’m new here? WE ALL LOOK THE SAME. HOW?

“YES AND YES PETER.” The woman, Jessica, answered without missing a beat, walking unfalteringly toward a gate a bit farther into the ‘main’ way.

The other spider let go almost immediately after her answer, going back to his previous discussion.

“Don’t worry, they are all pretty chill when you get to know them.” The young girl spoke while you continued to look around, catching your attention.

“Yeah, since we’re all Spiders from different dimensions I figured we must be the nice guys I guess. I shouldn’t be too worried about them trying something.” You nodded, and the youngster laughed softly at your response.

“I could even present you some, I’m sure you could get along just fine with Hobby.” She continued as you all entered a darker zone of the building, the atmosphere changing immediately. It even smelled different from the main hall.

The scent is different here but it feels off. Like there’s something behind it? You took a long inspiration. It’s not strong but I can definitely smell something.

It smells pretty good too. Like a subtle mix of pine and oak, just strong enough to pick on but not too overwhelming either.

Hell, it smells divine.

As if in a trance, you followed while they approached different cells-like containers, each filled with what you could recognize as a villain from your own dimension, except slightly different.

Jessica stopped before what looked like an inactivated cell, pushing some sort of code into a nearby panel while the girl approached and put down the Vulture right in the middle of the device that served as the cell’s base.

The moment he left her arms the cel activated, a bright purple hue commit to completely encapsulated him, leaving him unable to leave.

“ They wait here before we send them back to their own dimensions,” The girl said as she pulled down her mask, before pointing toward another room, behind some control panels. “ We got a supper-and-absolutely-not-scary giant spider robot that scans their DNA before sending them back. Super effective.”

“Totally humane and professional.” You completed as you began to see white appendages leaving a hole you didn’t notice in the ceiling, red yes soon following as the gigantic thing came out to work on the prisoner that was just scanned.

Yep! Not scary! Not scary at all!

Quickly, you turned around before you could witness anything more this spider thing was about to do, and chose to follow the two women, staying closer to the girl that seemed more eager to talk.

“I’m Gwen between, I’ve not been here for much longer than you don’t worry, only a month or so. So I know what it feels like at first.” She tried to reassure you, that was easy to tell. But you weren’t stressed, or at least not as much as you think you should have been.

It’s weird. Since I smelt the scent I feel almost at ease.

But there’s more to it, I can feel my entire body heating up.

…Don’t tell me they got some strange laboratory things going on in there and I’m the only one affected… That would be so embarrassing.

You could feel your face heating as you walked. You chatted calmly with the Girl after introducing yourself, and she seemed eager to talk to someone, but inside, you were screaming. It was beginning to be difficult to breathe with your mask, the scent becoming stronger and stronger as you approached a somber room with a sort of platform attached to a metallic arm that stretched into the darkness.

It’s dark enough here, I should be able to pull it off without dying from a headache.

Mimicking the actions of the girl, Gwen, from moments prior, you raised your hand to pull your mask off swiftly, a sigh of pure satisfaction leaving you as the cold air of the room hit your burning face.

I hope I'm not too red or I'll need to make something up.

Thankfully no one seemed to notice your very much cherry-colored face, possibly due to the low lighting of the room to begin with.

Get your hormones in check for fuck's sake.

"Everything's alright here?" Jessica asked as she could tell something was visibly bugging you from the frown on your face.

"Yeah, Yeah everything's good. Just trying to take in all the new info you know?" You answered quickly, but not without missing the curious face Gwen threw your way.

Your eyes went back to Jessica, she was next to the control panel now, and just as she had been doing all the way here, she taped some code on the display. But this time, a holographic figure appeared just next to her.

"Hey, Lyla!" The girl next to you greeted cheerfully the hologram. Wait, THEY HAVE ADVANCED AI TOO?

"Hi Gwen, what's up? Still, sticking with poor old Jess? Miggy still hasn't let you go alone on a mission?" The yellowish woman asked, her form teleporting just next to the girl in question.

"You already know the answer to that Lyla-" Gwen answered, defeated, "I'm ready, at this point I'm just waiting for SOMEONE to tell him that I'm ready too."

The glare she threw at Jessica couldn't be missed, even if you tried, her eyes full of expectations but only met with blank ones.

"Hey it's not my job to babysit, I will have plenty of work when this one will be there," She said while pressing her hand on her belly," If you're sooo ready just go and tell him you are. That shouldn't be difficult for someone as good as you." She finished, a wicked smile playing on her features, obviously teasing the girl.

The two continued their own playful arguing, you could only stand by and watch, at least until the AI- Lyla apparently finally noticed you.

"OH! YOU'RE THE NEWBY MIGGUEL SAID TO MAKE THE GIZMO FOR!" The hologram appeared right in your face, causing you to jump in surprise. She looked like a twenty-something years old woman, a short brunette, and she smiled at you friendly.

"Yeah, I guess that's me..." Everything was starting to become a bit too much for you, having enhanced senses had its pros and cons, and being easily overwhelmed was one of them, and the strange but pleasant scent that invaded your mind didn't help your body to calm down.

"Good, I'm sure you got your own Spidey things to do so we're gonna be brief." She said happily, moving around with way too much energy for such a little thing. "Take that first, it's way better than the daily pass you have right there."

A bracelet similar to the one you saw on the two women materialized in front of you, and you quickly reached out to catch it, not wanting it to break.

Pulling off the elastic bracelet from your right arm, you rapidly replaced it with its metallic counterpart. Up close, you could see the amount of detail and work that went into the item's conception, from the small display to the multiple buttons there and there.

"We'll teach you how to you it don't worry, it's not that hard when you know what to do." Lyla declared confidently, from her proud expression, she must have been the one designing the item.

"But first-" Jessica turned from Lyla to face you.

"-First we'll explain to you everything that has happened." Lyla cut off, earning an angry look from Jessica.

Finally. You thought. it's not like I came here for that in the first place but kinda.

Suddenly the whole room became pitch black, and a beam of white light rose from the middle of it, urging you to come closer. The beam began to take the form of a tree, and from there you could only listen as both Jessica and Lyla explained to you the story of this organization.

"These webs linked us all together," Jessica started, "And one year ago, a gap was left in it, allowing people from one dimension to enter another, those we call anomalies."

"And if we don't do anything, all the worlds could be destroyed."

Waving goodbye to your new colleagues, you stepped into the portal after making sure it was set to your dimension. The trip wasn't as bad as the first, since you were now expecting the whole floating part, but still, it will definitely need to be improved.

When you landed, you were surprised to see yourself in your flat, in the middle of your living room. Almost falling to your knees in relief for the day to FINALLY be over, you caught yourself last second, instead falling face-first into your sofa.

Your body was aching everywhere and you could already feel the headache in your temple, the distinct throbbing enough to let a painful whimper escape your lips.

Need to shower and put this off.

After inhaling heavily, to prepare yourself mentally for the pain to come, you finally rose to your two feet and headed to the bathroom. You took your sweet time undressing, delaying as much as you could the moment the cold air of the room would touch your sensitive skin.

Your flat was modest, and so was your bathroom, you didn't have a very big salary at your local job, and doing Spider-Woman exploit didn't pay shit. Free work all along and still some people got the nerve to hold it to you when you made the slightest mistake.

'Go on take the work' You had wanted to yell more than once. But deep down you knew no one would take your place if it meant going through what you did to have this kind of powers.

As you managed to get most of your suit off, you couldn't but notice the smell that came from off of it. The same as the one in that place in the HQ building. Miguel's 'office' would you had learned it to be. The memory of the man's face still vivid in your mind.

Poor guy, he really lost everything he had. And I can't imagine the amount of guilt he has accumulated over time from that.

And still despite your kind words you couldn't help your body's reaction the moment your eyes met the sculpted body of your new boss. At this moment you thanked every god and goddess you knew the name of to have made this room so dark. If you think you were feeling kind of hot before, then now you were burning from the inside out, everything felt ten times as what you were used to. Sounds, images, odors, everything was multiplied and allowed you to sense almost everything that was going on inside and outside the room.

But it was useless, as your eyes only seemed to see interest in this Miguel's divine complexion.

And damn if your suit didn't make your body heat up once more. Chills ran through your entire body, your talons and fangs starting to stretch despite the fact you didn't want them to. You desperately tried to control yourself, tried to let go of the fabric in your hands, but it seems your body wasn't cooperating. Instead, your hand rose the piece of fabric to your face, allowing you to smell the full fragrance still enclosed in its fibers.

"Shit-" You hissed, as one of your hands grabbed the edge of the sink, your legs were starting to give up on you. You didn't feel this aroused in- hell you've never been this turned on in your entire life and that's saying something about yourself right now. Why was it happening now? It wasn't nearly as bad when you were there, it should have calmed down and not worsened!

You could only let yourself fall on your knees in an attempt to calm yourself, maybe the coldness of the tiles would help? Well, it didn't. Now you could hear a cracking sound coming from above and below you, your talons and claws surely pushing the ceramic of the sink and the tiles to its limit.

As embarrassing as the whole thing was would feel yourself growing soaked, your entire core on fire, waiting for something you weren't sure only your fingers could provide. But your resolution to control yourself started to falter.

So while your nose was still buried deep into the fabric, mouth agape while you inhaled the divine sent, your other slowly caressed your body, starting by your neck, luckily your claws still retracted the moment they touched your skin. You tried to imagine how his body would feel below yours, how his fingers would feel against your skin, would they be rough or smooth? Oh- What you could do to this man at this instant.

Your hand was now on your breasts, your hand easily englobing the mound of flesh, playing with it just the way you liked, causing small moans to escape your drooling mouth. Your hips began to move with a mind of their own, swinging back and forth against nothing, the feeling at your core begging to be too much.

Leaving your other breast without giving it the same attention, you let your hand make its descent towards you screaming for attention vulva. You breathed heavily into your suit, both yours and his scent mixed making your mind go crazy.

"Fuck-Ah!" You jumped as your fingers first made contact with your aching clit, the simple touch almost enough to immediately send you over the edge. Your whole body was tensing now, waiting for something to release the unbearable tension.

Tentatively, your finger started to play around with your sensitive clit, sending powerful waves of pure pleasure through you that left your mind practically blank- except for the image of this beauty of a man panting below you.

Hips grinding on your hand, chasing for more, you allowed one finger to begin spreading your wet folds, sighting in relief when a new sort of pleasure overwhelmed your senses.

But still, it wasn't enough, you were fully moaning into your suit while three fingers worked hard on spreading you and your hips still grinded hard on your palm, trying to get as much stimulation as you could.

You had the picture perfectly painted in your head, mimicking your current depraved act, you would be riding that man until he'd beg you to stop, or until you were fully satisfied. He would look so good with tears in his eyes, you thought, the constant brows on his face as its appeal but god- what would give out to be the one making sure he was milked until there was nothing much he could give you. 

You licked your dried lips at the thought, your tongue brushing slowly upon your bared fangs. You panted heavily, sensing your orgasm approach way faster than usual, the familiar tightness in your core becoming more and more unbearable, but promising a delightful end for all the torture it had been.

You curled on yourself when you grinded particularly hard on your clit, provoking a shockwave that made on fall on the floor of the bathroom. You must have been quite the sight, ass up in the air, hand pushing your suit in your face, all the while you now grinded with a desperate thrust into your hand.

Shit-shit-shit!!

Your entire frame tenses when your orgasm finally hit you full force, the hotness of your core spreading across every centimeter of skin, up until your face. Instinct taking over, you let yourself sink your teeth deep into the fabric still pushed in your face, and the moment your fangs sank in completely, you could feel your own venom ooze out of them.

"Ah AH-" You tried to muffle your sound but to no avail. Fingers still moving against and inside you, you tried to make the few waves of pleasure last as much as you could, even if it meant overstimulating you a tiny bit. After the last bit of pleasure eventually faded, you stayed immobile for a few more minutes, struggling to comprehend what exactly had just happened.

What. The. Fuck. Was. THAT?

Still slightly out of breath from your previous activity, you slowly rose back up, wincing at the feeling of your fingers leaving your leaking cunt. Sitting on your knees, you tried to assert the situation.

You looked intensely at your wet hand, your mind still not processing everything that just happened, as if it had been totally disconnected, leaving your body to be ruled solely by primary and animalistic instincts.

You stood up, not without faltering for an instant, where you incredible sense of equilibria when you needed it?

"Okay. Okay. That is just horny me, no need to think about it. It's just the Sider DND going berserk because of a pretty guy." Your reasoning was strong, at least you thought it to be, just enough to convince you would surely do the work. Looking up into the mirror about your sink, you stared at yourself, hand grabbing its edge with way too much force, causing your fingers to go white and a small crack to appear.

You looked absolutely disheveled, your already not very tidy hair now tangled in a messy patch of color. Your eyes were bloodshot red, your pupils still dilated, taking over most of your eyes, leaving no place for its original color to sip through. Along with you still, open mouth and bared fangs, your shoulder moving up and down in rapid breaths.

You looked monstrous, quite literally. If someone were to see you like this, it would be more than understandable if they suddenly took off running, fearing for their life. You seemed ready to attack anything that come your way, but you could help to find a certain charm to your current state. Sure you looked savage, but the good kind of savage.

Hell, you even though you looked pretty hot like that.

Turning on the sink you quickly rinsed off your hand, a sudden wave of fatigue shutting you down. You then took a quick shower to rinse off any residue of dirk of concrete from today's work, along with the last proofs of your own excitement.

In less than fifteen minutes you were out of the shower, patting yourself dry, and getting ready for bed after throwing your suit in the washing machine before the smell would get you to do this again-and it almost made you sad to know that the only piece of this sent would be gone. Leaving the bathroom after opening a window to evacuate the fog, you stepped into your leaving room for a quick dinner, nothing too fancy.

You took from the fridge some leftovers from this afternoon, some rice along with a small piece of marinated fish, which will be more than enough. You ate at your own pace, not bothered by the clock ticking, reminding you of today's day of work. When you finished, you took out your phone, making sure you didn't forget to activate your alarms.

You entered your bedroom languidly, the darkness of the room comforting you, and with eyes as sensitive as yours, seeing in the dark was included in the package. Putting your phone to charge and the watch thingy- a Gizmo you had learned, o the night table, you throw yourself into the smooth and soft sheets of your bed.

As you found a comfortable position to fall asleep, your mind went back to what today had taught you, memories of all the Spider-men and women invading your mind, and fatally- the image of this Miguel you didn't even know as you watched him lose everything he had.

What a shitty person I am for having this kind of thought toward that poor guy.

Your eyelids were now starting to feel heavy, and before you could react your eyes closed on their own accord, your conscience beginning to drift away.

Thought shutting down as you began to fall asleep you could help but come back to what you saw at the HQ, but this time without the guilty feeling, thanks to being half-asleep.

But he got that cake... Bigger than me.. that's for sure... 

Tag list : (tell me if you want to be added/deleted)

@stany0url0calwh0res111 @mira-dystopiancore @smotheredinlighterfluid @vvitcxen @st4rrlighttt @mstozierr @maxi-ride @miguelsmainb @autismsupermusicalassassin @bluevenus19 @jenniferdixon05207 @candlewitch-cryptic @ahoeformyself @rxionv

#fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel x you #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #x you #x reader #reader #fem!reader #you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fic #atsv #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel x fem!reader #x fem!reader #female reader #spiderwoman reader #jessica drew #gwen stacy #spiderman #spiderverse spoilers

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Film Friday: Pacific Rim

My last Film Friday got devoured by the Needs To Finish Editing beast. I figure it's time to get back on it or the Can't-Be-Arsedosaurus is going to devour this habit entirely. Today I have my mind on my monsters and my monsters on my mind, so let's talk a bit about monsters, Kaiju to be more precise, and the giant robots that fight them in Pacific Rim

So earth is being invaded by giant semiaquatic lizard monsters called Kaiju, which is a bad time for all involved except possibly the Kaiju . Instead of devolving into secterian violence and short-sighted ass covering, however, humanity takes the NERV approach to the problem and builds some goddamn giant robots called Jaegers to show the aliens that humanity is not going down without a fight. It is, however, not easy for a regular-sized human being to pilot one of those darn things, and to lessen the load of the body-melding technology that makes it all work, each giant robot has not one, but two pilots, working in hopefully perfect tandem.

The most interesting part about Pacific Rim for my money is how absolutely confidently the movie establishes and delivers its world building. The entire setup in the above paragraph is delivered in the start of the movie, and there's very little dwelling on any of it. Other stories would've had ponderous origin stories or lengthy exposition that they desperately try to justify by having characters walking, or ideally running, and talking, or having a character that just don't know anything about anything.

Not pacific rim though, it sits you down and goes "Ok, here's the shit you need to know and some symbolism to boot, now things gone screwy and Our Guy needs to do some hero stuff." It's perhaps not the Saving The Cat-approved approach, but you know what? I admire how TCB it is, it seems like Guilermo Del Toro really wanted to get to his giant robot story, and didn't want to waste any time to get there.

In general, the movie is full of efficient storytelling like this. The Drift, which is to say the shared mind state that the pilots enter to control the Jaegers is an instant character backstory revealer, allowing both the characters and the movie as a whole to spend less time on it. No need to wonder what the hell Mako's problem is, we saw a montage about it just a few seconds ago, and both the characters and we know that there is a difference between knowing what a problem is and knowing how to deal with it, so there's no real drop in the interpersonal drama because of it either.

Anyway, I have gone WAY too long in this here essay about the Giant Robots Fighting Godzilla-movie without talking about either at any length. So, let's get nerdy on it why don't we. The Kaiju vs Jaeger scenes are spectacular, the Kaiju designs are all fun and unique but visually unified enough that they very much read like a united force. It does, admittedly, stretch the suspension of disbelief that these monsters are all unique and yet get custom names mere seconds after being spotted, but I like to believe there's one Kaiju nerd in the cellar of the Shatterdome whose sole job is coming up with code names for the monsters.

