#minimum number of players ruins everything

[misskitka27]

looking up fun card/board games to play, finding them interesting…only to look at minimum number of players and lose interest bc who tf has 3+ friends…?

like it isn’t hard enough w 2 person games…

#one is the loneliest number #for GAMES #gonna have to stick to clock solitare and Lego ig #solitare #Lego #games #card games #board games #minimum number of players ruins everything #friends as if

[dreamermonica]

you belong with me !

when someone else approaches their partner, how do they react?

—includes itoshi rin, michael kaiser, itoshi sae

—gender of reader isn't specificied, fluff, established relationships, angy bllk boys, mentions of creeps, unwanted contact and such. first post in this blog, hope everything goes well!

all hell goes loose when RIN catches sight of another person gripping your wrist—especially when you look utterly terrified and confused. they dare to touch someone that is leagues above their own, someone that's already taken by one of the most well-known soccer players in the world, and do it without the bare minimum of consideration for your own feelings? in that very moment, he only sees red.

quickly apprehending the cause of your discomfort by ripping the person's hand off of your arm and retracting you to his chest with a small oomf from you—a harsh glare burns onto the person's face. you could probably see the intensity of his stare just by looking at the person's horrified reaction.

“who are you to touch them like that?” his airy voice brings comfort to the erratic beating of your heart, your tense form slowly melting in his hold.

right now, he doesn't care that he's attracting unnecessary attention. the crowd that's slowly forming around the commotion he'd caused is the least of his problems right now. sure, it'll probably ruin the stealth of your date but he needs to see this insignificant pest to drown in shame until he's satisfied.

“rin—it's fine. this type of stuff is normal, let's just go, hm?” you probably sensed that he was ready to take it a step too far, and when he kills down the glare on his expression to look at you properly with his usual indifferent eyes, you heave out a sigh of relief.

tugging on his coat, you smile at him nervously. “c'mon now! let's resume our date before anyone recognizes you!”

contrary to the usual soft and compliant rin you're used to, he does not budge an inch. seemingly glued to the floor after your words. “what did you say?”

“...huh?”

“before what you just said right now. you mean this type of interaction is normal?”

with how intense his stare burns into yours, you grow sheepish each passing second—hand reluctantly raising to rub the back of your neck in confusion and slight bewilderment.

wait, he didn't know that until now? how are you going to word this properly without sounding sensitive? “well—uh, you see...you're like, crazy popular, and everyone knows i'm dating you, so of course i'd also grow popular too, and then you know you also have some of these crazy fans that hate me and—” you cut yourself off when you feel a familiar air of anger rise once more.

your lover does not reply, and only carefully brings out his phone to dial what you recognize as his manager's phone number—and very, very scary words coming out from his lips while shifting his stare back at the person who's now groveling at his feet.

his little conversation about hiring bodyguards and telling the media they're doomed for affecting your safety does not faze you one single bit. there's only one thought inside your pretty little mind as you stare at the dark expression of itoshi rin.

oh lord. what have you done?

if there's anything KAISER hated more than anything, it would be when someone touches something, or in this case, someone who solely belongs to him. a emperor usually has his own certain treasures, and they're kept away from the hands and eyes of commoners and peasants for a reason. should one give into their selfish desires and attempt to take away his treasures—an inevitable treason is in line.

“what the hell is this? some irrelevant bumpkin treading where he doesn't belong?” with how loud and condescending the blonde sounds, you're certain that he's doing it so that it garners the entire room's attention.

a celebration party is held to commemorate bastard münchen's latest victory—hence the crowd full of friends and families of the football team's members alike are gathered, along with expensive investors and celebrities wanting to meet the famous aces of the country. funny acts committed in parties like these are not common, yet not all that uncommon either.

but it's mostly happens for the nobodies. who would even consider getting too friendly with the infamous partner of michael kaiser—who's offhandedly the embodiment of bastard in bastard münchen?

at the end of the day, it seems there's someone with more-balls-than-brains here in front of him. it's interesting, in a way. kaiser thinks as grins as the man's face contorts into a way that feeds his own sadism. the day was starting to get boring until this little failure came to ruin his—

a gentle squeeze on his hand halts his violent thoughts.

he cranes his neck to look at you with an eyebrow raised, your [e/c] hues glinting in a way that's telling him to stop whatever he's going to do before it goes too far.

contemplating options as the football ace glances back at the man drowning in shame amidst the sea of judgemental looks thrown his way, he heaves a deep sigh. one of defeat rather than disappointment. he's already well-aware of your forgiving nature.

“okay. i'll cut it out. but in one condition,” he looks back at you, squeezing your hand back as a smirk creeps on his face. “we ditch the party.”

“wha—? but isn't this whole event your idea in the first place?” you come nothing short of confused, hand still in his.

“meh, who cares.” he retorts boredly, snapping his fingers to call on forth the body guards hired for the party, before gesturing towards the man—kicking him out for the good and betterment of guests. “it was getting boring anyway. 'only hosted this event just so i could see you all dressed up.”

dressed up for his victory, he chooses not to add to spare your blushing face. that final goal he scored would've made his fans froth at the mouth if they were up close. he briefly wonders if you had reacted the same. er—most likely not, but a man can dream.

“you're so infuriating, you know that?” you comment without any malice, a small smile spreading on your lips when kaiser starts tugging you away from the room filled with expensive champagnes and rich ambassadors. almost feels like a daydream to run away like this, hand in each other while noa's scoldings fall on deaf ears.

a light laugh escapes his lips, “but you still love me anyway.”

he sends a playful wink your way right after, and you might just faint—knees weakened and all.

SAE seems indifferent at first, blankly staring at the person attempting to woo you. is it of disbelief? disgust, even? whatever it was, he just kept staring while the person uttered the most horrendous pick up lines your poor ears have ever heard. you were too preoccupied in tuning out the person's musings to even notice sae moving towards you.

it sure is a pain to have an attractive s/o. the famous football player just went to the bathroom and he comes back to see another man kissing up to you like some dog whimpering for scraps of food. in this case, the scraps of food the dog was getting desperate for was your number. a shitshow, he thinks.

“sorry, but i'm actually waiting for someone.” you finally managed to formulate a sentence without the man cutting it off once again with his terrible lines. you forgo the urge to compare him to an npc designed to rizz up a rock. it was genuinely that bad. bad enough that the rock would probably grow legs just to get away from him.

“you've said that what, three times now? where's that person yer' talkin' about, huh?” the man leans closer while rubbing the insides of his ear, causing you to cautiously take a step back. god, a bath could really help this man, and he's right—where is your boyfriend? “just lemme hit now, you won't regret it one bit—”

a sturdy hand places itself onto the creepy man's shoulder, roughly, and i mean, roughly turning the man around to face a maddened pair of emerald hues. right before you and the man stands an enraged itoshi sae—one of the most well-known aces of the entire country. from the way the man stays paralyzed in his place, it's not hard to deduce that he probably recognizes the living and breathing legend right in front of him.

“out of my sight, unless you want things to get dirty.” the soccer genius is known to be level-headed and rational even in dire situations when it comes to within and outward of the field, so who exactly are you staring at right now?

the redhead coldly dismisses the man with a chilling glare, before approaching you with hands now stuffed in pockets, eyebrows raised as if to question your dumbfounded look. “let's get going. the grime is starting to rub off on me.”

ah, that's right.

you let him grab your wrist to drag you away, his demeanour doing a complete 180 as he asks about what kind of food you'd want to eat today, naming your favourite restaurants one by one whilst he tugs you around, ignoring the double takes of passerbys making sure they didn't just see sae itoshi in the flesh.

the man you're staring at right now...is your lover

the very same man who shut down the touchy feely dude earlier, not to mention him completely dismissing the entire situation as to not ruin your mood, the one who has all your favourite restaurants memorized, the very same guy who invited you out today because he simply wanted to see you and enjoy the day with you, the boy who chose you out of millions, and millions of admirers—

you're simply looking at your boyfriend, itoshi sae. not the genius revered by multiple nations, but simply a man who loves you just as much as you do to him.

a smile spreads on your face as you finally keep up with his pace, now beside him instead of being dragged around like a lost puppy. “hmm, why don't you choose? i'm feeling like trying some new today.”