As for the Jaegers, I will say this is the closest a bipedal combat robot big enough to use a cargo ship as a wooden sword has come to making sense. The VFX and especially compositing is excellent for the time it was made, and there's some very real-feeling weight to how they move and some close-enough-to-real physics to their abilities and weapons that makes them feel very present. The same is true for the Kaiju, but we've seen giant godzilla monsters pull that trick off before, so it's not so impressive although I will admit the fight scenes do benefit from both parties feeling like they belong.

If I may diverge from my usual formula here, I feel I must say this, and this seems like as good a place as any. Holy fuck is this movie a blessing for the bisexuals in the audience. Charlie Hunnam and Rinko Kikuchi, playing protagonists Raleigh and Mako respectively, are attractive people, hope I'm not blowing anyone's minds there, but their chemistry in this movie is just Something Else, and it's honestly developed in a way that I see way too seldom.

It isn't just that they're good actors doing good work either, although I'd argue they are, but a question of being given good material. There is a relationship between these two, this, I would claim, is unambigious. That said, exactly what these two are to each other can be curiously hard to pin down. I still can't tell if it's romantic, sexual or platonic in nature after many re-watches, but whatever it is, it's great and intense in a way that's hard to describe. In some ways they even seem a bit like rivals, like how Raleigh sasses Mako for disproving of his sparring partners and Mako shooting back that it's Raleigh's bs she's disapproving of. In a lesser movie, this would've been awkward or played out with a joke. In this movie, which is great, our two heroes duke it out in a sparring match that is charged with some kind of energy that, if nothing else, tells us that these two will either make each other better or way way WAY worse

Actually, while we are talking about queerness, let's keep it up for a spell. It isn't explicit, but I personally find the relationship between excitable Kaiju Nerd biologist Dr. Geiszler and choleric stick-in-the mud mathematician Dr. Gottlieb deliciously queer. It could be their impeccable Bernt & Ernie-vibes, as expertly portrayed by Charlie Day and Burn Gorman, respectively, or how they both realize that their goals of understanding the Kaiju requires that they each cede grounds to each other and their respective fields and risk life and limb for each other in an experience that changes them forever. It's not an open-and-shut case as far as I'm concerned, but I like it better when read to be queer, so it's worth a mention.

Before I close, I will indulge in another thing I don't do often. In general I try to avoid arguing with the nitpickers and the plothole brigade of the world because that's an endless drain on my limited mental resources, but there is one particular such plothole that have been bothering me for a while. At a particularly dramatic point in the movie Mako and Raleigh deploys a retractable sword to deal with a flying Kaiju, which, apparently, has the CinemaSins wannabes of the world pipe up shrilly to ask why they didn't use the sword before in the prolonged Kaiju battle that this exceedingly anime move ends.

The interesting part about this plothole is that there are two good answers to it that coexist in my mind. For one, they didn't need it, as the Jaeger's other weapons did just fine, arguably better than a sword would, and in the time before Kaijus coming out two at a time, running out of ammo for the Big Very Sufficient Plasma Cannon just wasn't a problem. For the other, the world building actually explains this one, as the opening exposition montage mentions that the blood of the kaiju is hazardous and the source of some sort of malady nicknamed Kaiju Blue. Now since this is a movie, punching and kicking yields only small amounts of blood, while swords all but exsanguinate people on the first stroke, so better to stick with punches and kicks and the occasional self-cauterizing plasma burn. Now, as to why our heroes didn't deploy The Anime Weapon a bit earlier in the process of being dragged into the stratosphere, I couldn't tell you. I could argue that the added altitude could make the kaiju blood disappate over a wider area and thus prove less of a problem, but odds are good this one's just for dramatic effect, which I'm honestly fine with.

Anyway, to try to wrap this up. If my gushy, infodumping tone wasn't a clear indication, I love Pacific Rim. It's a movie that doesn't try to self-consciously excuse its genre trappings, it goes "yeah, kaiju, you know those, giant robots you know those, let's have some fun with it." Despite being made out of many familiar parts, it's arranged in a fresh and exciting way, and the joyous love the filmmakers show for the source material goes a long way to making it approachable. This is the greatest translation of old nerdy interests into a fresh new IP since Star Wars, and it makes me sad that it didn't transform the industry in a similar way. It's what nerd cinema should have become in the time of global streaming, but alas, the passionless nerd pandering turned out to be easier to make and, probably, more profitable. Alas, what could have been, I suppose. At least we'll always have that kickass Ramin Djawadi soundtrack.

#peebs recommends #pacific rim #cinema #movie

[bitty-bits]

A Jolly SineTrismas

It surely was another year. Let's look back at some stuff, and forward to other stuff, in the final Bitty Bits edition of 2022.

First of all, happy holidays to all who celebrate. Yeah it is a bit late on the "more famous holiday" side of things, but there are still others going on, and... in general it's probably never wrong to be festive during all of December. (It's also not wrong to NOT be festive! Just pointing that out!)

Many things happened in this late half of the year, controversial things, stupid things, all things. Here I will talk about some that mattered to me, to some extent.

(Also, RIP bozo...naro! Good riddance!)

This issue is dedicated to @rick-666, friend and avid newsletter enthusiast who encouraged me to try to fix the broken ass email form thingy that should actually send these posts as newsletter things but just isn't working! I'll have it fixed next year, I promise!!!!

My Work - Where To Next?

So I've made and tried to make many things through the years, but as someone who pretty much does anything all the time, I'm finding myself often doing... nothing at the end of it.

In 2020 I basically started work on Ketchup Dreams by making its first characters, Bitty and Lake, with more to follow the coming years... but still nothing too substantial. Pondered with which medium to present these characters in. Comics? Animation? In the end I'd just continue adding some things here and there to the overall project, but it still doesn't seem like enough. I really want to build a good universe for these guys to live in.

So at the moment I feel kinda directionless. But hopefully that will change. I guess I won't know what sticks until I actually do stuff.

From Bitty also came the entire aesthetic, motif, symbol, meaning AND name for, I guess you can call my "indie" studio/group/label thing... which my future creative works will be released under, and who knows maybe even friends' creations. The "ᑎᐱ" thing was kind of accidental, but I liked it enough that I wanted it to mean something for me. Not to sound corny and dumb, but to me "ᑎᐱ" is kinda like another representation of the polarity we have in life, much like black and white, but in this case it would be something like... smooth and sharp. Yeah I'm not gonna try to give too much meaning to it, it's just for fun, mostly. Bitty's ears initially were meant to just be bunny + kitty ears (hence the incredibly original name) for an asymmetrical design, but that basically spiraled into everything else.

All that said I'm still doing stuff every now and then, I even have been experimenting with tweaking Lake's design slightly, you can even see a little bit of that in the header art here. More on that some other time...

You can check the current "roadmap" for Studio SineTri projects on the pinned tweet.

Why not "TriSine" instead? Because that just... sounds too normal. "Tri" is an existing and common prefix. Also the order matters.

The Tesla In The Room

I don't think I need to talk much about the whole thing with Elon Musk buying Twitter and everything that came with it. Mostly I'm just tired of it all. Billionaires, other than beings that shouldn't exist, are Boring and not even in a funny kind of way (except for Bill Gates, his mere existence is comedic to me probably thanks to early internet culture) I wish I just didn't have to hear about 'em. But I guess we can't.

Anyways this entire situation practically got me back into being on Tumblr daily, after I had left it in favor of Twitter in like 2015, and now... the opposite is happening, that's just how sick I am of Twitter. Not just the website itself but the people in it and the energy that usually comes out of there these days. Musk was simply a final nail in the coffin. The problem is... he just keeps adding more nails. Here's hoping Elon doesn't ruin the very last thing that made Twitter "fun" to me - TweetDeck, but chances it'll survive are slim.

I'm also on Mastodon btw. Juuust in case.

AI Art Discourse - What's Happening?!

"A Still of Klonoa in The Simpsons"

Speaking of Twitter, probably one of the least pleasing topics to witness over there lately will be this.

No doubt, "AI art" as a concept pretty much exploded into popularity in 2022, while it already existed in concept years before, this was pretty much the one year that, 5 years ago, we'd look at machine learning attempting art and say "now just think about how that'll be 5 years from now", and well, that time IS now. Kinda.

There's legitimate worry about whether or not the computer would be able to replace artists, but... personally I don't think it will ever BECAUSE... there will still always be a demand for humanity and human-created content no matter how good any sort of AI gets, and well, currently AI still struggles with "drawing" many things. But it's fine, earlier this year people were mostly memeing with AI generators, being impressed, confused, having a laugh, or everything all at once.

Until computers making drawings suddenly were no longer seen as cool but rather, bad!!! evil!!! problematic!!! etc. even though the reason for that all stems from... misconceptions and misinformation (sometimes on purpose, just because... I dunno. Internet rewards people who get angry at things.) about how the technology works to begin with. No, AI doesn't simply collage a bunch of pictures together, that just isn't how it works, even if it knows what a Mona Lisa looks like almost perfectly. It's hard to put it into words, but this thread I believe explains it a bit better in simpler terms (hopefully), even if you still don't understand, it's... best to not be too ignorant about it.

Of course, I DO think AI ethics is an important conversation that should happen, but not if it's... not gonna be a conversation in the first place. If it sounds too extreme, reactionary, or sounds just about as crazy as anything you'd hear coming from Alex Jones or like, your pro-life uncle™, then it probably isn't the way to go.

This made even people who think photography isn't art come out of their closets, if they even were in one.

There are good use cases for AI in art. One of them is allowing disabled individuals to also partake and experiment with visual arts. Yes, technically nothing "stopped" them from "really" doing it, but just look at how much that argument almost slips into ableism territory (and there is a surprising amount of that coming from some anti-AI folks.) Hell, I could've used AI to create a background for the art on my header as I'm mostly... a character illustrator, focused on characters, and just don't really enjoy drawing backgrounds much at all.

Anyways I recommend y'all check out AWAY (Are We Art Yet), a collective of artists and creators alike embracing AI but also fighting for more ethical AI usage (discussion about scraping images from the web, consent for works to be used as training data, etc.), without the reactionarism and sometimes ableism. They're a friendly bunch.

What I’ve Been Playing / Watching

Gravity Falls

Well, does it really?

Hey Kids, Have You Heard Of Gravity Falls? The show's 10th anniversary was this year and, having heard mostly only good things about it since then, AND as someone who had recently been sucked deep into the modern Disney TVA pipeline (DuckTales 2017, Amphibia and Owl House are also great and would also recommend), I made it a goal to watch all of it before the year ends.

At first I thought this, like other very successful shows, would have way too many seasons for me to really get into, so I was surprised when I found out that wasn't the case.

It's definitely a great show, even 10 years later. From what I saw very little of it comes across as dated when it comes to references or jokes, the characters being likable and interesting are about enough to hook you into it I think. Also Matt Chapman is in there a lot and as an avid Homestar Runner fan, you can just Tell not only through his voices, but his humor and vibes entirely in some episodes.

If there's one thing I probably can't get enough of is Disney cartoons made by some of the most... Non-Disney people on Earth.

The Dream I Had On December 25th

Usually I share my dreams on Twitter, but decided it might be neat to feature some of the more interesting ones right here. They are an essential part of one of my creations after all. This year though, for a reason or another, I had less eventful or weird dreams in general. But waking up on Christmas day this is what was on my mind:

For more of my dreams you can check out my dream journal with stuff since at least 2014, here.

I had a dream I can split up in three parts - first I was at an old house of mine but I could hear a new trailer for the Mario movie premiering far outside, a classic game song could be heard in it and things pointed to it being a Daisy reveal.

Second part was a Strong Bad thing, where I possibly interact with him directly and actually cause a change to homestarrunner.com "accidentally". He makes some sort of analog horror parody, and an old main page gets a new "feature" permanently. I felt a sense of realization since "I caused this". I really wish I remembered more cuz it was great

Third part is the one I can recall the most, it was what seemed like a weird Gravity Falls AU type thing, which is slightly mixed up with The Owl House - In what appears to be the first episode, Grunkle Stan is nowhere to be found, with probably Eda taking his place as the twins' "Graunt". The episode begins with Mabel just wandering around the forest, when she comes across several typically good luck signs all at once, things like four leaf clovers and such. Eda knowing better knows it's a trap and tries to protect Mabel, but she is convinced that Eda is a witch (which probably Should be a secret at first in this alternate timeline I guess, Eda Is Not What She Seems™) and EVIL!!! and ignores her, acting hostile towards her, even, so Eda locks her up in a shelter. Perfectly normal. In there she finds… a journal. It doesn't appear to be -the- GF journal but rather a mix of that and Philip's journal from Owl House. At first it looked like the journal could talk by itself but someone just happened to be there in disguise, it was Soos, who happens to know a couple things about the journal but probably not much. For some reason I was "watching" it in Portuguese and they'd give him a completely different name, likely starting with a hard C, but I can't remember now. Some weird magic thing happens too which I don't remember how it's triggered or when exactly in the episode progression it even happens but it would make food and candy "infinitely stretchy", where you could essentially have infinite amounts of something just by stretching them, and it caused children to go insane over it. Eventually Soos and Mabel made it out of the shelter, with the latter no longer feeling suspicious about Eda. That's about what I can recall.

Song of the Issue

I will now feature some cool music (probably just vgm) I like here, just because. Sometimes topical, sometimes not.

But today it might be.

A secret easter egg track, on the older 2008 MIDI version of the Charlie (the Duck) II soundtrack (that probably came into existence together with the 2008 Windows version of the game, as opposed to the original DOS version which much like other Wiering Software games only had sound effects, at most.)

It would only play on Christmas day, and was basically a slight arrangement of the proper theme, but with some classic Christmas tunes thrown into it.

The OGG/streamed version you hear on the Steam release cuts the song a bit shorter.

More Stuff

Audicons Fluent/2.0/Name Pending

Inspired by Microsoft's Fluent Design aesthetics and technicalities, this will be an update to my existing icon pack for audio formats, covering even more obscure formats that only 3 people know about! Just like the old pack, this will be fully compatible with probably any version of foobar2000. Very soon!

Ninjin on Archive.org

Yeah!

juke...box. AI. video.

yeah dude.

(no, seriously, it'll come out when it comes out. that's it.)

Miscellaneous Tumblr Side Things

I dunno, I just felt like... having a couple dedicated side blogs for specific interests, as some people do, cuz I have ideas. One of them will be about brazilian animation in general. Nothing fancy or scheduled, just things that will exist.

Conclusion

The more I write the more self-conscious I get that I might just be shit at writing Anything, but I still appreciate if anyone actually likes reading through!

Stay tuned for the traditional yearly dumb highlights collage pic™ on my main Tumblr (@lu9) and Twitter (if it's not completely broken by then...)

Bitty's Message of the Day

My new year's resolution is to Exist more!

#newsletter #personal #preservation

[fromaliminalspace]

For the gif makers ask meme... 14, 16, 34, and 48?

[ask meme link]

14. How long does it usually take you to make a set

for real, while technically i can make a gifset within a day or a few, i have a nasty tendency to procrastinate everything, literally everything, even stuff i actually enjoy. and when i do get around to actually making sth i overthink it. sometimes for months. yup. lbr overthinking (alongside chronic lack of spoons) is the main reason i create stuff so rarely and post it even rarer even if i have it finished for a while. i'm trying to improve, okay..? just gonna kick myself more often into calling things finished and posting them, i literally have dozens of gifset ideas waiting to be executed, several art wips (as well as finished pieces), two videoedit ideas, and quite a few k words of both fic and meta… the tricky part is just to get around to all of it

16. How long have you been making gifs

oof lemme see… in June 2020 i made my first gifs that weren't completely horrible cuz before that i was using merely a phone app for this with video editing software (this and this were made this way). and then in February 2021 i finally figured out what was missing from my PS and preventing me from editing gifs there and fixed it. so yeah, i've been relatively new to this, i guess..? though ngl the experience of very spontaneously making two videoedits before trying out proper gifing was a nice starting point

34. A set that took you a long time/was really hard but you’re really proud of how it came out

hm the stardust one is the first that came to mind even though it's more the case of "it didn't receive as much attention as most my other cql gifsets but i'm still quite fond of it" rather than it being particularly time/effort-consuming. not to mention that i'm hardly ever actually proud of anything i create but well, that's just my brain cockroaches messing stuff up. back on track, the WWX gifs in the trust parallel set were a pain to edit but eventually i ended up learning new tricks while groping my way around it so i'm not complaining

okay, if i were really to pick a gifset i'm proud of that'd be the ripples one, no doubts (gonna add the link once i actually finish and post it, i promise). it's the most advanced technically (don't even ask me how long i've been nitpicking it from all directions and how i'm still tempted to drop the current version in favor of approaching it from a whole new direction bc surely it can be done way way better if i just go nitpick it some more! ya know, the usual overthinking) and it's sth very personal to me thematically. the underlying meaning of it is too closely related to liminal spaces (or more like what i simplify as "liminal spaces" as i suspect my own understanding of this concept in general can differ quite a bit from that of other people) so putting it into actual words gets tricky. but this kinda comes with the territory so nothing unusual

48. How would you describe your giffing style

ugh honestly idek if i have one..? for real, i don't think there's anything about my gifs that makes them stand out much. at least there surely isn't anything that i deliberately make sure to integrate every single time (maybe i do unconsciously though, who knows). so i feel like it's more for others to judge ¯_(ツ)_/¯

what i can say is that when i do make gifsets i apparently tend to illustrate some narrative parallels or sth with them..? or just combine scenes with a quote that strikes me with fitting vibes. or both. also i like to have fun with the colors and lighting and use adjustment layers quite heavily (but gotta admit it's hardly an option to halfass this if i wanna my Yi City gifs to look vibrant and alive enough). i suppose alternative subtitles to all my cql sets are a feature of my so called style as well since i always translate them myself instead of going the easy way and copying any of the already existing ones. which is also fun! even if, well, adds to the amount of time and spoons i put into it but what can i say, it's a matter of habit by now

#Liam whispers into the void #the void whispers back to Liam #ebonykain #ask games #creativity #gifing #yeah i'm still (somewhat) alive here #me? replying to an ask game for once? more likely than you think #and than *i* think tbh #should do sth about the other ones as well actually but hopefully i'll do it sooner rather than later #also feeling like this came out longer than anyone would probably wanna see so sorry for that i got rambly #but this doesn't look long enough to warrant the long post tag. correct me if i'm wrong though #anyway thank you Ebony for sending the ask and prompting me to at least *think* in the creative direction! it's really appreciated💜 #ngl was considering posting this once i post the ripples gifset but knowing me this can get postponed for another year so NOPE #now or never #should finish that one as well though #upd: feels ironic to answer a gifmaking meme and not know how to properly add someone else's gif to the post #i thought it'd look right once i hit post but no. not enough at least #looks like i gotta settle at this cuz i can't think rn of how else to do it

[alltheotherblogs]

I was asked what my favorite fictional world was...