“okay. we're going spicy then.”

(ik bastard means like sword or smth for germans ok kaiser being THE bastard just sounded right for me)

edit; okay just found out bastard actually means bastard, it makes more sense now

ALSO YES I HC SAE LIKES SPICY FOOD

#blue lock x reader #rin itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x reader #michael kaiser x reader #rin x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi rin x reader #kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi sae x y/n #har❗ #har❗fiction

[jcmarchi]

Balatro Review - A Winning Hand - Game Informer

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/balatro-review-a-winning-hand-game-informer/

Balatro Review - A Winning Hand - Game Informer

I’m not a poker player. I’ve never learned the game, and my limited knowledge of it largely stems from pop culture osmosis, such as James Bond films and referential quips from X-Men’s Gambit. I couldn’t tell you what makes a royal flush, but I know it’s good to have it. Despite its premise and appearance, Balatro technically isn’t poker. It is, however, the first title to make me understand and enjoy the core premise of the card game. It also happens to be one of the most engrossing games of the year. 

Calling Balatro a poker game would be disingenuous. You don’t even play against other opponents. It’s actually a poker-inspired roguelike deckbuilder. Over a series of rounds, you’re tasked with playing the best hand possible to score a minimum number of chips to advance to the next round. You begin with a standard 52-card deck and only draw four hands (with limited discards) to fulfill this score criteria. The most prominent poker element is learning how to assemble various types of hands, such as a Flush, Straight, or Full House. Thankfully, a helpful glossary illustrating what each type of hand looks like and their score values is just a button click away. This simple and accessible reference has allowed me to memorize poker hands for the first time, expediting my enjoyment of Balatro.

[embedded content]

Three Blinds (basically rounds) make up an Ante, and you win a game by completing eight Antes. Lose a round, and you start from the first Ante. Balatro would be enjoyable if it simply consisted of this straightforward premise, but the magic comes in how it incorporates the roguelike genre’s satisfying power climb. You earn cash based on your performance each round, which in turn is used to purchase a variety of cards from booster packs with wacky abilities to augment your deck. Equipping up to five Joker cards, of which over 100 types exist, bestows passive effects or trigger abilities. Some add score multipliers for playing certain suits or bonus chips for not playing a face card. One of my favorites is a glitched Joker that multiplies my score by a random amount, adding a fun roulette element. Jokers dramatically alter the game in a plethora of neat ways, but it doesn’t stop there. 

Using consumables, such as Tarot, Planet, and Spectral cards, raise the score value of certain hand types, add more special effects to cards, and more. Other examples include transforming cards into gold or steel variants that reward chips or cash the longer they stay in your hand. Glass cards have a chance to shatter permanently when played but boast a score multiplier. I love weighing the benefits and downsides of every ability and how they enhance or change my existing lineup. I’m constantly evolving my strategy, even when I settle into a winning formula. Balatro never overwhelms players with too many options at once, and your strength grows at a steady pace. I also appreciate how these mechanics add whimsy and absurdity to a card game I usually associate with blank staring and financial ruin. 

The result is a wildly fun roguelike that’s hard to put down. With so many combinations of loadouts, discovering new Jokers and other cards leads to thrilling experimentation. Many effects complement each other, sometimes in unexpected ways, allowing for a variety of strategies I’m still uncovering. Balatro’s flexibility lets players try many different deckbuilding styles, whether you build a deck consisting of one or two suits or one that emphasizes face cards. I once made a deck that facilitated creating high-scoring straight flushes as often as possible. Everything feels viable with the right skill and luck. 

Balatro is almost Vampire Survivors-esque in its satisfying escalation from playing small hands for decent points to setting off several card effects in succession as multipliers rise to the hundreds, causing your score meter to catch fire NBA Jam-style. I love that building a good deck/loadout can earn me thousands of points for playing a simple Pair. Everything works together to provide constant dopamine hits. Plus, playing well and trying new cards unlocks additional decks (each with unique, beneficial traits) along with new Jokers, booster packs, and more. This mechanic incentivizes me to try out cards I was initially skeptical about, and I discover new favorites while filling an in-game database of every available card in the game. 

Completing Antes becomes progressively more challenging, especially since every third round presents a Boss Blind that saddles you with a single, debilitating effect. Perhaps diamond cards are useless, or you can only play one type of hand. More devilish boss blinds require you to win with a single hand or nullify the value/effects of every card you’ve used during the round. As tough as they can be, I enjoyed how these bouts made Balatro feel even more puzzle-like and forced me to find new solutions instead of banking on reliable tactics. Boss Blinds are randomized, limiting how much you can plan ahead, sometimes leading to devastating defeats when a boss’ stipulation perfectly counters your strategies. Losses mean starting from scratch, and as much as that often stings, I usually restart a new run immediately. Balatro’s “one more run” hook is powerful, and I’m still surprised how much time melts away while playing. 

Balatro’s other cool feature allows you to save runs, called seeds, that can be replayed or shared with others. Playing another player’s seed tailors your run to match theirs, meaning you’ll encounter whatever shop and item combinations they discovered at the expense of disabling new unlocks/discoveries. In addition to shaking things up, seeds add an enjoyable social element to the game, as players can share seeds to help others beat the game and uncover rarer cards. Tack on various challenges, and Balatro dangles plenty of carrots to keep players engaged in the long run. 

Balatro is an ingenious and entertaining roguelike and one of my favorite games of the year. Playing it has become a near-obsession; everything feels perfectly designed to encourage you to keep trying because that next run could be the run of your life. Even after hours of play, I still can’t overcome Balatro’s biggest challenge: putting it down.

#2024 #After Hours #banking #Building #challenge #change #chips #Database #Developer #Discoveries #effects #financial #Full #game #games #glossary #gold #hand #how #how to #it #learning #life #limiting #mechanics #One #Osmosis #Other #PC #performance

[smokeybrandreviews]

NBA Rant: Ash Ketchum

LeBron became the All-Time Leading Scorer in the NBA a few weeks ago and cats are claiming that makes him the greatest to ever play. I disagree. Strongly. The greatest to ever do it is Michael Jordan. Cats tend to lean into Bron's statistical dominance to prove their point and I guess they have a valid position. The NBA is heavy into Analytics nowadays, Moneyball ruined sports, so by those very crunchable numbers, Bron is the dude. But I don't distill a person's worth down to an over/under average. I can't. Stuff like that might help in terms of constructing a coaching scheme or identifying places one can improve their game, but to claim that sh*t is what makes you the greatest to ever play, seems dumb to me. Not only does it disregard actually winning, but it puts cats like Westbrick or Harden over the likes of Oscar Robertson and Isiah Thomas. Based on stats, the latter two individual are worse players than the former and that's just stupid to say. But we give LeBron the title because of those individual numbers? Cats make that case like it's not built on a foundation of sand.

Look, for me, Jordan is the GOAT. He will be until I die. Mans dominated the league. Hall of Famers feared him. The statistical advantage Bron uses to claim he's the best is mute because Jordan didn't chase stats like he does. Jordan chased rings. He chased winning. You're ridiculous if you think Jordan wouldn't have been the All-Time Leading Scorer if he actually wanted to be. Dude averaged 30.1 points over fifteen NBA seasons, two of which were missed during his prime years and two of which were after he turned thirty-eight. Jordan wanted titles, not accolades. He didn't care about the stats because that sh*t doesn't matter in the face of hanging a banner. More to the point, Bron has played five more years than MJ and started earlier. Jordan went to College for three years while Bron went straight to the NBA after high school. More than that, the vast majority of Jordan's individual accolades can stand right up there with Bron's accomplishments. So, if those are equal, at least comparable, then all you have left is titles. And Jordan got that over the pretender King, all day.

Jordan has never lost a Championship he has played in. Never. From College to his retirement, including Olympics and FIBA, any time Jordan stepped foot in a Final, he came out the winner. There is nothing but gold in that man's trophy case. LeBron cannot say the same. He's also had WAY more help to get those NBA titles. Every ring James has one, with the exception of the Bubble title which, in its own way, was a gimme, dude has at minimum, two All-Star caliber players. Usually one Superstar and one All-Star. Jordan had Pippen. That's it. That was the help. Scottie f*cking Pippen. Jordan rattled off that first Three-peat with just Pippin. The second, they added Rodman and, l of a sudden, they put up the second most wins in NBA history. Bron couldn't even crack seventy wins with Bosh and Wade on his team, let alone Three-peat twice. How can a guy with all that help, all those stats, have a Finals record of four wins in ten tries? How can you say he's better than the guy who went six times and won six times, just because longevity gave the kid more time to pad those stats? Nah, Bron isn't the GOAT. Hell, he might not even be number two because there's a mamba who has a STRONG case for that spot. Everything I just said about Jordan, can be said about Kobe Bryant. That man was a straight up killer. Seriously, the Tories people tell about the Mamba are insane

Hell, the stories LeBron tells about the Mamba, are insane. The more I look back at this man's career, the more I actually reflect on his work ethic and how he sees the game, the harder it is for me not to put him in my two spot. Obviously, he lacks the stats of both Jordan and Bron but what he does have is pure brilliance. Bryant's sheer tenacity and commitment to the game really left impression the entire culture of hoop. Kobe means more to basketball than Michael Jordan ever will and that's not an exaggeration. Bron got Kobe be on stats, sure, but not in legacy. Not in meaning. Kobe Bryant is Jordan for an entire generation of brilliant players in the league right now. He taught LeBron how to win during those USA Basketball days. Dwayne Wade knew, as good as he was, he was always going to be the second best Shooting Guard in the league during his playing days because he played at the same time as Kobe. Mans garnered that much respect, that much fear. You ever hear Iman Shumpert talk about that game his rookie season in the Garden? That's Mamba Mentality at it's purest and there are SO many stories like that around the league about Kobe. You don't hear those about Bron too often. Also, Kobe went to the Finals seven times and brought home the Chip to LA five of those attempts. Mans was a straight up monster in every way Bron is not and you can't dismiss that just because King James played in ten NBA Finals and scored a ton of f*cking points over twenty goddamn years.

#NBA Rant

[smokeybrand]

NBA Rant: Ash Ketchum

LeBron became the All-Time Leading Scorer in the NBA a few weeks ago and cats are claiming that makes him the greatest to ever play. I disagree. Strongly. The greatest to ever do it is Michael Jordan. Cats tend to lean into Bron's statistical dominance to prove their point and I guess they have a valid position. The NBA is heavy into Analytics nowadays, Moneyball ruined sports, so by those very crunchable numbers, Bron is the dude. But I don't distill a person's worth down to an over/under average. I can't. Stuff like that might help in terms of constructing a coaching scheme or identifying places one can improve their game, but to claim that sh*t is what makes you the greatest to ever play, seems dumb to me. Not only does it disregard actually winning, but it puts cats like Westbrick or Harden over the likes of Oscar Robertson and Isiah Thomas. Based on stats, the latter two individual are worse players than the former and that's just stupid to say. But we give LeBron the title because of those individual numbers? Cats make that case like it's not built on a foundation of sand.

Look, for me, Jordan is the GOAT. He will be until I die. Mans dominated the league. Hall of Famers feared him. The statistical advantage Bron uses to claim he's the best is mute because Jordan didn't chase stats like he does. Jordan chased rings. He chased winning. You're ridiculous if you think Jordan wouldn't have been the All-Time Leading Scorer if he actually wanted to be. Dude averaged 30.1 points over fifteen NBA seasons, two of which were missed during his prime years and two of which were after he turned thirty-eight. Jordan wanted titles, not accolades. He didn't care about the stats because that sh*t doesn't matter in the face of hanging a banner. More to the point, Bron has played five more years than MJ and started earlier. Jordan went to College for three years while Bron went straight to the NBA after high school. More than that, the vast majority of Jordan's individual accolades can stand right up there with Bron's accomplishments. So, if those are equal, at least comparable, then all you have left is titles. And Jordan got that over the pretender King, all day.

Jordan has never lost a Championship he has played in. Never. From College to his retirement, including Olympics and FIBA, any time Jordan stepped foot in a Final, he came out the winner. There is nothing but gold in that man's trophy case. LeBron cannot say the same. He's also had WAY more help to get those NBA titles. Every ring James has one, with the exception of the Bubble title which, in its own way, was a gimme, dude has at minimum, two All-Star caliber players. Usually one Superstar and one All-Star. Jordan had Pippen. That's it. That was the help. Scottie f*cking Pippen. Jordan rattled off that first Three-peat with just Pippin. The second, they added Rodman and, l of a sudden, they put up the second most wins in NBA history. Bron couldn't even crack seventy wins with Bosh and Wade on his team, let alone Three-peat twice. How can a guy with all that help, all those stats, have a Finals record of four wins in ten tries? How can you say he's better than the guy who went six times and won six times, just because longevity gave the kid more time to pad those stats? Nah, Bron isn't the GOAT. Hell, he might not even be number two because there's a mamba who has a STRONG case for that spot. Everything I just said about Jordan, can be said about Kobe Bryant. That man was a straight up killer. Seriously, the Tories people tell about the Mamba are insane

Hell, the stories LeBron tells about the Mamba, are insane. The more I look back at this man's career, the more I actually reflect on his work ethic and how he sees the game, the harder it is for me not to put him in my two spot. Obviously, he lacks the stats of both Jordan and Bron but what he does have is pure brilliance. Bryant's sheer tenacity and commitment to the game really left impression the entire culture of hoop. Kobe means more to basketball than Michael Jordan ever will and that's not an exaggeration. Bron got Kobe be on stats, sure, but not in legacy. Not in meaning. Kobe Bryant is Jordan for an entire generation of brilliant players in the league right now. He taught LeBron how to win during those USA Basketball days. Dwayne Wade knew, as good as he was, he was always going to be the second best Shooting Guard in the league during his playing days because he played at the same time as Kobe. Mans garnered that much respect, that much fear. You ever hear Iman Shumpert talk about that game his rookie season in the Garden? That's Mamba Mentality at it's purest and there are SO many stories like that around the league about Kobe. You don't hear those about Bron too often. Also, Kobe went to the Finals seven times and brought home the Chip to LA five of those attempts. Mans was a straight up monster in every way Bron is not and you can't dismiss that just because King James played in ten NBA Finals and scored a ton of f*cking points over twenty goddamn years.

[rocorambles]

It's Always Been You

Pairing: Semi x Reader

Genre: SFW, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff (I swear it’s more fluff than hurt/comfort), Getting together

Summary: You’ve always known Semi was your first choice. Now you just need to convince HIM that it’s true. Easier said than done.

Prompt: “When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when?”

A/N: This is my contribution for the HQHQ SFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Also this is an AU where the boy’s and girl’s volleyball teams practice in the same gym. Just go with it. LOL Please and thank you.) Thank you for beta-ing @sawamooora~

There’s a certain sense of pride and anxiety that comes from being accepted to Shiratorizawa as a student athlete. Pride from knowing your athletic prowess has been recognized as being at least notable. Anxiety from not knowing if that’s all it’ll amount to, talent that’s forced to remain seated on a bench as other, even more capable athletes surpass and outrank you. But as wide-eyed first years, Semi and you don’t feel that full weight yet, not as you watch and learn from your senpais in awe, and it’s that curiosity, that love for the sport that brings you two together.

Semi’s always been on the quieter side, but when he sees you in the corner of the girl’s side of the gym all by yourself, practicing setting a volleyball against the wall, recognizing you as a fellow newbie from his class, he takes his chance. It’s an easy friendship, one that easily crosses from the court, to the classroom, to after school study sessions and hangouts. And even though it sucks to still be set aside on the bench, left to cheer on your upperclassmen while the both of you hone your skills, it brings both of you comfort that you’re not alone, that you have someone else cheering you on, growing and improving right alongside you.

It’s hard work trying to stand out among all the hopeful first years at Shiratorizawa, but the endless hours of hard work and encouragement you give each other, the shouts to keep on going, the careful bandaging of each other’s fingers before and after grueling practices, it all pays off. The two of you proudly stand side by side in your second year as your parents snap a photo of both of you donning your brand new team uniforms, marking you as starting players.