And it's really not so cut and dry. It's actually hard to truly say. I like a world where virtually anything is possible, but with strict rules. That's kind of why I like JoJo's bizarre Adventure. The strict rules which everything has to abide by while also sharing the absurdity and possibility which the world has, it's always captivated me. My favorite part of JJBA is Part 7, because it shows another way to get a stand besides the alien disease on a meteor... It shows a religious miraculous origin. Religion. It's beyond interesting to incorporate Jesus into a world which isn't the bible, and do it in such a way. The mere idea of the parts of Jesus's body granting power, it's just interesting. Cause at that point you have to think... "Is all of JJBA part of God's plan?" hehehe. I think it's just awesome. But, I really really like religion. I find religious stories, myth, legend, all that stuff VERY fun and interesting. I'm no Christian but I really really like the stories of the bible.

But, Jojo isn't my favorite fictional world. Just one of many that I really like. That kind of segways me into worlds that I REALLY like... Mythos, legend, and religion. Yeah, seriously. All over the world, amazing stories are going under appreciated because people are gatekeeping these tales behind the veil of belief. But, they are on the internet, free for you to read at any time. And I really recommend it! You should go and explore some ideas in other religions that you may be interested in. I'm always learning more from religion. Those guys still knew how to tell a good story back then. How else would so many people be attracted to YOUR particular belief? Through ideology? Well yeah... But, also, I've heard that plenty of people have switched to Christianity AFTER they read the bible. I'm not kidding! Regardless, I think a lot of legend and myth sort of promotes this idea that you live in a world where anything is possible. And, really that is my favorite fictional world. A world where anything is possible.

(Gif unrelated I just really like Pingu)

I play D&D, and other TTRPG's. But, D&D is my favorite, I like almost all the editions. But, 5th is my preferred edition. I'm not the first to say this and I won't be the last, but 5th edition is just SO VERSATILE! 5th edition is at it's best when there is homebrew involved. Yeah, all the books are nice... But, I don't want to always tell THEIR story. I want to tell my story, I want to tell my player's stories. And, usually that means homebrew. With the world of D&D, and the rules of the game, it sort of comes together in this perfect merging of possibility with guidelines. You CAN do anything in D&D, but it will ALWAYS have an equal and opposite reaction. D&D is like utter magic fantasy which still somehow abides by real world laws, and it's great. The fact that I can pick up a tree, drop it on something, and it does a realistic amount of damage to that creature... It kind of makes D&D the perfect fantasy...

And just like that, it all comes together... The egg of the king. The birth of a new Godhand...

BERSERK. Those who truly appreciate art, appreciate berserk. and real fans of the series will often call it "The Fiction Bible." Because, it's a perfect example of the BEST STORY ON PLANET EARTH. Honestly, I thought I wanted more people to find and read Berserk, but as soon as I realized what that meant... I realized how wrong I was. A lot of poor unintelligent trash have come into contact with our beautiful tale of struggle. In general, I don't mind if you just don't like Berserk for a valid reason like "Oh, I just don't like the themes, dark fantasy isn't my thing, I don't like stories with such and such or violent stuff isn't really my jam... So on." But, the second you say something actually dumb and untrue like "It's bad because [Strawman argument or other logical fallacy]" Yeah, you and I can't live within 10 miles of each other anymore. If I see you, it's on sight. I'm serious too, I take Berserk very seriously. It saved my life, after all...

I grew up as Guts did, read as chapters came out, joked along with the english speaking community as more chapters came out and got translated. But, most importantly, I was struggling too. I'm sure we've all had hardships in life... But not all of you are as bad off as I am. I'm not going to go into it any deeper, but to say the least, you'll never have any idea what I've been through. Not many will.

Because of this probably unhealthy attachment, I can't respect anyone who has stupid wrong opinions about this masterwork piece of art.

I hate to break it to some of you, but narcissism is a plague on todays society. This results in a lot of people thinking that they are magically right about things! When in reality they are just too low IQ to realize they are wrong. In this instance, a lot of low IQ people are wrong about Berserk. It takes someone very smart to actually appreciate EVERYTHING about this work of art, after all. But, that's enough about Berserk. It's a pure work of art with no flaws, and anyone who personally disagrees with it I'm cool with. But anyone who pretends it is anything but perfection... I'm after you. Don't bother running. (SPOILERS FOR BERSERK BEYOND THIS POINT! If you haven't read it, GO READ IT ALL NOW. IT'S ONLINE FOR FREE.)

In the world of Berserk they so clearly present this idea of multiple universes, and how they can all overlap and have varying circumstances which makes certain things more likely than others... But the main thing is Belief. Belief in something can give it so much power that it becomes true. God, in and of itself, is just a Common Consciousness... It is the culmination of everything. And, as more sentient life is brought into the world, the more powerful God gets. This idea of overlapping realities to create the ultimate reality isn't actually a Berserk original, it's actually quantum physics. But, that's not what this post is about. Regardless, this idea of multiple universes is a STAPLE as to what makes a Fantasy world perfect for me. It ultimately means anything and everything is possible within the set rules... Which is why Berserk is almost my favorite fantasy world. As soon as Femto manages to trick skullknight into actually bridging the gap between the sort of "Fey" or "Mythical" world and the material world, it turns this world into this magical and incredible place where many things once thought myth or legend are now possible at the hands of perfectly normal mortal people. In fact, I actually believe that Guts' exposure to one of the deepest planes of the dimensional layers during the eclipse is what gave him his unrealistic and absurd strength. The world of Berserk is very difficult to explain to say the least. But, the basics are; It has a lot of layers, which the deepest is God himself. The deeper into these layers of reality you go, the more magical and fantastical things get, because you are coming into contact with base elements of our reality. Vague concepts like Elements, Energy, an Afterlife, what sentience actually means, so on. In Berserk, people can actually meet the conditions to slip into a deeper plane of existence, this is where Legends, religion, and myth sort of came from. I like the way this is handled, more than any other world.

It's kind of like this simulated Fractal. Layer after layer after layer, except, eventually, you get small enough that more layers can no longer exist. That's why my favorite fictional universes are the ones I make myself. Sure, I like a lot of worlds... I really like Soul Eater! The simplicity of the setting combined with the complexity and idea of there simply being a magic system intrigues me. I like Fullmetal Alchemist! Alchemy only exists because of this profound concept and extra-dimensional being... HOW?! WHAT?! What does that mean?! That means, that by the end of FMA, the limits of power are nearly infinite in this world. I'm constantly left wondering what other Gods could be born in a world like FMA. Hunter X Hunter has one of the best power systems in all of manga, with some minor rules which I disagree with... Hmm... I'm noticing a theme. Most of my favorite fiction is in Manga. Yikes... Yeah, well it's true. The West just isn't as good at writing stories as the East. I'm sorry guys... :( It's not even necessarily the case that "The west sucks at storytelling boohoo" it's just that, a wide majority of english speaking society happens to be idiots. I don't know why! Good well made stuff doesn't get popular here! It has lead to other places having a monopoly on GOOD STORY TELLING! It's absurd to be honest, and it's the reason Hollywood is crashing. Regardless, whenever I made a world, that world becomes my favorite. And I know, it's self centered, but if I had to pick any other world, it'd be Berserk! Why? Because it's cool idfk.

#fiction #favorites #writing #d&d 5e #jojo's bizarre adventure

[passingnotions]

The Dubu Dub | Dahyun

smut (duh), 1800~ words, no edits because who cares how it reads, BFH

A/N: Yeah so dropping this after finishing it in one sitting. I just wanted to post it, apologies for the quality if anyone cares, it's literally horny brain vomit.

“Hey congrats!” “Huh?” You turn towards the voice. “Congrats! You got the dub!” “The what now?” “The dub!” “Guys, how many drinks have I—” You lost your friends in the crowd of the afterparty. When? The daze and noise barely allow you to focus. Who the fuck knows? “Dude, she won’t wait long so hurry it up.” Someone, perhaps a few someones, pull you by the sleeve. Through the crowd, you try to remember the whereabouts of your group. Met at the apartment, that’s easy enough. Then, the concert? Yeah, the concert. Time of your life, front row seats, fanchants, the whole thing. Afterwards, the afterparty. Right. Rumors of Twice members showing up.

~~ “You believe that shit?” You said as you rested your whole body across the backseat, tired from all the yelling and jumping and all-around fun time. Your two companions in the front row were already plotting a route on their phones. “I dunno.” One went. “We don’t have anywhere to be before our flight home, anyway.” The other. “I guess.” You pulled up your phone. “Why isn’t it on Twitter or some other place, though?” “Listen man, I just overheard the staff talking about it. It’s supposed to be all fancy and exclusive.” “Route started, head south on…” “And how do you plan on getting in?” Twitter had nothing to show. “We have twenty-five minutes to figure that out.” And that you did. ~~ “Ok, you good to go in?” Bright lights help you with cleansing out the drunk daze from your brain. The music is all faded, thumping at the end of the hallway to your right. “Wait, wait. What’s going on, again?” “Remember that raffle at the start?” Big security person says, still holding you by the sleeve. “Yeah, basically an entry fee, what about it?” “You got the dub, you won! You get your prize now.” He grabs your face and gives you a few light slaps. You come to and swat the hands away. “Fuck off!” “Alright yeah, you’re good. Through the door whenever you’re ready.” He walks away as you open the door in front of you. The room is empty, random stuff thrown about. The door closes with a louder sound than anticipated, which prompts a corner door inside the room to open. “Oh, hey, raffle took them long enough.” What the fuck.

“Hey, you’re not that drunk, right? Not yet, anyway.” She smiles, amused by her own comment, and walks up to you. Crop top, short skirt, pigtails. Kim Dahyun. “D-Dahyun?! What—I’m sorry, how? I mean… Hi?” “Hi, yeah, this is your prize.” She twirls with the pigtails in her hands. “Well, more like, you’re mine.” She laughs and sits on the futon opposite of the door. You’re dumbfounded still, that’s clear. The cross-armed, cross-legged woman aims her gaze at you. The short skirt allows a peek at Dahyun’s thigh, reaching all the way to her ass with nothing else in sight. “Hey.” She snaps her fingers twice. “I promise to answer questions later, anything you want. I prefer to fuck when you’re starstruck.” You walk over. “So the raffle…” “Yes. Now, take these off.” You hastily remove your pants, keeping underwear. “You won’t disappoint me now, will you?” She leans forward, uncrossing her legs. Her hands are at the edge of the seat at each side, back straight, her face a mere inches away from your cock. “I’ll be sure not to.” Drunk you is all gone by now, blood rushing to add to your length and the distance between it and her face reduces itself to none. Dahyun smirks. “I like the confidence.” She proceeds to yank down the underwear without a thought, your cock springing up and down as if it was jumping from joy—it’s certainly happy to be there. Her small hand grabs it by the base and Dahyun aligns her lips with the tip. You feel her breath, she trembles as well. The anticipation is downright lethal as she allows her mouth to salivate and your cock to erect itself fully; the warmth alone could make you bust. Dahyun caves in and surrounds your cock with her face. She’s only about three bobs in and you find your length fully slathered with her drool, each in-and-out you throb more and more precum into her tongue. You moan and groan at the unending pleasure she creates on your cock. She moans in return and you catch her hand already playing between the folds of her skirt. “How wet are you, Dahyun?” You manage to ask. “I’m soaked.” She responds, one hand showing her wet fingers as the other strokes your length with the spit. A different kind of dumbfounded, but dumbfounded you remain. The pigtails rest on her shoulders and your hands react. You wrap each around your hands once for proper grip and align Dahyun’s face once again with the tip. You feel her breath again, now stronger, wanting, but you tease her; she breaks. “Please…” “Please what?” “Please put your cock in my mouth.” “Stick your tongue out for me.” Dahyun concedes all power to you. Whatever she had is now lost, the leverage she possessed all yours to play with. Her tongue sticks out in full, needy eyes attempt to catch your gaze begging for cock. It’s not on her say now, though, it’s on yours. You pull her pigtails while thrusting forward slightly. The motion is consistent, slow, almost torture for you both. Your cock enters Dahyun’s mouth in one full move until it hits the back of her throat. “Fuck, you don’t even gag at that?” Your cue. Her head is held in place like a toy. You begin to thrust with no regards to anything but your own pleasure. You don’t start slow, ramp up speed, let her breathe; you just fuck her face. It’s almost violent to a degree, and worry would set on anyone viewing the act. The only reason you don’t stop is Dahyun. Her hands grasp at your thighs with buried nails pulling you in for more. It lasts for longer than you realize—a little more and you’d surely finish. Regrettably, she stops you. Slobber connects your cockhead with her lips after their wanton kiss as Dahyun gasps for air. With your hands still on her hair, she commands: “Fuck me.” Whatever power she lost before, some of it is surely back. You release her and she flips over, hands grabbing the top of the futon as her pussy comes into full display. You waste no time raising the skirt off whatever little of Dahyun’s ass was left to show, then line up. “Please, fucking rail me.” She begs. This puts you on the brink of insanity (naturally) and, while you are not

drunk anymore, it feels all the same. Her glistening lips welcome your length in one thrust and you shove it to the hilt. Her moan and your groan fill the room as you hold the position and revel in the satisfaction. Your cock pulses and continues to leak its precum inside Dahyun. You begin your thrusting once again, uncontrolled and unrestrained. The pounding is probably heard out in the hall, over some of the music even, but that makes it even better. Dahyun moans to the heavens as your litany of sounds fill the room, the primal form of communication more than enough to confirm your pleasure. Continuous thrusting makes her pale ass ripple, the milky thighs toward the bottom turning bright red in response. To make it match, you spank Dahyun. With one hand, you bunch up her pigtails for leverage and pull, with the other, you interchange spanks, left and right. “Fuck yes, please! Use me!” She yells. “You’re the slut I thought you’d be.” You blurt out without stopping. One last thrust to the hilt and you let go of her hair. Dahyun’s head hangs down to rest and you fondle her ass as you take a breath. The bright red mess fuels you further, and your eyes get set on her untouched asshole. You gather some of her arousal with your thumb, hand still groping her ass, and move it up towards her hole. Your hips begin to thrust without thought by now. The fucking is slow, methodical, deliberate—you thrust into Dahyun’s gushing pussy all the while teasing her asshole with her own slick. The moans are softer, cute almost, and you enjoy the slow fuck for a spell. You continue to tease with your thumb and, as it centers with her hole, she suddenly pushes back. You manage to catch a smile on the side of her face as she turns towards you. She turns for as much as her back allows and you meet her halfway, leaning somewhat. “Paint my back today and I’ll give you my

ass next time.” The captivating tone entrances you. “I’ll allow your finger for today.” You ram your thumb inside her hole. The hard thrusting begins again, this time energetic yet somewhat frantic. The heat of her asshole drives away whatever sense of self-control you had left, the new grip on her ass with your thumb in its position sending wave after wave of pleasure as you pull her back against each thrust. Your time was sure to come, but now it was rushing at light speed. You take one last look at the bent-over Dahyun: pigtails that sway and sway and sway, a sweaty back that leads into her perfect waist-hip ratio, and a rippling red mess of an ass that was currently plugged in both of its holes. “Beg for it, Dahyun, beg for cum.” You say before your brain melts into oblivion. “Fuck yes! Paint my back with your cum, shower me with every last drop! Make me yours!” Your seed splatters as you chaotically jack off over Dahyun. Your groans are primal and you squeeze her ass with your thumb still inside as the last of your cum drips on her. Collapsing next to her, you nearly pass out. “Fuck, Dahyun.” She stands and takes off her skirt, careful to not smear your cum on the fabric. “That was fucking amazing.” Dahyun grabs your face and kisses you unemotionally, sweat mixing with spit as you savor her taste. “You said there was a next time, when will that be?” You close your eyes and rest your head, letting your breathing carry you to composure. Dahyun walks over to the corner where the door she originally came out of is, at least that’s what you perceive. The door opens and a faucet runs. She does not answer. Your body gives out and, before you manage to relax, you fall asleep, exhaustion finally hitting after the long night. You awake what you believe to be a moment later, but the bathroom light is off, and the room empty. The music pounds on the walls still, but there’s no Dahyun in sight. Looking to the side you see your pants, your phone, and a note.

Added myself to your contacts. Won’t be long until next time.

#kpop smut #twice smut #dahyun smut #male reader #reader insert

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime — Eleven // Wanda Maximoff

chapter ten | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter twelve

author’s note: i’ll be sticking to the schedule of posting a chapter every two days! hope you like this one :)

Dreaming was all I had at one point.

I'd dream about having a collection of books with my name signed in the front: I'd dream about people coming to me and quoting my own words back to me; I'd dream about talking to the press about my newest release. But that's all they were. Dreams.

Until they weren't.

Saying yes to Pietro was probably the most exciting to thing to happen in my life, ever. I was finally getting everything I ever wanted.

As soon as possible, everything was set into motion. He introduced me to the editors that worked for him, whom were all eager to meet me (weirdly enough) and I was able to get to know them all before picking who I wanted to work with me. The book – "the first of many", as Pietro liked to joke – was going to be an old manuscript I'd worked on but had never seen the light of day. It was the one I'd always wanted to publish, in my dreams. Well, I guess now it wasn't so much a dream.

The editor I chose was this man called Steve Rogers. He was some American who I instantly got along with. A respectful, kind and considerate man whose work ethic blended with mine. After getting to know each other properly, I instantly knew he was the one I wanted to work with. And not just because he wasn't my brother's editor. That just happened to be a plus.

So, we worked together on my book. If not at the publishing house, then at my house. And if not there, we'd sometimes go to his place where he lived with his wife Peggy. She was just as nice as he was, though a Londoner unlike us, and welcomed me with open arms, glad I was going to do what I loved and be Pietro's first author who happened to be a woman. She was older than me, they both were, and I always felt like there were like the auntie and uncle I always wanted, even if there was a mere ten years between us.

Working with Steve meant I was a lot busier than I usually was. It got me out of wedding stuff – which was approaching quicker than ever – and I didn't mind, but it meant I saw less of Wanda which wasn't fun. When I did see her, she wanted to know everything about my experience as an official author. I'd tell her I wasn't an author yet, since I hadn't been published, and then she'd scrunch her nose and shake her head in an adorable fashion, and my heart would race.

Today was yet another session to work on my book and I was going to Steve's for the afternoon, which I already knew meant until the evening since we almost always lost track of time.

I found myself chewing on a pencil as we sat in his study, him looking at my newly-edited copy and me worried he wouldn't like it. It was strange having somebody edit my work for a change – I was so used to editing Y/B/N's that I didn't realise how weird it felt. But Steve had a genius mind and managed to see things I didn't, which was one of the many perks of us working together.

"You're spending an awful long time reading it, which means you're either judging it immensely or you love it," I commented after too long a silence. "I don't think I want to know which."

He glanced at me, signalling for me to be quiet, before looking back to the paper. A smile curled on his lips as I distracted myself with a cup of tea Peggy had kindly brought in earlier. After another few minutes of silence, he leaned back in his seat and stared at me curiously.

"So...?" I prompted with an apprehensive raised brow.

He shook his head, amazed. "You took on everything I said and nailed it, Y/N."

My panicking self breathed out as he put the paper on the desk before us, smiling at me with pride.

"You've managed to get into the head of a man perfectly," he continued to compliment, and I felt my face flushing, still not used to the praise he gave me. I was so accustomed to Y/B/N receiving it that mine felt fake sometimes. "You've perfectly described what it's like to fall in love with a woman."

I avoided his eyes as I smiled awkwardly. "Thanks, Steve."

"One might think you've been in love with one yourself," he added, and I couldn't tell if he was joking.

I cleared my throat, feeling warm all of a sudden. "Oh, no, of course not... how absurd."

"Oh? Do you not approve of same-sex relationships?"

Chewing on the inside of my mouth, I risked glancing up at him. He was already staring my way, blue eyes holding an amused glint. What was happening right now?

"It's not a test," he reassured, as if reading my mind. "And I'd like to think I'm very open-minded. I'm not going to cancel your publishing deal or anything."

My eyes widened with alarm, not even considering that as a possibility. 

Realising I was actually worried, he snickered and rested a hand on my shoulder, shaking his head. "Shoot, no! No, Y/N, don't think that! It's just a question."

I swallowed hard, nodding and hoping he couldn't hear the erratic beating of my heart. "Right... erm, well, I guess, maybe, I don't think it's such a bad thing..."

Worrying my lip, I tried to make out his expression, almost expecting disgust. I shouldn't have been surprised when he seemed unaffected by my words, instead crossing his arms and nodding my way.

"You write like you're in love," he noted casually, oblivious to the heat rising up my neck.

I shrugged dismissively, disguising my nerves. "Doesn't everyone?"

He smirked knowingly, then leaned forward and sipped his tea. I waited patiently, wondering what was happening and if the conversation was done. But then he put his leg over his knee and crossed his hands atop them.

"Did I ever tell you I was in the army?" he asked. "Before editing?"

I shook my head. "No."

Steve was a built man and I could totally see him fighting in the army. But at the same time, he was so gentle that I couldn't imagine him killing other people. I guess he was full of surprises.

He tilted his head towards the desk. "I was in love with writing as a kid. Always have been. But obviously, back in America, I was enrolled in the army. And I guess I grew to love that, too."

I nodded to show I was listening, and he smiled as he reminisced.

"Fighting for my country, representing my home," he continued, but his eyes seemed sad as he said, "I thought I was in love with it. But I think, maybe, I'd fallen in love with something else."

He fell quiet, smile fading. His thoughts took over as he stared at the desk, but he seemed far away. I had to rest a hand on his to get his attention.

"Steve?" I called gently.

His eyes met mine as he zoned back into reality. Like someone had just flicked a light switch on in his brain, he stood up and headed to the window behind him. Picking up a framed photo, he returned to me and pulled his chair closer so he could show me the photograph.

It was him and some other man, the two stood side by side with grins on their faces. The other man had his arm around Steve's shoulders, their happiness completely contradicting the army uniforms they wore and the ruined scene behind them.

"That's my best friend, Bucky," Steve explained with a small smile, pointing to the unknown man.

"You look so young," I realised, having never seen that photo before.

"I think we were nineteen? Twenty?" he said, looking up in thought, before nodding. "Yeah. Twenty. We served together for about four years and became best friends."

I smiled at the way he spoke of him, though recalled I'd never actually seen nor heard of Bucky before in the short time I'd known Steve.

"He was the person I told everything to," Steve continued, nodding with certainty. "We had so many secrets. So many inside jokes. He was my person."

I watched on with intrigue, then I saw a familiar look in Steve's eyes that I'd imagine were in my own whenever I spoke of Wanda.

"I realised I'd fallen in love with him," Steve confirmed my thoughts, eyes never leaving the photograph. "I think that he might have felt the same."

Knowing I'd regret it as soon as I asked, I said, "What happened?"

Steve licked his lips, nodding to himself as a frown replaced his nostalgic smile. "I lost him before I could tell him. He crossed enemy lines and they killed him."

The silence was deafening as he studied Bucky's smiling face and I tried not to cry for his sake, tears brimming my eyes.

"They never found his body and I never got to say goodbye," Steve said quietly, finger brushing the photograph.

Losing his love before he could tell him... I couldn't even imagine not being able to tell Wanda how I felt. She was my everything and more. I'd never appreciated her more than I did right now.

I frowned, resting a hand on his back. "Steve, I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, reassuring smile appearing on his lips as he looked my way. His eyes were glassy, but he didn't cry.

"I'm not," he told me, resting his hand on top of mine and squeezing it gratefully. "I found one of the best loves I had. And Bucky isn't gone. Not really. He's right here." He pointed to his heart and I couldn't help but smile at his positivity.

Though, his words sunk in and I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering about Peggy, his wife. As if reading my mind, he began to chuckle.

"I know what you're thinking," he said, placing the photograph on the desk. "I love Peggy with all of my heart. We met long after I left the army, when I saw her in a bar back in America and she asked me to dance. I knew then and there that I never wanted to dance with anyone else."

As he spoke about his wife, I saw the sadness leave his eyes and be replaced with infatuation. I realised, Bucky still lived in his heart, but Peggy owned it.

"Peggy is the only person who understands me," he said with a lovestruck smile. "I was afraid, at first, about what would happen if she found out about my love for Bucky, so I only ever talked about him as a friend."

"And what happened?" I asked, hanging onto his every word. I'd never thought that I'd be having this conversation with anyone, let alone Steve. But it made me feel less alone, knowing there were people like me out there, too. I wasn't strange, I was normal.

He scratched his head, slightly embarrassed. "Well, one night, I had a nightmare about Bucky. And she woke me up, asking why I was crying and calling his name. And I couldn't lie to her because I was so scared and upset and I didn't want to go through it alone. I hoped she'd love me enough to be there for me."

I smiled softly. "And she was."

He mirrored my smile, nodding. "She was. She told me it was okay and that she still loved me and it didn't change anything. She was still my wife and I her husband."

If I wasn't in awe of Peggy Carter before, I certainly was now. She was such a caring, trusting woman and I could definitely see why Steve was in love with her.

"Peggy and Bucky are two different kinds of loves," he finished with a content sigh, "but I wouldn't trade either of them for anything in the world."

His words stayed with me and I wiped the corner of my eye, not wanting to cry tears, happy or sad.

"Thank you for trusting me with that," I said genuinely. "I won't tell a soul."

He smiled, eyes crinkling kindly, and squeezed my hand before letting go. I didn't know what to say as we sat there, the confession hanging in the air. I knew what was to come next, but I wasn't as brave as him. At least I thought I wasn't.

"So," he began, his foot nudging mine. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

I played with the hem of my dress. "I mean, how can I top that?"

Rolling his eyes, he watched me knowingly. "Y/N."

Swallowing the lump rising in my throat, I looked around the room to find the courage to speak. It wasn't that I didn't trust him – I did now more than ever – but I was so used to hating myself for my feelings that I was afraid to admit them aloud. Years of conditioning, I guess.

Then, my eyes fell to the framed photograph of Steve and Bucky and I was reminded by his heartbreakingly beautiful story. They didn't get their happy ending together, but Steve did. And even if I eventually wouldn't get mine, I still deserved to talk about it. Right?

"There is someone," I said quietly, appreciating Steve's patience. "And she's wonderful."

I caught a glimpse of Steve's encouraging smile and didn't feel so nervous anymore.

"She's got this dazzling smile," I said, my own smile on my lips as hers filled my mind. "And she's got these irresistible eyes... it was the first thing I noticed about her. Then I got to know her and learnt she finds joy in making me squirm."

He chuckled alongside me, paying me all of his attention.

"I wouldn't have it any other way though," I added, her hazel eyes sparkling in my head. "She loves to paint. God knows she's so talented... and she always has paint on some part of her. Little blobs of it on her hands or arms. I don't even think she realises it. But it's so cute. Especially when she talks about a new piece she's working on, or some new supplies she bought and she's waving her hands around madly. She's just wonderful. She supports me with my writing and it's because of her that I'm even here right now." I sighed as I met Steve's eyes. "I'm in love with her with every cell of my body, Steve."

He reassured me with a smile and I didn't realise how much I needed it. Being able to talk so freely about my feelings for Wanda felt foreign but wonderful and I wished it didn't have to be such a rare thing.

"She sounds like the complete opposite to the woman in the book," he observed with a stifled laugh. "Almost like you tried to hide the fact that it could be someone real."

I pushed my hair from my eyes as I smiled with amusement. "That's exactly it actually. I guess I got scared in case anybody put two and two together."

He laughed properly this time, before nodding with approval. "She sounds amazing, Y/N... but who is she?"

Despite practically pouring my heart out to the editor, saying her name aloud was a different thing. He seemed to recognise this as he smacked my arm playfully.

"Oh, c'mon, don't leave me guessing now," he joked.

Crossing my arms, I looked to my shoes and tried not to panic. "It's Pietro's sister..."

He raised his brows with a surprised grin on his face. "Wow, the boss' sister?! Risky!"

I pressed my lips together, glancing at him, waiting for the penny to drop. Then it did.

"Wait, isn't Wanda engaged to your brother?" he asked slowly, grin disappearing.

Staying quiet, I looked back down to my shoes. He seemed to pick up on my response as I heard him sigh sympathetically.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," he started, but I shook my head with a grimace.

"It's okay, it's fine... like you, I'm glad I've got her whilst I can. Sadly, we live in a world where it's just not meant to be."

It went quiet and I regretted bringing the mood down with mention of my terrible love life. Steve moved forward and pulled me in for a hug, which I instantly returned, knowing he knew what I was going through. Maybe not exactly, but probably the closest I'd get.

We never spoke about my rotten luck again after that.

—

Dress shopping. Probably the thing I was least looking forward to when it came to this wedding (apart from the actual wedding, of course).

Wanda was to buy her wedding dress and I was to buy my maid of honour dress because apparently that was what I was. Wanda hadn't decided that, neither had I, but our mothers figured it was best since Pietro was Y/B/N's best man.

So, on a random Tuesday morning, Wanda, Iryna, my mother and I were in sat in a carriage, on our way to town to go dress shopping. To say I felt sick the whole time was an understatement. Dress shopping only meant this scary nightmare was coming true. Wanda was going to marry my brother.

"...gonna look amazing in everything you try on, but it's important find the perfect dress!" Iryna was saying to her daughter, but I was barely listening. "The perfect dress is just as important as the perfect husband!"

My mother laughed alongside her as I rolled my eyes inconspicuously. Wanda's hand found mine between us, covered by our dresses so our mothers couldn't see, and she gave it a squeeze. She wasn't even gone yet, but all this talk of husbands and dresses made me miss her already.

"...don't you think, Y/N? Dresses are the main part of a wedding!" my mum was saying, earning my attention.

I swallowed awkwardly and looked to Wanda, who watched me with apologetic eyes.

"Right... we'll find you the perfect dress, love. Something that'll make everybody there wish they were you."

She offered me a small smile, but my heart ached as I looked the other way.

The carriage ride took forever, but we finally got there and were let out by the driver. I was the last to leave, my bag falling from my grasp as I jumped off the step. Before I could bend to get it, the driver shook his head.

"Please, let me, miss," he said with a smile.

I waited patiently, glancing up as Wanda paused by the shop door, waiting for me. I shot her an apologetic look before looking back to the driver, who was now holding my bag out to me.

"Might I say, miss," he said as his hand lingered on mine before I pulled it away subtly, "you look absolutely stunning today."

I smiled uncomfortably, not wanting to be rude. "Thanks, sir..." I cleared my throat, attempting to step away. "And thank you for the ride. Do have a good day."

His hand pressed to the small of my back as I made a move to leave, his fingers grazing me and sending a shiver of discomfort down my spine.

"And you," he replied, eyes looking me up and down.

"Thanks," I mumbled before speed-walking to Wanda.

She didn't spare me a glance as she walked into the store, leaving me confused. I followed after her, wondering what caused her sudden mood swing, and caught up with her before she found our mothers going to the bridal section of the store.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked, studying her face.

She continued to look forward, jaw tensed. "Perfectly fine. C'mon."

I opened my mouth to say something, but she walked off without me, approaching our mothers.

"Okay, way to make an already bad day worse," I mumbled to myself, before joining them all reluctantly.

The excruciating activity began when my mother made me try on some dresses she'd already lined up for me. Without me knowing, she'd given the tailor my measurements so it was just a matter of trying everything on and picking one.

It was the fifth dress I was trying on when I struggled to tie the back.

"Please can I get a hand?" I called out from the dressing room, wishing this day would be over already.

"Can you go and–" I heard my mum's voice begin to say, before she was cut off by Wanda.

"It's fine, I'll go."

Wanda slipped through the curtain soon after, still looking as grumpy as she had all morning. It was quiet as I turned around and lifted my hair so she could access the corded material. She tightened the cord before I felt her tie a bow at the top. It was a little rougher than I liked, so when she was done, I spun around and gave her a knowing look.

"What's wrong?"

She shrugged, crossing her arms.

"Wanda," I tried again, glad that our mothers were too engaged in conversation with the tailor to hear us. "You've been off all morning. And I know it's not because of... this."

Her eyes locked on mine with frustration. "Our driver was clearly making a move on you earlier."

Oh, so she was jealous.

"He was also very creepy," I muttered, unsure to why this had bothered her so much.

She rolled her eyes harshly. "You didn't exactly stop him."

I smiled with disbelief. "Seriously? I was trying not to make a scene. Being nice."

"Yeah, you're nice to a lot of people, aren't you...?"

Raising my eyebrows, I scoffed. "Wanda. Are you hearing yourself right now?"

"Forget it," she mumbled, making a move to leave, but I grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"You've been pissed off at me because some random driver flirted with me against my own will?" I questioned in a whisper. "How is that fair?"

She tore her arm from my hand and glared at me. "I said forget it."

How could she be so angry right now? This was stupid! It came out of nowhere and it wasn't exactly helping with this already-terrible day. Watching the woman I love prepare to get married to somebody else was already hard enough without said woman starting an argument for no reason.

"You have no right to be jealous," I reminded her with a low voice, returning her glare. "You're getting married in case you forgot. And to my brother. You don't get to be jealous when you're going to be a married woman."

She frowned, eyes flickering between mine impatiently. I unclenched my jaw at the painful reminder of my own words and forced myself to look away from her. This was getting a lot harder than I thought.

Wordlessly, I pushed past Wanda and left the changing room, counting down the seconds 'til this day came to an end.

Of course, after choosing my maid of honour dress, we moved onto Wanda's wedding dress.

She tried on several and looked breathtaking in each one, but it only made my chest ache because of how badly I wished we could be the ones to get married. I wanted to face her and hear her vows before reading out my own. I wanted to hold her her hands and say 'I do' before being pronounced wife and wife. I wanted to kissed her in front of friends and family and share our love with the world. It wasn't fair.

It was the eighth dress she tried on when we found the perfect one. It was an off-the-shoulder neckline with a slim cut at the top that trailed off into a lovely gown made of lace and satin. A beautiful bright white colour complimented her long brown hair and bright hazel eyes, and I was certain I was falling in love all over again.

"Oh, wow... Wanda, dear...," my mum said, at a loss for words.

Chewing on her lip nervously, Wanda looked between the three of us. When her eyes met mine, she instantly looked away and I felt a guilt settle in my stomach from what I'd said to her earlier. It was completely unnecessary and I'd only said it out of anger because of today's plans, not because of her. I didn't care about her jealousy or the flirting... I just hated what was happening.

She'd not uttered a word to me since our mini argument, nor I her, and I knew I'd have to apologise when I got a moment.

"Mum, don't cry," Wanda said, and I turned to see Iryna tearing up at the sight of her daughter. "It's just a dress."

Iryna laughed to distract from her tears. "It's not just a dress, Wan, you look beautiful. A true bride."

Wanda smiled awkwardly, looking down at her shoes. I had to stop my eyes from running up and down her frame with admiration when I heard my mum call me.

"What do you think, Y/N? D'you think this is the one?" she asked, nodding to Wanda.

I cleared my throat and looked to the girl who was still avoiding my eyes. "Er, yeah... I think that she's looked stunning in all of them, but this one wins. Perfect dress for the perfect...," I sighed quietly, "...girl."

Green eyes hesitantly met mine, an unreadable look in them. Oh, how I wished I could go up to her and kiss her as hard as I could, telling her how sorry I was and how much I wished we could leave this stupid store and be done with today. But I couldn't and she knew that and I knew that and we both looked away, uncertain what our future held.