The adrenaline of the cheering audience, the exhilaration of being in a real game, it’s everything both of you have wished for and more. But through the excitement, a nagging worry tugs at Semi as he watches the new rookie setter, Shirabu Kenjirou, from afar.

There’s nothing wrong with Shirabu. He’s a smart kid, albeit a little short tempered and rude at times, but aren’t they all in high school? But it’s not his attitude, not even his shitty haircut that bothers Semi. It’s the ease with which he connects with the rest of the team, the natural skill and talent he possesses, the way Coach Washijou stares at the younger male with interest, that has Semi striving harder, his desire to stand out and prove himself only hindering him and the team more.

And reality comes crashing down around him one day as a shrill whistle jars him from his razor sharp focus, the paddle with his number being held up by Shirabu making his heart drop to his stomach as he’s subbed out, face heating with humiliation and embarrassment as his teammates eagerly high five and clap the younger setter on the court, welcoming him into the game.

Just like that, he’s been replaced.

It hurts, but he knows it’s to be expected. He had seen it coming, and acknowledges that it’s the better decision for the team. But that doesn’t make it sting any less. And he watches with steely eyes at how effortlessly Shirabu melds in with the team, the ball easily and smoothly connecting.

He thinks this is the worst of the heartache, vowing that he’ll just work harder, at least be a useful pinch server. He’ll be the best setter he can when he’s needed. But what he isn’t expecting is the lancing stab to his heart when he sees you rush over to Shirabu after the match is over, the way you’re practically bouncing on the soles of your feet as you fawn over the younger setter, congratulating him on his first game, complimenting him on a job well done, not even sparing a glance in his direction. In your defense, you do make your way towards him eventually, but he can feel the pity in your eyes, the way you approach him as if he’s a wounded animal, and he slaps your hand away before it can come in contact with his arms, storming off, leaving you gaping in his wake.

The situation was poorly handled and he knows he owes an apology at minimum, but those words get stuck in his throat when he spies you chatting one-on-one with Shirabu at practice the next day while the boy’s and girl’s teams share the same gym. It’s vaguely reminiscent of watching a horror film and despite the way he freezes, heart clenching, Semi can’t tear his eyes away as you demonstrate some setting techniques and drills to Shirabu. And when your bandaged fingers carefully wrap around the younger male’s forearms to adjust his posture, Semi rushes off, unable to bear watching how once again, he’s become irrelevant.

He wonders— hopes that it’s just a one off thing, that things will return to how they once were. But they don’t, and he watches as Shirabu and you laugh and joke, high fiving and cheering each other on as you help one another practice, time and time again. He tries his best to ignore it, gritting his teeth and using more strength than necessary in his practice serves, brushing off the concerned questions from even usually stoic Ushijima. But it all comes to a head when Shirabu is absent from practice one day and you cheerfully walk up to him like no time has passed, like you hadn’t turned around and instantly betrayed him for a better version of himself, grinning as you ask him to practice with you.

There’s a sick satisfaction in how quickly your smile disappears, the flash of hurt in your eyes when he sneers at you, thanking you for “gracing him with your presence”.

“Glad you could find it in yourself to make some time for me. Thought you’d skip out on practice to take care of your little boyfriend.”

“What-”

The whole gym stares at both of you as his harsh voice echoes throughout the area.

“When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when?!”

Semi and you don’t talk to each other for the rest of that year, although not for quite the same reasons.

For Semi, it’s a completely burned bridge and, as good as seeing you feel some of the same pain he feels is, there’s an emptiness inside of him as he goes home that night. The belief that he’s ruined everything between the two of you heavily weighs inside of him.

For you, it’s a medley of hurt, shock, and confusion. You give Semi the time he needs to cool off, give yourself the time and space to ponder and think into the late and early hours of each night, wondering where everything went wrong.

Shirabu? Boyfriend? How could Semi possibly even believe that?

Being an upperclassman means mentorship and guidance. So when Shirabu had come up to you one day after he became the boy’s team’s starting setter, you had graciously offered up some tips, let him know that you’d practice with him if you were free, encouraged him. You had missed your easy banters with Semi, missed how in sync and in tune with each other you were. But how could you turn away an underclassman in need?

Yet, the more you think about it, the more you really try and understand Semi’s perspective, guilt gnaws at you, clawing at your heart.

Had you meant to neglect your closest friend? An emphatic no.

Could you see why he had felt abandoned? ...A begrudging maybe laced with remorse.

Do you want him back in your life? A resounding yes.

You know it’ll be hard work to regain Semi’s trust, know he has a stubbornness that’s hard to crack — especially when it’s been hot glued together by seeming betrayal. But you’re just as determined, just as headstrong, and to both the dismay and amusement of both your teams and classmates, you twirl together in a chaotic dance.

To say he’s caught off guard when you knock on his door one morning to walk with him to school is an understatement, but when realization comes crashing down on him, he scowls, and his parents watch while shaking their heads and hiding a laugh as you scramble to keep up with him while he pointedly ignores you and speed walks a few steps ahead of you.

His mom points out to his father the way their son slows down just the tiniest bit when you stumble in your haste to catch up.

Ushijima watches in uncomfortable confusion as you sit with them at lunch, plopping down in the empty seat beside Semi, chatting away at your old friend despite the way Semi resolutely stays silent, not even sparing you a glance.

But if the ace notices the way Semi doesn’t snap at you or pull his bento box from you as you grab a piece of fish Semi’s mom had cooked, he doesn’t say anything.

Shirabu pouts when you completely bypass him, fondly ruffling his hair as you stride towards Semi, volleyball in hand at practice. And both your teams watch in exasperation and fascination at the unintentional comedy show the two of you provide as you waddle after Semi like a baby duck following its mother, quacking your head off and never giving up even though Semi pretends he doesn’t see you in the corner of his eyes, mimicking every drill he does.

Coach Washijo and your coach wonder if they should slap both of you on the heads for this madness, but when they observe the way Semi painstakingly slows down and exaggerates his form when you struggle with an exercise, they roll their eyes, turning their attention to the other players lounging around.

Yet as amusing as it is, all shows must come to an end and your grand finale arrives with the devastating loss against Karasuno, the chances of going to Nationals again ruined just like that for the third-years.

Even for you, a bystander in the audience, just another spectator in the crowd, it’s a hard pill to swallow. Unshed tears glisten in your eyes when you see the years of hard work they’ve all put into the sport go down the drain, the slump of Semi’s shoulders as they walk off the court. You can’t even begin to imagine how the players themselves are feeling, don’t know a single word you could say to make this alright. Yet your legs are sprinting, wobbling and shaking in their frantic need to comfort your long-time friend, to try and soothe him, to tell him how proud you are of him, how this doesn’t change how you think and feel about him.

It’s more than a little awkward, panting to catch your breath as the entire dejected team stares at your sudden appearance in confusion. But Tendou’s always been a little quicker, a little sharper than the rest, and he grins, practically shoving Semi in your direction, playfully waving farewell at both of you before slamming the locker room doors shut before Semi can process what’s happened.

There’s a tense silence as you try and wrap your suddenly dry mouth around words.

“I’m sorry for your loss-”

You jolt at the cold scoff, the way Semi quickly spins on his heel, set on re-entering the locker rooms, turning his back on you.

“I don’t want to hear that from you. Go comfort your little boyfriend. I’m sure our star setter would eat those sweet words right up-”

“SHUT UP!”

This time it’s Semi’s turn to clamp his mouth shut in shock, hesitantly turning around, eyes wide as you storm towards him, jabbing your index finger into his chest.

“I swear to God, if you mention Shirabu’s name one more time while I’m talking to you, I’m going to muzzle you until you can’t say ANYTHING.”

(If either of you hear Tendou’s giggle from behind the closed doors, neither of you mention it.)

“I came to talk to YOU because I miss YOU. I like YOU. And if you could take just a minute to get your head out of your ass, you’d know that you’ve always been and always will be my first choice.”

Your chest is heaving, blood rushing in your ears from the exertion of your passion. But the reality of your accidental confession comes crashing down around you and your face heats in embarrassment, heart plummeting at the way Semi just gapes at you, speechless. You turn to rush away, mortification triggering your flight response. But a gentle, but firm tug on the hem of your shirt keeps you still.