—

The ride home was uncomfortably silent. Everybody was worn out from the morning's shopping spree and Wanda and I were still on no-talking terms. But the day wasn't over yet, as Iryna invited my mother and I over for lunch and my mother accepted without asking me. I wasn't too bothered as I only had one thought in mind: to apologise to Wanda.

By the time we arrived outside their home, I let Iryna and my mum walk on ahead and Wanda seemed to have the same idea as she lingered back beside me. When our mothers were out of earshot, I turned to Wanda to say something, but she spoke first.

"I want to apologise," she began, but I shook my head.

"No, wait, I want to," I started, but she spoke over me.

"Please, let me finish."

Her eyes pleaded with mine and I nodded before watching her take a deep breath.

"I shouldn't have gotten jealous like I did... you were right. I can't be jealous when I'm literally getting married in less than a month."

"Wanda, no," I stopped her, moving forward and taking her hand. "It's not your fault and I shouldn't have said that... you're not choosing to get married."

She smiled helplessly, eyes looking around. It didn't need to be said, but we both knew that married or not, we still wouldn't be able to be together. We could never get jealous because in society's eyes, we could never love each other.

"Can we forget this happened?" I asked gently. "I don't want– I'm not mad at you. I was just mad at today. The dress shopping, the wedding talk... I took it out on you and I shouldn't have."

"I'm not mad at you either," she said with a sigh.

I smiled sadly. "You really did look beautiful in your dress you know."

She swallowed hard, thumb stroking my hand. "So did you." A frown appeared on her lips. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too."

She tried to smile and even though it was forced, it gave me butterflies. "I love you."

Dazzling smile. Irresistible eyes. Yeah, I was in love with her with every cell in my body.

"I love you, too."

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagine #marvel #mcu

[owfanfiction1]

I just started writing this fanfiction because I always loved Oliver Wood and had insomnia a few weeks ago and needed something to do lol. Sorry if there are any continuation or grammar mistakes, and inconsistencies in the universe and stuff, I've never really written HP fanfiction before, this might be total BS. Please lmk if you find something wrong. xxxx

°•° First Year - 1987/1988 - Part I

The first time she had noticed him was during a History of Magic lesson, when most of the class was already not paying attention. Her eyes focused on the back of his head, sat a row in front of her to the right; he was clearly reading the newest edition of Quidditch Vision Weekly, not a care in the world. Aurora thought it was scandalous that he was not paying attention to the lesson, that he had ignored the fact this class was taught by the GHOST of Professor Binns, and that it was the very first class the new first years had at Hogwarts.

   She huffed loudly and carried on taking notes. These lessons are supposed to be invaluable! The magic education every witch and wizard surely had longed to receive for years! She knew she had... Ever since she could remember, ever since she could understand her older brother, Aiden, coming home from the great Hogwarts School every Christmas break and every summer, she could not wait to get into Hogwarts.

   The last few weeks were a blur. Two trips to Diagon Alley to buy her books, cauldrons, Potion ingredients, an owl, robes, and finally her wand. Then it was the last two days before she had to leave, and her mum had helped her pack. Then it was the 1st September and it was time to go through Platform 9½, which she did by herself after years of observing. She had hopped onto the Hogwarts Express, after hugging her parents tightly goodbye. She had made two friends on the train, Charlie Powell and Isabelle Eriksen. Upon getting to Hogwarts, Aurora was sorted into Ravenclaw, a house she always wanted to go to, the house all her family went to. Charlie went to Hufflepuff, but at least Isabelle was also sorted into Ravenclaw, and was therefore roommates with Aurora.

   The Ravenclaw Common Room was as perfect as Aurora had imagined. To enter, one had to answer a question, rather than just a common password and Aurora felt immensely proud at how intelligence was what bound the Ravenclaws together. The Common Room was a large, circular room, with a private library, a huge statute of the amazing Rowena Ravenclaw, a large number of chairs and beanbags comfortable enough for a bit of light reading and other fun activities, and a board that stood in a corner to the left, with a few notices but also silly bets on who would win the Quidditch Cup or the House Cup, or how long the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would remain in the post, which Aurora found completely hilarious.

   Professor Binns had carried on talking, not noticing that barely anyone was paying attention. She glanced at Isabelle's notes next to her, and realised she had stopped writing too and was now playing with her hair. Aurora started noticing how monotone and boring Binns's voice was, and then she relunctantly understood a bit more why everyone's attention was turned away.

She had a few days of no further contact with him, until a particularly loud Charms class. She realised he was much more vocal now that he had made a few friends, and she attently heard his voice for the first time that afternoon. He was quietly speaking to Simon Wilson, a fellow Ravenclaw, though it was not too difficult to hear as he was mere metres away.

- ... saying that for two weeks now! - he was protesting.

- And you dont agree with it? - Simon replied, still re-reading the instructions on the textbook.

- Of course not! The Tornados will win the League this year!

   "Not with that Seeker of theirs they won't", Aurora thought, amused.

- I thought they had 3 new players with barely no experience.

- Well... Yeah... But we will, we have to. We finally have a new coach. I cant stand watching them lose anymore.

   Aurora was still amused. That guy knew nothing of quidditch if he was a Tutshill Tornados fan... So predictable. Her tongue was burning and she wanted to contradict him, but she felt Processor Flitwick approaching to check their progress and she thought better to concentrate on her spells.

   The class ended shortly after this, and all students packed up and rushed back upstairs to have lunch. The boy was still talking about Quidditch, but this time Aurora heard he was finding flaws in the Falmouth Falcons, the team Aiden played for, as a reserve Seeker. She signed with her head for Isabelle to catch up with her, and she proceeded to catch up with the boy.

- ...with their right wing Beater!

- Are you sure you're in a position to talk about any team when you're hoping the Tornados will win the tournament? Your Seeker caught the snitch only twice last year. And your Keeper... - she scoffed loudly enough to make her point.

    The boy looked at Aurora, stunned. It took him several moments to talk again.

- Oh! Oh! And... What about your...?! You... - he stuttered - I did NOT ask for your opinion!

   He rushed forwards, muttering something about "meddling with other people's conversations!" to Simon, and Aurora laughed loudly.

   For a couple of days, Aurora could see that the boy, whom she later found out was called Oliver Wood purposefully would give her death stares whenever he saw her entering any place. She would find it amusing how, in the Great Hall, his eyes followed her from the entrance to the Ravenclaw table, or how he would look behind in the History of Magic lessons, and quickly look forward again, his face contorted in a grimace. Isabelle said she was sure he had a crush on her, but Aurora knew it was only bitterness and male competitiveness.

   One Thursday, checking the Ravenclaw notice board, she realised she would have a third class with him, apart from History of Magic and Charms. Flying lessons with Madame Hooch. Apparently Flying lessons had started late this year because Madame Hooch had just come to Hogwarts 2 weeks later after being indisposed. Aurora could not wait for them - she loved flying, it was in her blood coming from a family of Quidditch players. Though she never quite wanted to play Quidditch at Hogwarts or professionally, she loved the feeling of being on a broom ever since her first toy one.

   The Ravenclaws lined up on one side, directly facing the Gryffindors lined up on the other. Madame Hooch introduced herself, talked for a bit about instructions and class conduct and finally told everyone to pick up their brooms by only saying "Up!".

   The school's Pervius 85 landed safely in her hands after one try, and Aurora looked around. Most people were struggling, only a few had managed the deed. After a few more minutes, everyone was done, and Madame Hooch told the students to mount the brooms, fly up in the air then touch down. Only 3 students along with Aurora managed to swiftly fly up, without trembling or screaming; Oliver was one of them. Most of the students had a tough time being in the air, trembling and concentrating on trying not to slide off one side or another. Madame Hooch waited until four other students managed to stay comfortably in the air. She then separated the class, turned to give more attention to those who needed it, but told the group that had done well to just fly in circles 5 times as fast as we could.

   The class finished sooner than Aurora wanted to. When everyone was returning their brooms, she was congratulated by Madam Hooch on how well she flied. Her face still hot, Aurora quickly found Isabelle and was hurriedly walking out when Isabelle whispered:

- Are you really related to Adrian Lynch?

- What?

- I heard one boy from Slytherin say it. He said Adrian Lynch is your father! - she said that last part a bit loudly.

- Well... Yeah, he's my father.

- Wow! No wonder you fly so well! It's in your blood!

- Well, I guess it is.

- Will you try to play for Ravenclaw?

- Oh, no. I wouldnt want to play Quidditch professionally. I love it, but I dont see myself as a player, really...

    Aurora and Isabelle walked to their next class, Herbology, deep in conversation about future careers. What Aurora had not noticed was that quite a few people had overheard her conversation.

   She noticed there was something a wee bit strange when one first year from Slytherin smiled and waved at her, and one second year Gryffindor walked over to the Ravenclaw table only to offer her the last slice of pudding at dinner. But the real shock was when Oliver Wood came to talk to her. It was in the middle of Charms class, the last lesson of the day, as first years had Friday afternoons off. He had sat down next to her this time, having exchanged seats with Penelope Clearwater, another roommate of Aurora's, forcing her to sit next to Percy Weasley.

- Hello - he said curtly.

- Wingardium Leviosa! - Aurora simply replied, waving her wand at Oliver's hat, which flew a bit in the air, until he snatched it and pulled it down.

- Very funny! - he commented, sarcastically.

- What do you want, Tornado?

- Just to say... I have to admit that... You fly really well, and I guess you do know your Quidditch. Though you're wrong about us - he muttered that last part.

- I know. I know. And no I'm not.

- What team do you support then, Ms League Winner?

- The Ballycastle Bats.

- They're Irish!

- We have been finishing Top Five in the League for the last 10 years, and we won it 4 years ago. And are YOU not Scottish?! - she exclaimed, having noticed his accent before.

   Aurora realised that was her least productive Charms class yet. She had spent it all talking to Oliver about Quidditch. She had to admit it was quite pleasant, and he was a bit funny too. It was the perfect opportunity to talk, really, as Professor Flitwick only gave the students one task to do, and the room was becoming louder every week, as friendship groups emerged more and more. At the end of the lesson, Oliver had said goodbye to Aurora before they left, Aurora rejoined Isabelle walking out, and soon, they had entered the Great Hall. The smell of potatoes, rice, roast beef, salad, bread and quiche filled her nostrils and she raced Isabelle to the Ravenclaw table. Once she had filled her plate and started eating, two boys approached.

- Hey... Amelia, isnt it?

- It's Aurora.

- I'm David - the boy continued - David Simmons. This is Luke Coade.

   The guy named Luke had sat down next to Isabelle and was shaking her hand. David sat down next to Aurora.

- We're second years, and we realised we had not even completed our tradition this year.

- Tradition? - Isabelle asked.

- Yes, the welcome tradition - replied the Luke guy.

- You know, second years are supposed to give first years a big welcome. Show you guys around the castle, help with anything you need...

- I've never heard about that.. My parents never told me--

- Oh dont worry about it - interrupted David - But if you want, we're going to hang out by the lake after lunch. You girls coming?

   Aurora turned to look at Isabelle, who subtly widened her eyes, tilting her head to the right almost imperceptbly - the feminine look that said "Come on" or "I'm in".

- Yeah, of course! - she said.

- We'll go.

   The rest of the afternoon had been rather pleasant. Luke, Isabelle, Aurora and David sat down in the grounds, then had a water fight at the edge of the lake. Luke taught them a spell to make their clothes dry soon, and when Isabelle tried it and failed, he took her hand and helped guide her until she got it right. They were almost late for dinner, which they had to eat quickly before the plates were switched for the dessert.

They had spent pretty much all weekend wasting time with David and Luke. Aurora and Isabelle both knew the other had not enjoyed the "great" activities the boys promised, but were only going because they didnt want to seem lame. By Monday, Aurora was happy to see Oliver in class and be able to talk to him about a subject she genuinely liked and knew about. During the History of Magic lesson, she and Isabelle, who had asked to know more about Quidditch than just the basics, were reading that week's edition of Quidditch Vision Weekly, which came to Aurora by owl every Monday as one of her subscriptions, and quietly discussing it. Sometimes Oliver would look behind him and hold his thumbs up, to which Aurora would reply with a chuckle, pointing at Isabelle.

   After their next class, which for Ravenclaws was Defense against the Dark Arts, Oliver, Isabelle and Aurora coincidentally met again outside the Great Hall, and immediately started talking to Isabelle about the magazine. After a while, Isabelle sat down at the Ravenclaw table, but Oliver and Aurora were still standing up, happily discussing that year's league. Aurora then felt a hand around her shoulders.

- Why are you talking to a Gryffindor, Ace? - David's voice filled her ears - Wait... No! Arent you that guy that is sucking up to Peter Lovejoy's ass to make into the Gryffindor team?! - he laughed.

- David, stop...

- I'm not-! - Oliver started.

- Get lost, gryffin!

- Stop it, David! Oliver, sorry, I'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah? - David was pulling Aurora closer to the table, who tried to look at Oliver with an apologetic look. He gave a small smile that looked more like a grimace, blushed and went to sit at the Gryffindor table.

   Later that day in the common room, Aurora approached David. She had commented it with Isabelle, and they both agreed David had been very rude and should have been reprimanded.  Aurora made him promise he would apologise to Oliver, though deep down she knew he would not. The next morning, she then apologised to Oliver herself. They only quickly met in the Great Hall during breakfast, where he said he knew it wasn't her fault and that there were no hard feelings. She smiled, said "See you later!" and ran back to the Ravenclaw table to sit between Isabelle and David. What Aurora really felt, but did not understand why, was an uncomfortable feeling - she felt like her stomach was tied up in a tight knot. During the week, the feeling did not pass; it occupied much of her thoughts, and Oliver had to repeat "Morning" twice during their next Charms lesson before she replied.

- I'm sorry - she said - Morning, Oliver.

- How are ya, "Ace"? - he emphasised the last word imitating David's English accent.

   - Ha-ha... - the sarcasm in her voice was apparent - I'm fine... - She looked up and saw that Oliver was considering her, almost realising she was lying - I'm just tired - she finally added - And still need to go to the library after this.

- Trouble in paradise, is it?

- No- Why?

- Dont you always spend your afternoons with him? - he infatued.

- Not necessarily!

- Yes, you do!

- Well, I do when I want to! He's... fun! - she lied.

- I guess paradise is all right... - Oliver murmured, with a hint of something in his voice Aurora could swear it was jealousy, if she didn't know him better.

A couple of days had gone by and David kept talking more and more to Aurora, but she still felt incredibly uncomfortable. At least, she was getting closer and closer to her roommates, both Luke and David, as well as Oliver, and she could say with conviction Isabelle was the best friend she'd ever had. The lessons were also going well, Hogwarts already felt like a second home and she enjoyed pretty much all of her subjects.

   That Flying lesson was fun as always, of course, Aurora and Oliver had decided to start a little competition, trying to outdo each other. When Madam Hooch told them they could go at the end of class, she walked back with him and Isabelle as always. When they got to the entrance, David was also coming up from the Herbology greenhouses, and he screamed:

- Hey, Ace!

   Oliver disappeared so quickly Aurora could've sworn he had disapparated. She kept looking around, with David's arms uncomfortably around her, but she did not even spot him at the Gryffindor table.

   During lunch, Luke, David a few other Ravenclaws were talking about quidditch. Aurora did not pay much attention, eating her soup quietly, until she caught David's voice:

- ... First match of the season, I'll be playing for the school.

- How do you know that? - one of the guys asked, scoffing.

- I've got Ace - David said, once again putting his arms around Aurora. The other boys stared at her.

- What? - she asked quietly.

- You'll talk to Liam, won't you?

- Liam? Who's Liam?

- You know... The Ravenclaw captain. The tryouts for the team will start soon, they need a new Chaser, and well - David chuckled - I'm sure you'll tell him I'm a good fit... Right?! - he sounded much harsher at the last word.

- I... What? I dont even know this Liam guy, I've got nothing to do with it...!

- You're telling me you dont even know the Ravenclaw Quidditch team?

- Of course not..!

- Are you not related to the Lynch family, the Quidditch players? - one of the random guys asked.

   Aurora then understood. Of course. OF COURSE.

- You wanted to be friends with me to make the Quidditch team - she said, more to herself than to David.

- We are friends, Aurora - David stated, intensely staring at her - Of course you'll do this for me, right?!

- No! You can try to make the team but I wont do anything to help you. It's your own luck! - Aurora turned around in her seat, her face red in humiliation and her heart pumping fast.

- No? - David repeated.

- No! - Aurora stomped her feet.

   David's eyes narrowed.

- Let's see about that... Ace.

- Izzie, let's go - she whispered and she shot a desperate look at Isabelle, who also stood up quickly and followed her out of the Great Hall.

- I can't believe that guy! - Isabelle was shouting as soon as they closed their dormitory door in the Ravenclaw tower - I mean can you?! He was using you just to make the team! I can't BELIEVE it! We should-- Do you want to jinx him? What is a good jinx?!

- Izzie, stop - Aurora said, her face buried in her pillows. Isabelle sat down on the edge of Aurora's bed, next to her.

- I'm sorry. It's just-

- I think I just need to rest a bit...

- Of course. I'll tell Professor McGonagall that you feel ill, okay? - Isabelle gave Aurora a kind smile and slowly left the dorm. Aurora closed the curtains around her bed and tried her best to keep her sobs to a minimum. She felt so used, so worthless, and so stupid. She couldn't believe she would have to deal with such cunning people already... She couldn't believe she would have to start being so suspicious around any and everyone. Who really was her friend? Who was true? She had met Isabelle before she even knew about Aurora's family, yes, but had she remained friends because of it? Was Charlie from Hufflepuff a true friend? Were her roommates, Penelope and Georgia, true? Who could she trust?

   Aurora cried until she fell asleep. She woke up again after what felt several days later, with Isabelle lightly tapping her shoulder.

- It's time for dinner, Rory... Let's go...

- Thanks. Give me 2 minutes okay?

   Aurora ran to the shared bathroom. She looked in the mirror - she looked tired, but at least it was not obvious she was crying. She washed her face, breathed in and out loudly, and left with Isabelle downstairs towards the Great Hall.