You brace yourself for the rejection you know is coming, nervously turning around, slowly lifting your head to meet Semi’s gaze. But your heart flutters at the hope and disbelief in his eyes.

“But I thought...You and Shirabu- OW!”

You roll your eyes, a satisfied smirk on your face at the way he gingerly rubs his head, shooting you an accusing look.

“I did warn you about mentioning him, didn’t I?”

But before he can open his mouth to retort, you gently peck him on the cheek, giggling at the flabbergasted and stunned expression on his face, cooing at the faint blush that radiates across his skin.

“Hurry up and get your things. You owe me a popsicle for being such an ass this past year.”

There’s a lot more cheering and celebration in the locker room than there should be for a team that’s just lost their shot at Nationals as Semi re-enters the space, his already packed bag (courtesy of Ushijima) shoved into his arms by a gleeful red-head.

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #semi x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader

[bunnysuit-femboy]

The Worst Wingman - Tiger’s Eye and Gold

(Chapter 2 / 3)

Jean x Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Previous Chapter

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting, Implied sex

Summary: Jean sucks at picking blind dates for you, but at least he’s trying. After one final attempt at finding love at the hands of Jean, he goes on a double date with you and the newest boy he’s thrown onto you. The boy is everything you never knew you needed, and Jean has to push down his growing feelings at the idea of you being happy without him.

Notes: I am not shitting on polpette di cavallo or the consumption of horse meat in general, I understand that it is a popular Italian dish and I was only mocking my ignorance towards the subject! (Plus, I thought it’d be funny to make a horse joke in a Jean x Reader)

Second Saturday

The night air wasn’t chilly, but you stayed by Jean’s side nonetheless. You pressed against his arm, using his body heat to keep yourself warm. And, Jean didn’t mind the close company - he actually liked it when you got close to him, it was the same reason he cuddled with you so often.

You and Jean stood outside of an unfamiliar restaurant, waiting for the last two people of the party to show up and to inform the hostess of their reservation. You normally hated double dates because the other couple always seemed to have more fun than you. But, you felt safe by Jean’s side, you knew he’d go as far as blatantly ignoring his date if it meant he got to have one conversation with you. Maybe that was selfish to think, but you didn’t mind, you’d probably never use him anyways - only keeping him as plan B in a worst case scenario.

But, you surprisingly had faith. Maybe - just maybe - this date will be your last one in a very long time. Maybe you would fall in love with this football player. Maybe you’d marry him and eventually start a family. Maybe you’d make sure to visit this same restaurant every anniversary - a physical monument of where your love had sprouted.

And then, as the years ticked by in your relationship, maybe you’d find yourselves growing sick of each other. Maybe you’d come home early from work and find him fucking his secretary over his desk in his home office. Maybe you’d stay with him, but only for the kids. Maybe - just maybe - you’d be able to ignore the whole affair just to pretend you love him for a few more years until your eventual death.

Oh God, love was exhausting - even to think about. And, it always seemed to end in pain, no matter how in love the couple seemed to be once upon a time.

It was hard to ignore the facts, and the inevitable ending to all things good. It was hard to ignore the over 50% of people who got divorced each year. And, it was hard to pretend you were more deserving of a lifelong fantastic marriage full of love and laughter just because-

“What are you thinking about?” Jean asked with a giggle.

You looked up at the boy, your eyebrows furrowed, “Huh?”

Jean smiled wide, “You look like you’re going to be sick.” He looked around quickly, taking in the sight of the other couples also waiting for a table inside. “Do you want to leave? We can go back to mine and forget this entire night was supposed to happen.”

“No,” You said quickly, “I want to meet him. You went through so much work to convince him to go on this date, why would I throw that away so easily?”

“Not really.” Jean frowned lightly as he looked past you, clearly reliving memories in his head, “I didn’t really do anything, actually.”

It was true, all Jean had to do was show the football player a picture of you and he was in. Jean had started the conversation by asking the football player’s schedule for the next weekend and if he was free for a date that Saturday. At first, the boy continuously refused any date, saying he needed the day to practice before the next game, but Jean showed the boy a picture instead of arguing with his words.

The football player fell completely silent, staring at Jean’s phone with widened eyes. It was hard to say no to a date with you - to put it simply, you were a goddess. The football player continued to stare at the picture of you, taken last Halloween when you and Jean had dressed as a witch and her black cat familiar; you being the witch and Jean being your cat. It was Jean’s favorite picture of you because you showed your candid smile as you laughed at one of Jean’s jokes, instead of your fake smile you saved for pictures.

The football player quickly agreed to the date after seeing the picture. He gave Jean his number, urging Jean to text him the time and place. He’d be there, the football player promised, he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“Sure,” You said sarcastically, “I’m sure you had to promise him a month’s supply of-” You took a moment to remember what football players liked other than football- “Steroids.”

“Seriously?” Jean asked with a laugh, “Keep the steroids jokes to a minimum when he shows up, okay?” Jean furrowed his eyebrows. “Actually, don’t mention steroids at all when he gets here.”

You sighed, “If it’s any consolation, I was going to say protein powder.” You turned to Jean, slightly tilting your head. “Can I make protein powder jokes when he’s here?”

Jean frowned at you, “I guess-”

“And,” You added with a grin, “Can I make shoulder pad jokes?”

“I suppose-”

“And, can I make football field jokes? Or, is that too much as well?”

“Okay,” Jean said as he threw an arm around your shoulders, “I see what you’re doing.” Jean shoved your face into his chest which had always been his favorite way to shut you up. You inhaled the familiar scent of his clothes, and the unfamiliar scent of a new cologne he wore specifically for this date. “You’re such a smart ass.”

You pushed your head out from between his chest and arm, “You’re ruining my hair, you bastard!”

Jean laughed as he pulled you closer to him, “It still looks great, don’t worry about it.”

“Hey, Jean,” A new voice said from only a few feet away, “And-”

Jean pushed you from his body, allowing you to extend a single hand in the blonde boy’s direction, “Hi, it’s lovely to meet you.” You told the boy your name before he finally introduced himself.

The boy shook your hand with a strong grasp, “I’m Reiner-”

“And, I’m Pieck,” A black haired girl said as she poked her head out from behind Reiner’s broad back. The girl stood in front of Jean and smiled up at him, “And, I suppose you’re my date. Unless she is-” Pieck glanced at you- “Which I’m more than okay with as well.”

“No,” Jean said quickly, “I am.”

“Awesome,” Pieck said with a smile, “Is there a table being readied for us inside or-”

“I have a reservation,” Reiner said, “The table should’ve been readied about ten minutes ago, when we were supposed to be here - Pieck - if you didn’t take an hour just to pick a dress.”

Pieck smiled wide though her words were drenched in venom, “I thought you said you’d stop mentioning that once we got here, Reiner.” Pieck turned to her friend with a tilt of her head. “Am I correct?”

Reiner’s face dropped as well as his stomach, “Of course, I’m sorry, Pieck.”

“So,” Jean said to fill the new silence that had settled, “You all think we should head inside now?”

“Yes!” Pieck said as she ran to Jean’s side, sliding her arm around his and pulling him off towards the front doors of the restaurant. You couldn’t help but pout at their backs as they walked off, noticing how close they immediately got with each other and even the new smile plastered across Jean’s face.

“And,” A gentle voice said suddenly from your left, “‘You ready to head inside as well?”

You looked at the boy by your side and took in the sight of his arm thrusted in your direction. His arm was thick, as much as a football player’s arm is supposed to be. And - if you looked close enough - you could see where his muscle was bulging beneath the fabric of his button down shirt and where the veins of his arms were protruding from within his skin.

You walked inside the restaurant by Reiner’s side, intertwining your arm with his. He talked briefly with the hostess at the entrance, and then walked with you as the group was led to a large table in the back. The table was sensually dimmed and if you were here with only one person, you were sure you would end the night in their arms - the atmosphere was enough to cause your heart rate to accelerate and butterflies to flutter around in your stomach.

You took the seat across from your date, and Pieck quickly took the seat to your right. The night started slowly, a light stream of conversation amongst the four of you. You talked about the general information of each person; their college major, their hobbies, their living situations, their weekend plans, and anything else someone could think of in the heat of the moment.

The night was going swimmingly, you ordered the white wine and a dish going by the name of polpette di cavallo which you hadn’t given much thought to before ordering. It was a smaller dish than what you were originally expecting, a white porcelain plate with a mysterious brown substance surrounding three meatballs.

You pushed your fork and knife through the slightly charred meat, cutting the balls into consumable pieces. You continued to talk with the group and - more specifically - Reiner. You found out more about the boy you were on the date with, from his personal life to his football career to his plans after college.

He was sweet, he was funny, and he always gave you time to speak - continuously asking you questions about yourself.

But, unfortunately for him, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Jean. He talked with Pieck to your right, and you couldn’t help but listen to every word exchanged between the two. Even going as far as cutting into their conversation a few times and answering a question clearly directed at Jean.

“And then,” You said in response to Pieck’s question, “Jean went back to the party to pick Connie up because he finally realized he left him behind!”

Pieck giggled loudly, “That’s amazing!” She completely turned in her seat, now facing you instead of her date. “Then, what happened?”

You leaned closer to the girl, “Then, he called and begged me to meet him at the party.” You grinned wider. “Because, he didn’t want to leave again after going back.”

Pieck quickly turned back to Jean, “Why didn’t you want to leave? Even after Sasha threw that drink in your face?” Pieck then looked back at you. “And, why did he call you to come to the party as well?”

You furrowed your eyebrows at Pieck, “I’m actually not sure-”

Jean shrugged lightly, “I just- I wanted another beer and I needed somebody to drive me home afterwards.”

You turned your gaze to Jean, your eyes lit  with a new fury. That was why he called you that night? For a damn ride, not even for your company? It was always strange to you how Jean could be so casually cruel. He’d speak before thinking and end up breaking a piece of your heart without  noticing - and he did it frequently.

“Seriously,” The word was drenched in hurt as you shouted it across the table at Jean, “That’s seriously all you called me for? You just wanted a ride, Kirstein?”

Jean scratched the back of his neck, “I know you don’t really like drinking so I wasn’t worried about you getting drunk-”

“What do you mean I don’t like drinking?” You thrusted your hand towards your half-full glass of white wine. “I drink all of the time, I’m a real maniac.”

Jean smiled, “Oh, you’re crazy-” Jean leaned on the table, coming closer to you- “I mean, you really are a maniac -  How can you possibly slowly sip white wine at an Italian restaurant?”

And, as quickly as Jean could upset you and break your heart, he could just as quickly mend your broken parts.

You bit your lip to hide your new smile, “I can go crazy-” You leaned towards Jean as well- “Sometimes, I sip from your beers and then I immediately regret it because it’s gross.”

“Oh,” Jean giggled with the word, “You’re wild.”

It was like time had stopped completely - which seemed to happen a lot when around Jean. You were sure it was because he was too beautiful not to stare at, and Father Time helped you by stopping everything altogether. Or, you thought the effect of time stopping was purely psychological considering how deeply you knew the boy. But, whatever the reason, time stopped nonetheless.

You sat motionless, only looking into Jean’s eyes - a color reminding you of a tiger's eye crystal. And - like a tiger’s eye crystal - Jean seemed to radiate confidence and strength, and gave you an unknown balance to your own being. Jean was your second half, a part of you that you hadn’t known was missing. He was like the second half of an undone puzzle or-

“How’s your-” Reiner said, suddenly breaking the moment between you and Jean- “Your- uh, po- polpette-”

“Polpette di cavallo,” Pieck finished Reiner’s sentence for him.

Reiner nodded briskly, “That.” He smiled wide at you. “How is that?”

“It’s good,” You said as you scanned the plate in front of you, “It’s very thick, I think they used a different part of the cow than what I’m used to.” You glanced at the three faces watching you intently. “Maybe the stomach? I don’t know what part they use for hamburgers, I don’t really like thinking about it.”

Pieck giggled and pushed your shoulder lightly, “You’re kidding, right?”

You widened your eyes at the girl, “Oh, is it not the stomach?” You cleared your throat. “Then, the- the thighs?”

“No, silly,” Pieck said with a smile, “That’s not beef-” Pieck thrusted at the meat still sitting on the plate in front of you- “That’s chavelin.”

You gave Pieck a blank face, “Chave- what?”

“Chavelin.” Pieck tilted her head at you. “You know, horse meat?”

Suddenly, the chavelin was making another entrance, just this time coming back up. You smashed a hand over your mouth as the horse meat mingled with your stomach acid, begging to be back on the plate in front of you. You made quick eyes around the table; first at Pieck who was rubbing your shoulder soothingly and asking what was wrong, then to Reiner who was leaning across the table with wide eyes, and then to Jean who was already standing, gesturing you towards the bathroom.

Jean, sweet Jean, you felt strangely guilty for consuming the meat but - oddly enough - he didn’t seem to mind. At least, he didn’t look like he minded as you ran off towards the bathroom, your high heels clicking quickly against the fancy tiles of the Italian restaurant.

You swung the bathroom door open, ignoring the cringeworthy smash that erupted through the room once the door hit the wall behind it. There were other women in the bathroom, but you ignored them as you made your way to the first open stall you could find. The women watched curiously as you fell to your knees in front of the toilet, threatening to throw up the food you had so mindlessly eaten for the last hour and a half.

Nothing came out though, only a few breathless burps into the toilet bowl. You sat there for a few minutes longer than you needed to, sitting against the marble-tiled wall beside the toilet. You pressed your face against the tiles lightly, letting the coolness calm down your sweating skin.

“This is the women’s restroom,” A woman’s voice said from beside the sink.

“I’m sorry,” A familiar voice said back, “I’m just here checking up on somebody. She got sick, I’m here to-”

You lightly pushed the bathroom stall open, leaning against the edge of the door. You smiled weakly at Jean, standing with two middle-aged women who you remembered briefly from when you ran in here. He seemed to be aggressively convincing them of his honesty, swinging his arms around ferociously with his words. And upon seeing you standing in the doorway, the women finally believed him and didn’t try stopping him any further.

“Hi,” You said delicately from across the few feet separating you and Jean, “This is the women’s restroom, what are you doing in here?”

Jean bit back his smile, “I thought you might want some company.” Jean crossed the steps between you, now only a few inches away. “Nobody deserves to puke alone.”

You lightly pushed Jean’s shoulder with a giggle, “You’re ridiculous, but thank you-” You turned around and opened your arms to the inside of the empty bathroom stall- “And, welcome to my humble abode.”

“Oh,” Jean said with a smile, “I like what you did with the place.”

You grinned, “Thank you, I just got done with renovations, so I appreciate that.”

“And,” Jean quickly added as he pointed towards the lone sink in the corner, “The kitchen area looks very nice.”

You shrugged, “I tried to go for something a bit more modern and minimalistic.”

Jean breathlessly giggled by your side, “Well, you succeeded.”

Jean let you take the first seat, watching as you found your spot beside the toilet with the side of your face against the tiled wall. Jean then joined you on the floor, sitting by your side and pressing the side of his face against the tiled wall, but only so he could make eye contact with you.

The bathroom got silent a minute after Jean joined you in the stall. You supposed the other women were either staying quiet in order to eavesdrop or left to return to their dinners. Either way - you didn’t care if the women were there or not - you were going to talk to Jean freely in your secret space.

You weren’t sure why the bathroom now felt sacred to you. It wasn’t at the end of the Labyrinth for only the worthy to find. Instead, it was a bathroom in an Italian restaurant with a purely Italian menu that you should have used Google Translate for. But, it felt like you and Jean’s secret space, a place where you two could always find each other and could spend the rest of eternity together. Nothing bad happened within these stall walls, and nobody was eating horse meat for the past hour and a half within these stall walls.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Jean suddenly asked in an attempt to fill the comfortable silence in the bathroom.

You nodded lightly, “Yeah, of course I do.”

You had met Jean at a house party freshman year of college. You were invited since your roommate at the time was sleeping with the home-owner which happened to be one of Jean’s closest friends. And - ironically - you met Jean on the bathroom floor in that house at that fateful party nearly two years ago. It was strange how things went full circle.