#harry potter #oliver wood #oliver wood fanfiction #oliver wood fic #oliver wood smut #hogwarts #harry potter fic #hogwarts boys #sean biggerstaff #quidditch #hogwarts fic #hogwarts fanfiction #weasleys #potters #gryffindor #ravenclaw #slytherin #hufflepuff #fanfic #percy weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley #ginny weasley #hp fic #albus dumbledore #fantastic beasts

[highsviolets]

waterfall inquiry: javier peña x reader

pairing: javier peña x young analyst!reader

summary: words should not make you feel so much.

warnings: age gap. kissing. and - the worst of all - f e e l i n g s. (soft ones)

a/n: [edited 10 June ‘21] this was supposed to be three parts...and now there’s more. I regret nothing :) 

[next] [series masterlist] [main masterlist] * gif: @anakin-skywalker​

“Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name”

 “as kingfishers catch fire” | gerard manley hopkins

Neither of you should be here. Strictly speaking, at least.

The Embassy maintains regulations about these sorts of things, you’ve heard in jagged claims that coat the walls in a sickly iridescent sheen. Not the pretty kind that makes glitter sparkle. No, it’s the perverse shine — pyrite and oil spills on tepid water and those cheap kaleidoscopes they sell at county fairs.

Everything, it seems, is whispered here. Here at the Embassy, anyway; Colombia itself is a messy, irreverent place. A dreamlike people, an altered state where God acts as the intermediary between man and demons, not angels.

Perhaps that is why the Embassy is always quiet. The shrill clang of a phone ringing makes everyone start, fearful of keeping demons at bay. Even the PR reps speak in hushed tones, the words soft and soothing like cotton balls dipped in baby oil gliding across skin — crafting press releases each word slotted for a specific purpose, hand-picked with evolutionary precision.

It harasses you, stinging pricks drawing blood from beneath the surface of your bronze skin. Words should move freely, you believe. Like the way the Mississippi runs in during the spring melt: coarse, unimpeded, roiling in caught light, caressing the riverbanks as it soaks up all the world gives it — thrusting forward after a winter fraught in immobility, reveling in flinty purpose.

There’s a difference between words of fabrication and phrases of culled authenticity — the ones that stream from bleeding hearts, bound tightly by shoves and glares and hands that can’t keep still. Hands that grasp for something tangible. Anfractuous reminders of why they must be so careful, why they must keep the truth of themselves limited to brief instances of throwing back light or heat.

There is one man, you know, who thinks like you do — and he laughs at the fact that your jobs depend upon other people being careless with their words. Bandying about locations, codenames, numerals, what to buy at the grocery store. You can almost hear him, that marmalade voice spreading over you, eyes gleaming in smoke and fervor: yeah, carelessness gives us both a job. But it hurts, too.

Tonight, though. When you both are here when you really shouldn’t, you really fucking shouldn’t, not when you’ve been dreaming about him for…for how long? How long have you been in this country that makes a mockery of verisimilitude? Long enough, apparently, for everything else to blur when you look at him, for you to have memorized the way his shirts pull tight over his back when he’s leaned over his desk.

Eyes climb up the length of his torso, the slope of it heightened by the way he’s bracing his weight on his hands. His palms are spread wide and god as much as you think you want to stop the way your mouth runs dry at the sight his large palm, you can’t.

A sigh leaks out. The man in question spares a glance your way, matching the twist of his neck to the cigarette he brings to his lips. “You alright?” he mumbles around the thing, and you grip the desk’s edge a little harder at the sound, at the sight, of him in his element. His exhale — a finely tuned purse of the lips, discreetly directed away from your work — should feel the same as your sigh, but it doesn’t. It washes over you instead, and you rock in the way his existence ebbs and flows in and out of your person. Easy. Like breathing. Like all you have to do is breathe, and he’ll be there.

There are stories about him. When you had been sent down to Columbia as a junior analyst after the death of Escobar, you had quickly dived into the mythos the man. How could you not, when he was everywhere, the scent and swagger of him drawing eyes from every corner of the barricaded building?

The others — the replacements, someone had once termed the batch of new personnel flooding the country to fight Cali — had told you the stories; where they had heard them, you weren’t sure. Huddled over tepid drinks in the bar after work, blazers shrugged off and shirtsleeves rolled up, you had let them regale you of how he fought for years to bring down Escobar, only to be in Miami when his partner did the deed. How he fucks his informants; although, one of them admitted with a sigh, he hadn’t been known to do that in a while. How he was ruthless in the pursuit of justice. A fucking legend, man, someone had crowed about the older man, tongue loose with overpriced alcohol.

And through it all, there was you, eyeing the man himself across the bar. The embrace of his hands against the whiskey glass, the way he barely shuddered at the consuming burn of the stuff when he tossed it back in a behavioral gesture. He seems sad, is what you had thought. Whatever opposite of sad existed in this opulent measure of time by which you both abided — that’s what you wanted to do for him. To make him not-sad. He is aged, perhaps, but not old, rather like someone who could be young if they could shed the pallid skin of responsibility.

But you can’t play God in this country of fallen beings. Being consumes you instead, devolving into an obsession, hanging onto the ledge of yourself — gripping humanity and slicing rocks and graphite that stains your skin even as it slides away, too smooth to be held in hands that ache, swollen, from typing up reports detailing the tumbled-gravel sins of humanity.

He likes you. You think he might, anyway. He consults you before any of the others, and once or twice he’s dragged some Columbian officer into your tiny workspace, asking you to confirm the intelligence on whatever operation he’s desperate to get approved so he can do something. He asks with words that curl up and over themselves like whitecaps, one hand resting on his hip as he nods along to your recitation.

But it’s really his eyes you watch in these moments, aching in fluttering hope whenever they rest on yours. Javier Peña’s eyes when he visits you in your workspace are pleading thermoses of life under sterile fluorescent lights. He likes to send you a half-smile and a nod when you’re finished, tossing them over his shoulder as he escorts the man back to the Ambassador’s office. You are both too good at your job not to love it in some sick & twisted way, and he knows.

Other times he simply drops by. Leaning against your cubicle, he fiddles with a cigarette and chats with you as you work, asking questions that he knows he’s the only one examining.

Talk to me about the families of la cartel de Cali, he mutters, the hoarse sound deep and aching in your gut. About their mothers, daughters, sons, cousins, in-laws. Is anyone sick? Do they want to go on vacation? What’s the drama of the week, no, don’t laugh, — he smiles, here, barely, the delicate minutiae of the expression an external revelation of his magnetism — there always is in families. They’re human just like us. And that’s when he sighs, and looks across the hall, where in his office there’s a diagram of the Cali bosses splayed over the wall. Yeah...they’re like us.

Javier makes a slowly forms a habit of it, of stopping by your cubical and wrapping you in currents of charisma and truth. He does you a solid, too, bringing you to the attention of your superiors when he mentions your diligence. And you repay him in kind, taking care to slip into his office with new intelligence before the brass gets word. You tell yourself it’s simple mentorship. Mere patronage. He’s paying it forward, helping the young analyst get ahead in their career. These meetings are nothing to him, and they ought to be equally as empty to yourself. It’s just exchanges of information. Conversation between colleagues.

Of course, that doesn’t explain why you look forward to his fingers touching yours when you lend him a pen, or, when he makes some half-whispered joke in Spanish, it makes you shiver. Or the pride that blossoms in your chest, embracing you all soft and balmy, when he considers your words. He handles them like he does his favorite cigarettes, rolling them between his fingers, palming their weight, letting the texture seep into his skin before he lights them on fire.

You drop your pen a lot; he brings a finger to his mouth in thought. You don’t see the way he smiles when you do that, grinning at the muttered curse and roll of your eyes. And he decides that he likes the way you laugh about it; poking fun at your own mistakes, the skin that matches his own gleaming in the warm sun.

He can never do that. Perhaps he should? But he doesn’t make mistakes like that, toss-away interruptions of intended action. The mistakes he makes get people killed. All the more reason to keep checking with you, he reasons, to double-insure the intelligence. Can’t have another mess. And he likes to hear your laugh. Nothing wrong with that, he says. Nothing wrong with something that makes his heart stir and entices the eyes hidden behind yellow aviators to trace the length of your neck a little longer than strictly necessary when you throw your head back in unmarked joy.

And tonight, in his office? Tonight he seems melancholic again, like the first time you saw him across the bar. He keeps shifting his weight, one hand on his hip, and then on the table, and then shrugging off both his jacket and his tie and tossing them unceremoniously onto the couch, limbs extending listlessly. It’s as close to careless as he gets.

Or maybe it’s just the exhaustion fusing into you both. You feel slow and hazy, torn between staring at him and bleary eyes glaring at the map beneath his fingers. if you just look at it longer, you think, you can will it all to fall into place. and maybe if you did he would kiss you, and maybe he would kiss you the way he has always wanted to live.

Maybe if you traced your tongue along his exposed collarbone, penning of licks of hope in the space where his words seem to get caught, where his perpetually open collar leaves him defenseless to an onslaught of physical impressions…maybe then, he’d exhale in blessed adoration, taken outside of himself for just one moment.

He’s asking you a question. You alright? He does that a lot, you realize. Checks in with you. When you answer, he laughs — those delightful eyes seeping warmth into your weary bones as they crinkle in a smile — and he reminds you to call him Javier. He — Javier — has rebuked you at least three times tonight alone, but you’ve yet to oblige his request. If you do, if you let your tongue caress his sacred name and rest in its life-sodden weight, you fear…

you do not know what you fear. you do not know how saying his name will shift the tides in your life. but you know that you will remain forever anchored to him, tethered to his lunar opacity.

“What’s this?” you ask instead, shifting to rest against the desk. You’re beside him now, hip adjacent to his as you look up at him. Latent smoke hovers overhead, and locks of his hair have come undone after the long hours of work and now rest over his forehead small waves. It looks like it aches, being so out of place, and yet so distinctly him. Caught. Destined to arch over his tanned skin, all the while lingering in a place where it should not. Not here, anyway. Not tonight, in his office, far after everyone else has gone home.

“What’s what?” Javier rejoins, distracted, still bent over the desk, still bracing his weight on those fingers.

Rustling papers catch his attention, and he twists to meet your gaze. “This.” You point to the unfamiliar word, stamped out in standard font. “My Spanish is decent, but I’ve never seen this word before.”

The wrinkles behind the shield of his fallen hair press together as he cranes his neck, adjusting his stance to read the word on the paper you thrust in his direction. It clears rapidly though — the visage sailing and unfurling itself when he absorbs the story hidden in-between letters on a page.

He repeats the word back to you, leaning into the sound the way he leans into you, inching closer in his explanation. You stare at his lips, completely captivated — his tongue catching between his teeth — the purse of his lips — the rearrangement of his jaw as it conforms to the aerodynamics of structured syllables.

“Strictly speaking,” he says, eyes roving your face, deep and dark, “it means elf, or spirit. Something ethereal. It’s used in stories a lot.” The words are smooth, smokey, whiskey-like as you let them drip down your skin, the insides of your thighs. “Entiendes?”

Your body temperature rises. You can feel it — the way your mouth’s run dry and the paper’s slippery in your grip. Did his voice drop lower when he used the familiar form of the verb, not the formal? You think it did. Oh god, he’s so close, he could just extend a hand across your body and it could rest on your hip. You had never really noticed his height either, always in heels. Tonight, though, the heels are in the corner with his jacket and tie and you realize that he’s inches above you, yet somehow still within reach.

“What’s” — you swallow thickly, desperate to remain professional despite your wide eyes, the tongue tracing your lower lip — “what’s the non-strict definition of the word?”

He gives you one of his trademark smirks. “It can also mean,” he says, “enchanting. Charming. For someone or something to be magical.”

Nodding slowly, you drop your eyes down to the paper again, desperate to avoid his gaze. It follows you, watching your eyes hide even as you adjust to be ever-closer, a bare foot extending outward and brushing against the fabric of his dress pants. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Say it,” you hear him urge, your head bolting up, incredulous. And you try, you really do, but it’s so new and unfamiliar and you’re so goddamn nervous with him looking at you, that you fuck it up. Words are but the vessels by which emotions themselves are expressed, so maybe the act of speaking should not make you feel all by itself. But it does — oh, god, it does, and you feel like you’ve shrunk in the process, dwarfed by this man with rolled up shirt sleeves wrapped around muscular forearms, who grins impishly around his cigarette.

“Not quite.” He stubs out the thing, and to your surprise, brings hand to your jaw, cupping your chin in-between his thumb and forefinger. “Say it again.”

“No, I can’t; I..“ you protest, and for what? because you don’t want him near you? no, that’s not it, but you’re being branded by his touch all the same.

“Say it again,” he commands again, more gently this time, his words accompanied by an encouraging nod.

You comply readily, sounding out the syllables. His strong fingers manipulate your movements, guiding you in pronouncing the difficult phrase. It’s forceful and noble, a tender yet compelling influence that teaches you how to wrap yourself in the meaning of the word as much the word itself. You’re tingling; is it from the thrill of achieving or from his sturdy hand against your bare skin?

He doesn’t back away when you’re finished speaking, but holds your stare. Dimly, you register the steady crescendo in your breathing. He’s not immune to your proximity either: his Adam’s apple bobs as he pushes down the deficit of hope flooding oppressive maxim of his presence. Times stretches as you remain caught in his hold, coursing through you, carrying you downstream in brash, coarse recklessness. Are the emotions you swim in those eyes yours, or his, or some measure of both?

The pads of his fingers migrate, drifting to rest along your cheek and tumble into his touch like a moth to flame, or fish to water, or whatever trite phrase people use to make sense of such profound belonging.

Javier is mesmerized with the way his fingertips trace your cheekbones, the shell of your ear, along your jaw, returning to outline your lips.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice scrapes along your bliss, and you force your eyes open to see that he’s moved even closer, closer-than-close, so tight against you that you’re nearly leaning back over the desk.

“Do you want me to?” His eyes are dark and still now, but for the way they’re trained on yours as you whisper fate into existence.

“No — fuck — I shouldn’t, I —“ his jaw shifts again, this time in agitation, but it is you who does the deed, cutting him off, reaching out to tug on his collar. The action pulls him forward, pressing himself against you, caging you between the desk and the broadness of his firm chest.  And you do know it’s firm now, at last slipping your hands underneath that truant fabric and gliding along his smooth skin. His hands find your waist, gripping your hips as he meets your lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

He — Javier, now — kisses you a single-minded intent, letting his lips slide over yours lazily, over and over, memorizing the imprint of you against his mouth. One hand drifts upward again, cupping your cheek as he tilts your head slightly, letting his tongue delve into your mouth and trace your teeth. It makes you gasp, and you retaliate with a gentle nip to his lower lip, silently begging for more. Javier moans into your mouth, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

Tightening his grip on your waist, Javier lifts you, placing you firmly on the desk, feet dangling a few inches from the floor. You know what he wants before he even has to ask and you give it him readily, wrapping your legs around his waist. Javier’s weight conforms to your own, molding against your body as you press into him, back arching in your submersion to his touch.

He is so eager; his kisses drench you in a deluge of incubated affection interspersed with need. Grasping at his shoulder, you pull him even closer, your other hand anxiously fiddling with his buttons as you sigh, reveling in the storm of his attention. Slowly, painstakingly, driven by a clamoring need for oxygen, he drags himself away from you, parting slowly, ever-loth to break the kiss.

You can’t help the shy smile that dances around your lips when you look up at him, standing above you. His chest is heaving, out of breath, hair somehow even more mussed than it was before. You suppose you can touch it now, so you do, two fingers brushing aside the fringe on his forehead.

Time, and space, and whatever else this stuff is made of have prevented from this alternate reality. until now. it has broken through the dam and caught you up in its awakening, broad and unrepentant.

Javier captures your hand as it lowers, pressing a kiss to the side of your palm. He’s so tender it makes you ache, and you wonder if this is why he stopped fucking his CIs. He requires something more intangible than what they could give him. “Javier,” you whisper.

He hums a question, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles as he watches you consider him, emotion lapping at the shores of unkempt eyes.

“You asked me to use your name. Earlier, I mean.” Should you feel embarrassed? Kissing a man several years your senior? Maybe you should. But you don’t. There’s a cordial warmth spreading through you, bolstered by his gentle touch, the outward connection of him and you that’s been built through months of inanimate remembrances.

“I know.” Javier nods and leans in again, his breath rippling across your skin. “Can you say it one more time, princesa? They say you need to do something three times” — a kiss to your cheek — “to make sure you really —“ a kiss to your forehead — “understand” — a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

The words fall out of your mouth, splashes of unrestrained affection dappling each letter. “Duende, Javier,” you murmur against his lips. “Duende.”

javi tags: @frannyzooey @yespolkadotkitty @rentskenobi @goldenkenobi ​ @goldafterglow @teaofpeach ​ @justrunamok ​ @huliabitch @cri-me-a-river @littlevodika @catsnkooks @themarvelousbear @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @ladytrashbird @princessxkenobi @roxypeanut @dracos-jedi-marvel @a-seeker-of-imagination​ // taglist link in bio!

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x reader insert #agent peña x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #YES I NOW HAVE THREE JAVI SERIES #DON'T @ ME #I HATE IT TOO OKAY #i simply have no self control when it comes to him #it's f i n e #this was supposed to be!! 800 words!! #and now it's over 3k!! #what the fuck!! #cris write something without meta challenge #i listened to glamour child on repeat writing this #and it definitely shows #whoops #fic: waterfall #cw age gap #alkskd is this fic even coherent tho #bc idk #?!!? #usernobie #cris writes #highsviolets #filthybookworm

[dilfwaynes]

wayne manor firsts |  j. todd

summary: though it wasn’t your first time at a ball, it was your first kiss.

word count ; 830

pairings ; jason todd x reader

genre ; fuff

warnings: none

a/n: sorry it took so long anon, i hope you enjoy this !! not edited.

flowerets of red, white, and fuses of blue heaps along your eyesight as rounds of blarney staff scatters round the pale and gloss marble fast-paced, hurried voices splurging circumlocution of demands, advice, and input; you bear down at the scene from the crown of the flight of steps of wayne manor. palm curved around dark oak whilst you watched the rushed folding of the ball that’ll soon be unfolding all of the trice in some loose hours, or at least what most in the room would count as ‘trice’

“nervous?” the voice behind the question laces out to sound in between of teasing and actual concern, your lips quirk upwards, rolling your eyes, pressing a swift stime to his latterly appearance. garb for the current occasion that’s drawing on mere inches away from the steps you both stand on,”careful todd, i might actually start to think you care.”