Jean leaned his shoulder into your own, “Do you remember why we even started talking that night?”

You grinned to yourself, “Yeah, I do.”

You only started talking to Jean that night because you found him crying on the floor of the bathroom when you went to find your roommate. He was tipsy and had just seen his ex-girlfriend - who he was clearly not over - downstairs, dancing with another man. You had a bag of popcorn that your roommate begged you to make for her, but you instead offered it to Jean and joined him on the bathroom floor.

Jean tilted his head towards you, “Do you remember what you said to me?”

You looked into Jean’s eyes through your thick eyelashes, “Yes, I remember.”

While sitting on the bathroom floor together, Jean ranted to you about his ex-girlfriend and even the new guy she was dancing with. You heard about why they broke up, who she moved onto, and why he couldn’t bring himself to move on. You then leaned into his side on that bathroom floor, whispering one phrase you had been telling yourself for years.

Jean smiled to himself, “When you go looking for gold, you end up finding fool’s gold - so don’t go looking at all.”

“Let the gold come to you.” You whispered back to Jean, finishing your own quote from two years ago. You hadn’t known the words were so monumentous, you thought nothing of the quote and yet it stayed with him all of these years.

“I followed your advice,” Jean said matter-of-factly, “I followed your advice so well - actually - that I even started to push the gold away when it was just within reach.” Jean looked down at his fingers fiddling with the fabric of his slacks. “I set her up on a hundred horrible dates hoping I could forget about her for only a moment. But, I couldn’t forget about her, even if somebody wiped my memory.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot as you smiled at Jean, “That doesn’t even make sense.” Jean looked at like a wounded deer, wide scared eyes taking up all of your sight. “You can’t remember me if your memory was wiped - that’s not possible.”

“I’d manage,” Jean said with newly red cheeks, “I couldn’t forget you, even if the government tried to make me.”

You pushed Jean’s shoulder playfully, “Nuh-uh - you’re a liar, Kirstein.”

Jean shook his head, “Nope, I’ll always remember you.” He leaned his head in towards you. “I’ll remember your laugh and that little wrinkle you get between your eyebrows when I do something stupid.”

“Oh,” You said with a playful furrow of your brow, “‘You mean the wrinkle I get when you do anything?”

Jean grinned lightly, “Yeah, that one.” He continued leaning in closer until he was only a whisper away. “And how you taste like tropical fruits - like lemons and coconut.”

“And,” You whispered to his mouth, “How do you know what I taste like?”

Jean smiled, “I just intend on finding out.” His lips were pressed lightly against your own, his hand on the side of your head. “So, can I find out?”

You nodded, “Please do.”

Jean gently pressed his lips to yours, and the feeling made your stomach flip with excitement. You moved your legs closer to his, bare thighs on clothed thighs and the hem of your dress shifting up to your hips. You didn’t mind the new coldness spreading over your legs because your insides felt unbearably hot when kissing him.

The softness of Jean’s lips weren’t anything new to you. You had kissed Jean before, a soft smooch during a drunk game of spin the bottle - but never like this. His lips tasted like blueberry vodka last time you tasted them, but now his lips tasted like rosé and mint - a byproduct of the wine he had been drinking all night and the mint he sucked on before you ran off towards the bathroom - It wasn’t the best taste, but you weren’t complaining.

“I’m glad you waited for me,” You whispered into Jean’s mouth.

It became extremely clear to you at some point of the night just how much Jean means to you. Maybe because of one of the many times when you caught Jean’s eyes looking into your own. Or, one of the many times you noticed Jean talking to you when telling a story, as if you were the only one there with him. Or, one of the many times when you watched Jean fiddle mindlessly with the top of his wine glass, his eyes never leaving your frame - mentally undressing you in front of everybody in the restaurant and both of your dates.

He couldn’t help it though, he’s always loved how you looked in that black satin dress. It seemed everybody liked the dress, considering both Reiner and Pieck couldn’t keep their eyes off of your frame as well. Reiner and Pieck, who were still waiting at that table, hoping for some word from their dates who now found themselves sucking face in the women’s restroom.

“Jean,” You whispered, “We should head back.”

Jean sighed, “Okay.”

So, you did. You left the bathroom with Jean and eventually the restaurant, planning on going to where you normally did after dates - Jean’s apartment. It wasn’t easy saying goodbye to such a nice guy like Reiner knowing there wouldn’t be a second date, and it wasn’t easy saying no to Pieck’s offer of a second date with just her, and it especially wasn’t easy staring into that half-finished plate of polpette di cavallo until you and Jean finally made your exit.

The car ride was mostly quiet, both of you ignoring the obvious elephant in the room - what the hell happened in the bathroom. You didn’t regret the conversation on the bathroom floor or even the kiss that came afterwards, but you did regret ever cutting the kiss short. You searched your mind for some way back to that moment, thinking of a plan of either building and operating a time machine or trying again with Jean.

“So,” You said, “Pieck seems nice.”

Jean grinned to himself, “So does Reiner.”

You nodded slowly and turned to look out of the window, “‘Think there will be a second date with her?”

“If you’re having a second date with Reiner.” Jean spared a glance from the road in order to look at you. “‘Think there will be a second date with him?”

“Eh, he’s not really my type.”

Jean stopped the car at a red light. The color red seeped through the windshield, turning the inside of the car a bright crimson. Jean’s features were lit up by the light as his gaze danced across every inch of your face.

“He’s not?” Jean asked, “Then, what’s your type?”

You furrowed your brow, “Are you stupid?”

Jean smiled wide, “What are you saying?”

You shook your head and leaned forward, caressing Jean’s cheeks gently. You pressed your lips to his, smiling against his mouth. Jean kissed you back, quickly turning a sensual peck into a feverish makeout.

You felt Jean’s hands as they moved up the soft fabric of your dress. His fingers moved across your side and then wrapped around your body, landing on your back. He used the new position to pull you closer, much to your surprise considering the gasp that escaped from between your lips to the movement.

You wrapped your arms around Jean’s neck, pulling his face in closer. You pushed your tongue towards his mouth, and he gladly let it enter between his lips. You felt his breath hitch in his throat when you curled your tongue and swiped it across the roof of his mouth. Jean responded to the kiss with a tight grip on your dress only bringing you in-

A car suddenly honked it’s horn from behind you. Jean and you pulled apart as quickly as possible, ignoring that anything had happened. You slowly wiped your thumb across your bottom lip, smearing the wetness from the kiss onto your fingertip.

The rest of the ride was brutal, your desire for Jean was only getting unbearable. He didn’t even have to do anything. His fingers curving around the steering wheel made your heart pound. His slight head bob to the music quietly playing from the radio made your stomach inflate with nerves. And, his perfect posture in the driver’s seat made you want to groan with how badly you wanted him.

It was ridiculous, you were turning into a prepubescent boy - finding anything and everything Jean did as the epitome of attraction.

The car couldn’t have pulled into the apartment building’s parking lot any sooner. You were practically melting in Jean’s passenger seat and you needed to feel him again, you didn’t care why. You opened the car door and eventually walked alongside Jean towards his apartment complex.

You silently walked into the apartment building with Jean, and even rode up the elevator just as quiet. You waited beside him as he unlocked his apartment door. You watched as the muscles in his back moved under his shirt as he attempted to hold the door and unlock it at the same time - a trick the lock needed since the apartment was so old.

Once inside, you quickly kicked your shoes off, leaving them to lay with his shoes. You dropped your purse with the shoes as well, leaving it on the floor beside the door. And once you had discarded your unneeded items, you stood there - waiting for a sign from him, any sign at all.

Jean crossed his arms against his chest, his eyes landing on anything in the room but you. He peered across the kitchen and living room, even eyeing his bedroom door for a few seconds. Jean sighed before mumbling into the awkwardly silent room.

“So,” Jean said, “What do you want to do?”

You pressed your lips together, “I liked what we were doing in the car.” Jean suddenly looked at you, his eyes widened. “And, in the bathroom at the restaurant.”

Jean grinned to himself, “‘You wanna do that again?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “I do.”