“eh i wouldn’t go that far,” he briskly rebuts, throwing a fast glance at your attire for the night - the darken green valentino sprawls against your dainty frame, silk bleeding to lace to meet bare skin. blue settling on the navel of exposed cut of cleavage on a lone moment, blinking away his gaze he follows your interest to the events taking place downstairs,”esotericism is your thing for this sort of stuff, anyways.” jason states nonchalantly.

you suppose he’s right, your mother and father had no problem disposing of all thoughts and ideals you had they found unworthy, and simply crushing them and breaking you into the model of a perfect socialite, molding you into docility easily; rather from them, or your many instructors in all aspects of settings that your parents found fit. though you jar your sight towards him and away from your previous view as your eyebrows jut in slight surprise at his use of  superior words, and correct wording for the fitting context.” look at you using big words” you tease a smile appearing on your face the first time today, he rolls his eyes at your reaction and reply, his heed remaining on the same thing you were moments ago.” you should start being careful now jason, i’m starting to think you’re caring, and learned a new word just for me.”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes once again to dissemble any factors to your— lack for a better word— guess,”oh, please y/n.” your smile halts at his sudden stiff state, you gaze at him as realization makes its way through, his cheeks tinted a light pink, the tips of his ears burned a bright red.”oh my god, you actually learn that word for me.”

“and is it so wrong if i did?” the question lows out to be sulkily, his face harden as he already expected to be made fun of and simply no chance of cull tied by you. the frown resting in between his brow bone, the velvet suit crushing from the  strength applied onto the staircase handler, his eyes abruptly snapping back towards you, irked to get a response.

you tighten your lips at his fast throw away from his bashful state, insecurity and pre embarrassment thoughts ticking in his head already.” nothing,” you clear out as you remain eye contact with him” i think it's cute.”

the crease smooths out at your latter, the tension of rejection quickly leaving, as well as the thought of being made fun of and laughed at, intensity of something else resolving its place.”i like you jason, if that wasn’t already the obvious.”

his lips slightly part, going over what to say, tell you how he feels the same, something he never had the luxury of feeling before, or the luxury of someone repeating the same feelings for him, but instead he opts to pursing his lips. his tongue lightly running over his dry lips, reaching his hand out of his suit pocket, he grabs yours, gently running his thumb across your knuckles - the other grasping your tiny waist as he tries to speak up.”i like... you, i like you too. maybe more than you like me, actually.”

you squeak out a soft laugh, shaking your head,”i doubt that one, todd.” his voice contains quiet, his hand now cupping your cheek, your smile falls some at his movements of leaning in,”i never kissed someone, just so you know, in case i’m completely and utterly awful at it,”you mindless confess,”what if i’m really, really bad at it and you don’t like me anymore.”your smile tugging upwards at his low laugh.

“i don’t care, besides you can never be awful at something, esotericism is your thing, remember?”

“oh my god stop before you start using the word incorrectly please,” he lets out a soft laugh, his head dipping down, lowering to kiss you -  immobile for a second before you close your eyes melting into the kiss swiftly, mostly trying to match to rhythm to jason’s lead. his hands landing on your waist as he softly rests his forehead against yours.

“learning the definition of words was worth it.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #batman #red hood x reader #red hood #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #jason todd imagine #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagines #dc comics #x reader #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #batfam x reader #batboys x reader

[sound-of-the-cosmos]

Trauma (Detective! Reader x Connor)

Thanks for the request! I have to admit I’m a sucker for this kind of stuff, and protective Connor is pretty fun as well- 

Also, abusive on the police force? *Cough* Detective douchebag? *cough*

This got away from me a little ^^; But! I hope you enjoy!

“Stand alone, my soul is jealous; It wants love, but I reject it. Trade my Joy for my protection.” 

- NF, Trauma

Warnings: TW: Abuse, swearing, mentions of violence, asshole boyfriend, anxiety, mentions of PTSD

Most people in your situation went to work, and got time away from their ‘significant other,’ although you know that’s not something you could call yours anymore. They were able to get away from the people who made their lives seem like a waste; to get away from the people who hurt them over and over again.

 But it seems, of course, that you couldn’t be that lucky. You worked at the Detroit Police Department (DPD) and had for over 5 years. You had started as just an intern, but you’d proved pretty valuable only 6 months after. You’d helped solve a Red Ice related case, which led you to become friends with a man known as Hank Anderson. 

Your significant other was none other than Gavin Reed; you had met him in college and had been charmed into a toxic relationship only 2 years later. You’d been with him for a extremely long time. Now, you wanted out. You knew you had to get out.

But every time you got close to opening up to someone, like Hank, or your friend/coworker/android, Connor- He’d know. He would assault you to the point you couldn’t go in the next day, and you constantly lied; you said that you’d fallen, or that you’d gotten in a fight, or it was a case.

Hank knew Gavin was a piece of shit the moment he laid eyes on him. He couldn't fathom why someone as kind as you were with... that. Connor could tell something wasn’t right, but his orders weren’t to look after you and Hank- even though that may help the case. Due to this, he never asked.

This brought you to where you are today, clutching your side as you run through the rain, your skin all shades of black, blue and purple. Your lip was split, and you were certain you would have a black eye. You ran, swearing as your clumsy footing causes you to slam into the pavement. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you glance around, not seeing your so-called ‘boyfriend’ anywhere.

This is when the emotions that you had begun to bottle up finally let loose, and a choked sob passes your lips. Withdrawing one of your hands off your side, you push yourself up. The ground where your hand had touched was a deep crimson, before the rain washes it away. Your vision blurs as you stand, and you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re dizzy, or if it’s tears.

Looking around, you realize you were in your friend’s neighborhood. You swallow hard, before deciding to approach the beige and brick house. Valarie was your best friend, but she didn’t know about Gavin. You prayed she would merely assume it was a case.

You reach the door, and lightly knock, your vision going dark around the corners. The door opens, and you see her shocked features before everything goes black.

.

.

.

.

Your body aches as your consciousness floods back, but it seems to be moderately less than before. You weren’t drenched anymore, and there was a pressure on your side as well. 

Your eyes gradually open, squinting against the harsh light. Sound slowly trickles in through the buzzing in your ears, and you overhear a harsh voice. 

"What do you mean just showed up?! In the shape she’s in she shouldn’t have been walking!” It took a moment to recognize the voice as Hank’s. You couldn’t hear the reply, but a composed voice interjects, and your blood runs cold.

“She had a case with a deviant. I didn’t see her last night.” Gavin. He was going to haul you back to his house and you k n e w that he would kill you. No one ever took care of you when you passed out, he usually merely allowed you lay on the floor. 

You’d have to bandage yourself up and come up with a lie so no one would be worried. A hand takes yours, and you jerk violently the other direction. Your eyes shoot to meet the android that you and Hank had been working with. You’d always seen him as a living creature, even though he’d always persist that he wasn’t.

In this moment, he was more human that you’d ever perceived him, aside from the gunfight at the top of Stratford Tower. His LED flashes from yellow, to red, then back to yellow. “Y/n, are you alright? What happened to you?” His voice is calm, and possesses a note of what you’d almost call concern. His eyebrows furrowed together as he surveyed your injuries. 

“These injuries weren’t from a deviant... I know you weren’t assigned a case, we work together after all. These are blunt force traumas, and you seems to be in a slight state of shock.” He spoke matter-of-factly, which you should’ve expected, however you couldn’t help the tight feeling growing in your chest. 

Has he pieced it together? If he had, Gavin would kill you. You thought you were going to die many times after he’d beaten you, but it always seemed like God retained a sense of humor, as you were never out too long.

“Y/n,” Connor tries, but you’re lost in your thoughts as your breathing picks up. Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpse Gavin enter the room.

He grips your arm, and instinctively you bring your free hand up to your face, terrified of what was going to happen. You can hear a chair falling, and before you can process anything, a harsh stinging sensation explodes on your cheek.A pair of hands take Gavin’s off of your body, and rams him into the wall. Connor’s LED was flashing red, and Gavin was seething with anger. He opens his mouth, but Connor beats him to it.

“What you’ve done to her is unforgivable, Detective Reed. What was your reason for doing this to Y/n? She comes to work with injuries that aren’t case related, and always seems unnerved in your presence. What was your reason?” His voice is pure anger, and raises in volume as he speaks. 

“She fucks things up, and she’s just a pain in the ass to have around-” Before being able to complete his sentence, Connor lands a harsh blow to Gavin’s jaw, his body crumpling to the ground shortly after.

Connor’s nose scrunches a little for a moment, before he speaks. “Incorrect. There isn’t a reason to ever injure someone you claim to appreciate. If you believe there is, then you don’t genuinely treasure them.” His voice shakes a little with anger, and you were shaking slightly.

Connor had just... stopped it. It was genuinely that simple, you should’ve just told him about what had been going on. He turns to face you, his face softening. 

Hank and Valarie burst into the room, and Hank takes a look at Gavin on the floor with a sneer and a slight smirk. “Fuckin’ prick.”

After Gavin had been taken out, you told Connor everything. How he would hurt you, threaten you, admonish you... all of it. In certain places, Connor would seem to grow angry, his LED flashing red momentarily, before dropping back into yellow. 

When it came to what he did in the bedroom, you locked up, and instead of words, let out a choked sob. You cover your mouth, tearing up, and Connor gently places a hand on your shoulder.“We don’t have to talk about all of it right now; just describe what you’re comfortable with for the time being. We can work up to the other things later, alright?” His voice was tender, and you felt a small feeling bubble up in your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

With him, you were safe. 

And your source of Trauma couldn’t hurt you when you were with him.

// A h the first time I posted this, Tumblr had a seizure and got rid of all my paragraphs ;0;

// It’s fixed now! Also, this is a new part, please only reblog my one shots unless you’re giving me credit ^^; thank you!

//edit: I feel like this should be said as this is my most popular post; I personally experienced an abusive relationship, and was able to do get out of it about 2 years ago. Writing things like this, even if it isn’t even the same type of abuse that I experienced, is almost therapeutic.

//if any of you are experiencing an abusives relationship, whether it be a friend, lover or family member, you deserve to be free of that. You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to get better. Please remember that 💕

#Bryan dechart #DBH #detroit become human #Connor Detroit become human #Connor dbh #DBH angst #Detroit become human angst #RK800 #RK800 x reader #Connor x reader #Connor dbh x reader #dbh x reader #reader #Connor RK800 #Angst #x reader #x reader angst #protective #protective connor #protective rk800 #Detective douchebag #Gavin Reed #DBH gavin #Detroit become human gavin #Hank Anderson #DBH hank #Detroit become human Hank #mine

[raayllum]

(Same person who asked about if Book 1 shed more light on Corvus, Gren, Amaya's backstory) Thank you for responding so quickly! Also, thank you for all you do for TDP community! I feel that you created a safe space here & are a leader in this fandom. And with all leadership, that comes with good and bad stuff (hopefully, mostly good). So my sincerest thanks for all the posts, edits, fics and metas. You Are AWESOME!

Thank you!! There are some asks I have not answered for forever but that one seemed more easily answered and a little time sensitive - I wanted you to be able to start your project as soon as you wanted, haha! And I hope you have an amazing time writing it <3

and thank you!! i don’t usually take leadership positions (too much responsibility) unless no one else is doing it and someone has to step up, and i’m not gonna claim that’s what happened here, bc i am one noob with a laptop and a lot of love for these characters and this world. i can say my experience in tdp fandom has been 98% positive and i am very grateful for it. every day, i’m glad & grateful you guys like all of the things i do here to explore stuff and have fun and relax <3 making a positive impact on other people’s lives and the power of small kindnesses and the little things are principles i really believe in and spreading those things here is something i really love

so thank you again for taking the time of your day to send this nice message with your kind words <3 you are the awesome one, friend. i am merely the embodiment of this glorious gif

#thanks for asking #dragons rambles #rayllum fandom #sort of?? #anonymous #<3 #Anonymous

[scifinal]

DW s12e10: It's Quite Unfortunate That This Child Keeps On Regenerating

It's only fitting that the first post on a blog called "SciFinal" should be about a season finale.

Not that fitting is the fact that in said post I'm going to begin where it all started for me.

Part One: How I Even Got into This Mess of a Show in the First Place

While I call myself a huge Doctor Who fan, even a – *gasp* – Whovian, I must admit I am not as familiar with the franchise as I would like to be; I've seen the new show, I've seen Torchwood (though, admittedly, I had to force myself to finish the fourth season – but that's a story for another day), I've listened to a handful of audio dramas (including Kaldor City, which I consider to be canon for both DW and Blake's 7) – mostly Torchwood audio dramas, but who cares, – I've read a couple of comics, I've got a novel or two somewhere on my bookshelf, I've seen the first couple of seasons of the classic show, but that's about it. I can't say I grew up with it – it wasn't on TV when I was a kid, there isn't an official Ukrainian dub, et cetera, et cetera. I first heard about it when I was about thirteen, when my classmate did a project about something they liked – and was pretty dismissive of my peers' hobbies at the time, believing myself to be somewhat above them, so I didn't pay much attention.

Then somebody finally pressured me into watching it (I believe I was fifteen or something back then) and I loved it. The first two episodes of the first season, I mean. I watched those, texted my friend something like "consider me a Whovian now!" and abandoned the show completely only to return to it maybe several years later.

I loved it. This time, for real.

Doctor Who has been with me ever since that time, it has a big soft spot reserved for each and every Doctor ever in my heart, and for each and every companion. I know full well it's cheesy, and it's stupid, and it's technobabble-y, and it's glorious in all of its cheesy technobabble-y stupidity.

And I hate this finale.

Part Two: Doctor, Why

I hate this finale – because I hate Chris Chibnall. Mind you, not the gentleman himself (I don't even know what he looks like, and I can't be bothered to Google), I hate what he did to Doctor Who.

Now, when it was revealed that the would replace Steven Moffat I felt... nothing. What did you expect? I had no idea who the man was. I know now he's made Broadchurch, and I know he wrote a bunch of stuff for Torchwood back in the day, including Cyberwoman. I had to drop Broadchurch because of how well-handled the depressing atmosphere was, and I love the flawed, dumb, sexy-cyber-bikinied, almost-fifteen-minutes-of-Ianto's-whining-including (I know because some time ago I literally cut almost every single moment of Gareth David-Lloyd whimpering, moaning, groaning, screaming, and mugging at the camera out of the episode and made those bits and pieces into a beautiful clip show called "I HATE THIS" to explain exactly why his face was and still is so punchable) mindless fun that is Cyberwoman (this is also one of the two episodes in which they actually do something fun with the pterodactyl living inside Torchwood's underground base). The latter also led to the creation of one amazing in how it develops Ianto's character audio drama entitled "Broken". I love Broken. I am now forcing you to look at its cover because of how much I love it.

Here we go. Now, back to the point of me rambling pointlessly

In his video "Sherlock Is Garbage, and Here's Why", a well-known YouTuber hbomberguy pointed out how Steven Moffat's problem is that he is more than capable of writing a good one-off episodes, but ultimately fails at managing multiple complex, overarching stories, as visible when you look at the difference between Moffat's individual episodes and his run on the show.

Now, I believe that Chris Chibnall suffers from the same affliction: he's a good screenwriter but a terrible, terrible showrunner. Sure, he's made Broadchurch, but Broadchurch, in its essence, was a complete singular story with a beginning, a middle, and an end. There were no bigger, incomplete arcs expanding at the expense of other episodes, and the show did exactly what it was originally designed to do: it told an uninterrupted story.

Here comes Chris Chibnall's run on Doctor Who.

Now, while Steven Moffat was ultimately not very good at managing overarching stories, he tried to do so nonetheless, and the fans seemed to like his attempts. And while I can't be sure as to whether it was Chris' original vision for the show or he and his co-writers were merely trying to emulate Moffat, he attempted the same. A friend of mine has even pointed out how, to her, it was painfully obvious how the writers of the finale were desperately trying to copy Moffat's style (to give you some context, she grasped it from a 30-second clip of the CyberMasters' reveal, and that clip basically consisted of me filming my laptop's screen and laughing at their design, making the video wobbly and the audio distorted). At the time of writing this post this friend hasn't seen a single episode of Chibnall's era and, as far as I know, has no wish to do so – mainly because of two reasons that both have something to do with the finale:

Somebody's already spoiled it for her, so who cares;

I ranted to her about how shit this finale is and now she hates everything about Chibnall era.

I am very sorry for the latter, since I genuinely believe there are some nice episodes in these seasons, and I especially like the "historical" ones, they really are quite a lot of fun, I like Nikola Tesla and Thomas Edison fighting badly CG-ed alien scorpions, I love Lord Byron and Mary Shelley running around a haunted house trying to escape from a Cyberman (even though it's all too similar to the Agatha Christie episode from Russel T Davies' run), I adore that episode about Rosa P–– oh, wait, no, that one was crap and ripped off Blake's 7... Anyway, I love Jodie Whittaker's Doctor, I am a big fan of Graham, I like Ryan just fine, and I can put up with Yaz, even though it's been two seasons and I've still got no idea what's her personality supposed to be, and I absolutely love the new Master (he reminds me of a cute little pug with a big Tommy gun). There is plenty of good stuff in these two seasons, they are lots of fun to watch, but this finale... Oh god, this finale.

Part Three: We Had All of Time and Space at Our Fingertips and We Ended Up with This

We are getting to the point of this whole thing. I would love to begin with the obvious, the twist, but there's so much wrong with this who-cares-how-many-parter than this one big thing.

It is inept. It is impotent. It is incompetent. It is bad at almost everything except its okay camera work, somewhat good (for a British TV show, I mean) effects, and its really solid performances.

Its editing is tone-deaf to the extreme. There is a moment in the final episode where Ko Sharmas asks who will be the first to cross the Boundary and step into the unknown, and immediately it cuts to Yaz walking towards it, all fast and silent. I would love to show you a clip of it, but I don't have one and I can't force myself to download the episode and sit through this shitshow again just to present you with a ten-second clip. Nonetheless, that part is not edited like a dramatic moment. You edit comedies this way. Bad comedies. Bad editors edit bad comedies this way.

Its plot is incoherent. There are several plot threads in this finale, and they're managed in a way that doesn't make the viewer care about all of them at the same time, rather the viewer goes "oh, I've completely forgotten this was happening" and then, before they can even begin to care, the show cuts to something else. It's all over the place and oh so annoying.

The plot armour is painfully obvious despite every attempt to disguise it. There wasn't a single, solitary second when I believed the Doctor was really going to sacrifice herself and, lo and behold, here comes the old guy ex machina to do it for her. The only questions I was asking at that moment were "How are the writers going to prevent the Doctor's death now that they've seemingly created themselves a way to go on forever?" and "How can Whittaker care so much about her performance in this scene she's literally almost crying?". I wholeheartedly related to the Master asking "So why are we still here?" and shout–– hiss–– mumbl–– whatever-ing "Come on, come on, come on!" – at that point I've suffered through at least forty-five minutes of utter nonsense, people going preachy, religious Cybermen with Dalek motivations, that absolutely ludicrous scene in the previous episode when the show was trying its worst to make me perceive autonomous flying Cyber-heads with laser eyes as a serious threat, a shit twist and... Oh.

I've got to finally touch on the shit twist, haven't I?

It doesn't make sense. No, I mean it. I guess it makes sense from the show's writers' standpoint to retcon everything in a way that would allow them to go on forever without having to come up with a way to circumvent limited regenerations, yes. And I won't be touching upon all the lore people say this twist has ruined. No. It doesn't make sense as it is.

The twist is revealed to us by a madman that claims to have hacked into a database, claims to possess control over the Doctor's mind, and gives the Doctor and the audience no actual solid proof that the Timeless Child is, indeed, the Doctor. We have Ruth, sure, and she's nice enough (damn, I want that vest), and she's a Timelord that happens to own a TARDIS that looks like a blue police telephone box, and she calls herself the Doctor. Here's Ruth:

I really like Ruth. She also makes no sense from the show's timeline standpoint, since the Doctor's Type 40 TARDIS only got stuck looking like a police box in 1963, so there's no reason for the Doctor to not remember being her.

We also know that the Judoon have identified Ruth as "the Fugitive"... except in one of their previous appearances in the show they weren't able to identify their targets exactly and thus were seeking out non-humans. There is a possibility that they were only looking for a Time Lord on Earth.

You know what? It's possible that Ruth is actually the Master messing with the Doctor. I have just as much proof of this as I have of the fact that the Doctor is some kind of an endlessly regenerating superbeing.

But this is not the most maddening thing here. I loathe it, but I don't loathe the twist itself: I loathe its lifelessness, I loathe how empty, how unemotional, almost robotic it feels. When somebody'd spoiled the finale for me, I got angry, and I started asking questions, and when later I saw the actual thing...

This gif. I can't even explain how accurate it is. I stood there, in the middle of my kitchen, episode paused, holding a cup of cold tea and desperately looking around as if in my surroundings I could somehow find that emotional reaction that this show failed to evoke. I was ready to burst into tears of how empty it felt, and how empty I felt, and how the same show that has Christopher Eccleston go from literally foaming at the mouth with pure hatred to shocked silence in a matter of second because of one sentence that you, a viewer, can't help but be astonished by failed to make me feel the tiniest speck of literally any emotion. And slowly, I felt that vast void in my chest fill with sheer, pure, flaming hatred for the person who made me feel nothing, for the story that left me not bored – but empty.

And the next moment, in its own unique way of being absolutely tone-deaf, the show introduces the CyberMasters, looking ridiculous, being asinine in concept, making me burst into laughter with their dumb design. Wow.

So.

Chris Chibnall's Doctor Who is no longer a show. Chris Chibnall's Doctor Who isn't even, as somebody on Stardust said, a fan fiction. It's a rollercoaster. A lackluster rollercoaster that lifts you from the vast caverns of frozen hell, devoid of any life whatsoever, soulless and abandoned, to the heavenly torture of being so bad, so utterly awful and ridiculous, that you can't help but laugh as you watch something you used to love be distorted and deformed to the point where you can't recognise it anymore nor really care. This is what Chris Chibnall's Doctor Who has become. And I'm going to continue my ride on that grotesque rollercoaster. I'm going to pirate that ride and get on it again. Because I'm a masochist. Because I want to feel something, even if it's hatred towards those that make me feel nothing.

Because some time ago my fifteen-year-old self watched the first season and learned a lesson that I hold dear after all these years – that I can't abandon hope, and that someday, somehow, things are going to get better. That the future is being written right now. That the future can change.

#doctor who #thirteenth doctor #doctor who review #i hate this #review #sci fi

[derekscorner]

DMC Tangent #4

Classic DMC & Angels

Something I talked about in a previous tangent was the potential I felt the reboots lore had. Namely, I was intrigued by Nephilim since the existence of Nephilim means Angels are a truly distinct race by default.

I bring this up because (segway!) I find the fascination with Angels within DMC4 interesting. The knights of the Order believe they’ve become Angels through their “ascension ceremony”. As said by Credo above:

We know angels exist to some degree in the classic universe and it even seems some humans idolize them as they would in our world. However, the interesting thing to me is that the Classic series seems to paint them as one and the same. (at least that’s how I’ve always taken it)

This was best displayed in the DMC3 prequel manga:

Arkham states they were once one and the same yet also calls Vergil’s stance semantics. Vergil merely brushes off as a legend by saying “so I hear”. It’s left ambiguous but at the same time I could see why some humans would worship demons as angels or even gods.

There’s an enemy class in DMC3 called The Fallen, Mundus’ first few forms are that of an angelic statue, and some demons even have angelic appearances and light based powers. (such as the boss Beowulf)

Humans are always desperate to cling to something other than themselves. To see these beings gifted with magic, supernatural bodies and, in the case of upper demons, nigh on immortality...well it’d make sense what would follow. Even Sparda was considered a god.

Hell, even I felt godly in the DMC1 final boss battle. Dante, via Sparda’s Sword, and Mundus have a godly battle throughout the demon realm. It’s fucking glorious.

Knowing all of this, I think Vergil is correct. It’s the same type of extra dimensional entity and at one point these two planes or reality (demon & human) were connected for an unknown amount of time.

We know Sparda sealed most of the gates and had kept the realms separate for 2000 years but that’s only recent. We also know demons have lots of variety in shape and ability so it’d make sense that many demons had religions and many human worshipers before Mundus rose to absolute power.

Arkham called is semantics and I think it truly is but it’s interesting angels would hold a similar hold on people in this world despite demons being a common occurrence.

Credo thought he had become an angel but Nero is right, all he did was become a demon. Arkham thinks they were once and the same but Vergil is right, allegiances for some may have shifted but a devil is a devil.

It almost feels like a meta commentary at times. DMC4 is heavy with religious stuff, well as full of it as a DMC game can be (let’s be fair), but the series does paint this picture. An “angel” is an idiolized devil, beings humans revere and deify yet beings that usually care little for them.

One of the most demonic looking devils, Sparda, cared more for humans than the entire host of hell. If that’s not irony I dont know what is.

As for the actual God, well, never clarified. At most, Nero shifts between discounting God and thanking him for his demonic arm soooo take that as you will.

Hey, thanks for reading my ramble! Just so ya know, I dont mean to say DMC is saying religon is bad. Nothing is good nor bad until a person makes it that way.

I just think it’s an interesting take to have on the angel/demon concept. Although, I would argue DMC4 halfheartedly warns you to be careful about what you call an angel or god.

Edit: It’s a fun thing to note but it’s only humans and demons that were once human that refer to angels. Demons, namely the sons of Sparda, usually discount or scoff at the notions when they arise.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc3 #dmc4 #dmctangent

[forged-through-trials]

With that business in the Market District finished, Ruin and I legged it over toward the Arcane University. The place was considerably ornate, and it felt like there was a charge in the air the instant I stepped through the door. The classrooms and facilities were off-limits to visitors, but I could go into the Entrance/Reception Lobby. Once inside there, I asked around about Boderi Farano, and thankfully Raminus Polus here was nice enough to offer to fetch her.

She arrived in two shakes of a guar’s tail, and I explained the situation and what I needed from her, offering her the three books I’d pinched from Grayrock Cave. Boderi: “Yes, I recognize this language. It’s definitely Ogrish. It is fairly rare to find so much written in this language. The Ogres are not very clever, and most don’t bother learning to write and read. “This one, however, was quite the prolific author. The words start coming and they don’t stop coming. Quill in the ink and he hit the page, runnin’.” Trials: “Yes, but what are the books about?” Boderi: “A cooking book, recipes for fun “A book of spells for a mage-y one “So much to do, so much to see “Book number three is a di-ar-y!” Trials: “...by the Nine, you’re friends with Reman Broder, from Skingrad, aren’t you?” Ruin: “Okay, we know what the books are, but we need more details. Can you translate the books in their entirety?” Boderi: “You both will know in about a week. “Can’t go faster, that is just my peak.“ Trials: “A week??” Boderi: “Hey now, it’s the best that, I can doooo!” “So now, get a move on, go and shoooo!” Trials: “...why are you singing??” Boderi: “It helps me get in the spaaaace “To translate Ogrish script, like an aaace!” Trials: “This song makes me feel like I’ve been concussed.”

With a week to kill and nothing better to do, I decided we could look into my other outstanding Vampire Case. According to my journal, Roland had mentioned that Seridur frequented the First Edition bookshop, so that seemed a likely place to go, and follow up on what became of him. Phintias was in when we arrived, so I chatted him up about the High Elf. Phintias: “Seridur? He comes in from time-to-time. Usually it’s when he’s out shopping. He always comes in with a large amount of travel food in his bag. That Seridur, he’s always like; ‘Yes, I have food in here. Which I eat. With my mouth. That totally doesn’t have fangs in it or anything.’ He’s such a kidder.” Trials: “...riiiiiiight. Uh, have you seen him lately?” Phintias: “Hmm... can’t sa--wait, yes, I think I’ve overhead him once mention Memorial Cave to another patron of mine.” Trials: “What and where is that?” Phintias: “It’s outside of the Imperial City. I heard it’s a place where many of the heroes from past wars are buried. “I just assumed Seridur had a relative that died and is buried there. Not many people go out of there anymore, as the route is dangerous. “I looked it up once in an old atlas I had in stock. Here, let me mark it on your map.” Trials: “Huh. Can’t imagine why he’d go there.” Ruin: “Perhaps he has a Vampire Social Club there?”

According to the map-marker Phintias provided for me, Memorial Cave was on the mainland side of Lake Rumare. So Ruin and I just had to find a bridge to cross back over, and then it was just a matter of following the shore until we found it. Ruin: “This cave smells of vampires. It could be very dangerous. How do you wish to proceed, my friend?” Without a word, I produced several familiar potion bottles. Ruin: It dawned on him, and he grit his teeth, his brow furrowed. “You’re... really going to do it again?” Trials: “It worked so well, last time.” Ruin: “It nearly killed you, last time.” Trials: “But it didn’t kill me. It only made me wish I were dead. And that’s something I can live with, if only because it means I will live.” Ruin: Groaned and shook his head. “Ugh, well I can see I can’t talk you out of this. Just... please, do not die, my friend. I would miss you terribly.”

I drunk three hits of Skooma once more. Don’t try this cool thing at home, kiddies! Again, I had to rely on Ruin to fill me in on what happened while I was flying high on that liquid Moon-Sugar. Trials: “aaaaaaAAAH!” I rushed through the cave, slaying vampires with mighty blows. Every swing of my sword felled another one, as the walls were painted red with the blood of the abominations. Trials: “With these MAGIC WORDS, the King of Rape added another: 'CHIM,' which is the secret syllable of ROYALTY! “Vivec HAD what he needed from the Daedroth and so married him that DAY. In the hour that Bal had his head, the King of Rape asked for PROOF of love!” Vampires: “What is she even screaming about!?” Ruin: “She... appears to be reciting one of the Thirty-Six Lessons of Vivec.” Trials: “ And DESERVED our praise you do, for we are one! Ere you ASCENDED and the Eight became Nine, you walked among us, great TALOS, not as god, but as man!” Ruin: “...okay now I’m completely lost, too.” Trials: “...and ATE his neck-veins while SCREAMING praise to Reman, a NAME that no one knew yet!” Vampires: “...is it too late to surrender?” Ruin: “It was too late the moment the Skooma touched her lips.” The Skooma wore off shortly there after. I woke with a positively pounding headache, and proceeded to puke this morning’s meat pie into the ankle-deep pool of vampire blood filling the room. Trials: I whimpered. “...why do I keep doing that??” Ruin: He snarled. “Yes, why?? I keep telling you that it’s a bad idea, and you keep not listening to me. Do you really not care how you frighten and upset me when you do such reckless things?” Trials: “...” I blinked, then furrowed my brow, frowning. “Gee, Ruin, I don’t know what to say. I... okay, if it upsets you that much, I’ll cut back on the Skooma. We’ll just try and find other ways to deal with vampires from here on out.” Ruin: He sighed, crossed his arms, nodding sagely. “I would appreciate that. I’d prefer our friendship to be a long one.” Trials: “For sure, Ruin. I’m sure nothing will happen to separate us.” We searched through the recently slain vampires, but we didn’t find Seridur among them. But there was a deeper section of cave we’d yet to explore.

And indeed, in that last stretch of cave, we found the vampire himself! Seridur: “Do you really think that I’m surprised to see you here? I let you find me... and by the way, you’re about a month late!” Trials: “Yeah, I got held up. I know I took my time; I wanted to be properly prepared to face a vampire.” Seridur: “Fool! You really think a mere mortal lizard can adequately prepare for me?” Ruin: “...there’s about a dozen dead vampires in the other cavern who would attest that, yes, she is prepared.” Seridur: “I...” He visibly paled. “Oh... so that’s what all that noise was about.” Trials: “Dude, you hired my specifically because you knew I had a reputation. What did you think was going to happen?” Seridur: “I... I knew hiring you was a mistake, but I had to keep up appearances! The damned ‘Order’ insisted we get you into the picture. I think after I’m done with you, Gilen and Grey-Throat will have to be dealt with.” Ruin: “He’s pretty confident for a dead man.” Seridur: He arched his brow at us. “You... two aren’t scared, are you?” Trials: “Oh, if I were sober I might be petrified, but I’m still a little buzzed on Skooma at the moment. Right now, you look like a big scrib-jelly sandwich in clown-shoes.” Ruin: “And I just watch her slay a dozen of your brethren, wielding a legendary vampire-slaying sword and flying high on drugs. I don’t think you alone will be any more difficult for us to deal with.” Seridur: “...oh. Shit.” [Light of Dawn liked that.]

Seridur pulled out a wicked-looking mace, but never got a chance to use it. As he was readying himself, I rushed in, and ran him through, slamming my sword through his gut before he even knew what hit him. Seridur gurgled and hissed, his fangs flashing in the dark, before he fell slump on my sword. Even as I made to kick him off of the blade, I could feel Light of Dawn strum intensely, vibrating in my hands so wildly I had to fight to keep a hold of it. The sword seemed to... to drink Seridur’s blood, and as it did, the gunk that Volmyr and his goons had smeared all over it started to burn away, and I could feel Light of Dawn’s power beginning to awaken. The sword’s glow shone more intensely, and I could make out the sun-decals stamped into the metal. LoD wasn’t quite ‘there’ yet, but I can feel that it had gotten one step closer to being the legendary Blade of Vampire’s Bane it once was.

With Seridur finally vanquished, there was nothing left to do here but to collect the loot. Among them, I found this parchment, labeled as “Reanimate, Part 1″. It appeared to be a spell, or part of one, at least. The spell was incomplete, and not particularly useful to me in this state, but I still collected it. I can stuff it in the Luggage for now, and maybe in time I’ll stumble on the other part or parts.

Now loaded down with treasure, Ruin and I hoofed it over toward Roland Jenseric’s cabin to give him the good news. I knocked on the door, and the man himself came out to greet us. Roland: "Where have you been?? It’s been a month! I’ve resorted to sucking condensation off of the rafters to quench my thirst!” Trials: “...there’s a literal farm directly across from the cabin. If you were thirsty I think you could have just eaten the watermelons.” Roland: “...okay, yes, but counter-argument; eww, watermelon.” Trials: “...” I groaned and rubbed my temple. “Anyway, we took care of Seridur.” Roland: “He’s dead? Thank goodness! I feared I’d never be able to leave here, or worse, that he would come for me!” Trials: “If you were afraid he’d come for you, why did you answer the door without hesitation?” Roland: “I figured, if you were Seridur, you wouldn’t have bothered with knocking, and would’ve just knocked the door down.” Trials: “Huh. Fair point. So, what’re you going to do, now?” Roland: “I’ve had a lot of time to think about that while stuck in here, talking to my socks to keep my mind occupied. The right-sock is convinced the Peryite Flu is a hoax the empire cooked up to seize more power.” Trials: “They’re a theocratic dictatorship! Why would they need to--wait. Why am I arguing with a sock?” Roland: “Anyway, the ironic thing is, I think the Order of the Virtuous Blood should continue its work.” Trials: “What ‘work’? You mean the ‘work’ of hiring me to do all of its work while Grey-Throat stuffs his face with sweetrolls?” Roland: “...yes. “Anyway, give me time to make arrangements, and meet me in Seridur’s basement. Also, I call dibs on Seridur’s flat.” Trials: “Wow. I’d say ‘the body’s not even cold, yet,’ but as a vampire, I’m pretty sure he was always room-temperature.”

#the elder scrolls #oblivion #modded #let's play #roleplay #ask blog