Jean crossed the space between you, swooping his arms around you and pressing your chest into his. You bent your head upwards, giving Jean more room as his mouth pressed kisses into your neck and cheek. You giggled with your words as you attempted to speak.

“Jean,” You said as you pushed your fingers through his soft hair. You moved Jean’s face back enough to make eye contact with him. “‘Race you to the bedroom?”

Jean never thought he could let go of you in general, never mind quicker than he’s ever done anything before in his life. As soon as you were out his arms, Jean was running towards his bedroom door. You tried to beat him though, grabbing his arm and pulling him backwards, but nothing stopped him - he beat you into the bedroom.

You left the door open in front of you, standing back as Jean threw his discarded clothes from the bedroom floor and into his laundry basket - a half assed attempt at cleaning up. You supposed the gesture was nice, considering he wanted to clean up for you. But, it was even nicer knowing Jean had never seen his date with Pieck ending here.  

Your eyes peered across the entirety of his bedroom, something so familiar now with a different connotation. You’ve touched Jean plenty of times in this very room, but not the way you’re about to. You knew that after tonight, everything would be different between you two - but a good type of different that filled you with hope.

Your eyes landed on the alarm clock on his bedside table, the red numbers flickering suddenly from 11:59 to 12:00.

Second Sunday

Jean’s body weight was crushing on top of you, but a type of crushing weight that was comfortable. You swore you could live under Jean’s body for the rest of eternity. He was warm and strong and his kissing only made the position all that much better.

Your dress was on the floor and you were mostly naked, lying on Jean’s bed with only a bra and panties on. He pressed his bare chest into your chest, the only clothes on his body being his pair of slacks and the brown belt holding them up.

“Jean,” You breathed into his mouth, “I want you.”

Jean groaned against your lips, the sound coming from deep within his throat. He had never thought he’d hear those words from your lips, he never thought he’d be good enough to. But alas, here you were; underneath him, mostly naked, whispering gut wrenching phrases into his mouth.

You moved your hands down his lean body, dainty fingers finding the waistline of his pants. You undid the belt around his waist and threw it to the floor once it was out of the belt loops. You then brought your hands to his zipper, undoing that as well.

You pushed Jean’s slacks down his legs, moving them out of the way in order to free enough space for what you really wanted from him at the moment. You curled your hands around his body, digging your nails into his back in an attempt to bring him closer. You pressed your fingers into the small of his back as you bucked your hips upwards towards him.

You felt as Jean’s hardness pressed down between your legs, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped from between your lips. Jean moved his lips from yours, allowing more panting breaths to escape from your mouth as he continued to press down into you. He instead kissed down your neck, taking in each moan and ingraining them into his memory.

You moved your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, and pushed them down over his hips. He was just as big as you had always assumed. You weren’t perverted or dirty minded per say, but some nights you’d catch yourself with an excessive amount of questions; you’d wonder about his size, if he were good in bed, and if he had ever satisfied a woman before.

Sure enough, your questions would be answered after tonight.

You brought your hips to his, feeling him through only one layer of clothing now. You brought your hips off of the bed, pushing your panties down over your thighs. You awkwardly moved your legs around Jean’s, attempting to kick the fabric to the floor.

Jean brought his mouth to your ear before breathily whispering, “Do you still want me?”

You nodded frantically, “Yes, yes- yes, please.”

Jean grinned at your response, finally bringing his hips to yours. It was a moment you had waited for for much longer than you thought. This moment was in the distance for two whole years, and now it was finally here. You had wanted this for so long, to the point where you’d take anything Jean would give you - such as a drunken peck and a date with nearly every man on campus.

Next Chapter

#jean kirstein #jean aot #aot #modern au #college au #jean x reader #aot x reader #jean boy #jean kirstein x reader #double date #x reader #slight smut #f/m

[jamilelucato]

Hi there! Could I maybe get a fred Weasley x Romanian!Reader and maybe like she goes to the burrow for the holidays? She could try to confess to him by telling him he loves him in Romanian but always telling him it means sth else. But she doesn't know about Charlie and the fact that he used to live there, and then... y'know, up to you? Just thought this was an interesting idea lmaoo. Thank you and congrats!!🥺💕

Te Iubesc [F.W.]

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Romanian!reader (can be from any House really)

A/N: I ended up changing a bit of your context and only noticed it later, and I’m really sorry for that. Instead of she saying it all the time, she accidentally confesses it in Romanian. I'm sorry it's not what you actually asked for, but I hope you enjoy it either way.

Send a request! ||  Harry Potter Masterlist ||  Musical Hogwarts Series

**

It was particularly weird being a Romanian at Hogwarts, but since it was your parents’ dream to you study there, you were not to complain.

It took you a while to find your place, but it was way easy when the famous Weasley Twins played a prank on you. 

When your whole body turned blue, and you ran around the corridors of Hogwarts, asking, angrily, if anyone had seen who could be guilty of it — you knew it could only have been the twins. They appeared two hours later in front of you, with puckered foreheads and using minimal eye contact. One of them had a flask, and he handed it to you.

“We’re really sorry,” he said, with an almost smile, but not of happiness. He wouldn’t dare laugh at your blue skin while you stared at him with a killer expression. “It wasn’t for you; we mixed it up in the deliver.”

“And what is this?” you asked, raising the flask closer to your eyes to analyze it better.

“The antidote,” one of them said.

“You don’t want to be forever blue, do you?” asked the other and they both giggled.

You drank all the liquid in one gulp, desperate to go back to your natural colour. The twins stared at you while your body changed its colour, and you couldn’t see the point. What did they want? Thanks?

“Are you two expecting me to thank you?” you asked, with a mean voice.

They exchanged looks before smiling.

“No, we just would like to introduce ourselves, that’s all,” said the one that had more freckles.

“You’re Fred and George Weasley, everyone knows who you are,” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. You saw their eyes following your arms, and then they blushed. You chuckled at those boys stupidity.

“But do you know which is which?” he continued, smirking. “I’m Fred,” he whispered, tipping you since you hadn’t answered his question.

“I’m George,” said the other.

You took a great look at both of their faces, making sure you discerned things that would make it easier to differentiate them. Fred had a better posture, nothing very perfect, but just slightly better than George. And he had more freckles, at least on his face he did.

“I’m y/N,” you said, noticing they were waiting for you to present yourself.

And that was enough for a born of a beautiful friendship.

The pranks still got you, those times on purpose, but they all gave you a break when you asked. You started helping them with their homework and study for exams — even though they hated it.

You lost track of how many vacation days you spent in the Burrow, and this year, you were going back there. You were especially excited this year — and partly worried — because, since the beginning of the sixth year, you’ve been developing an enormous, gigantic crush on Fred.

So, spending the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys, having Fred next to you all weekend, was going to be awesome, but also terrifying because he had no idea you fancied him — and you wanted things to still be like that. 

Fred was known to have had tons of girlfriends — he usually told you everything about every girl he ever snogged. You didn’t want to be just another one that he would abandon in a month. That would completely ruin your friendship, and that meant being apart from a ton of other friends. Being friends with the twins allowed you to befriend Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry, and now they are essential in your life too.

“Hi, dear!” Molly hugged you tightly as soon as you stepped in the kitchen. You hugged her back once your shock passed. “I’m so happy to have you here for another year; surely I can’t stand my kids saying again I have a terrible taste for music.”

Oh, yeah, one fact: every Weasley kid (in particular Fred) hated your taste in music. They hated it because you loved the same singers as their mom did, and Fred disliked it the most. As more annoyed he got by your singing, more you sang.

“By the way,” you smiled, “you’ll love the present I got you. I know I shouldn’t say something yet,” you leaned in Mrs Weasley’s ear and whispered: “but I just wanna make sure you haven’t got Warbeck’s newest CD, have you?”

Molly Weasley gasped in surprise and hugged you even tighter.

“That’s why you’re my favourite!” she muttered in your ear and winked when you leaned away and faced her.

Blushing, you went upstairs to find the room Molly always left for you — it was Charlie’s old room. It was the closest to the twins, so you liked it. And the place was decorated with old faded posters of creatures only your home country could offer.

You’ve never met Charlie Weasley, only Bill and Percy, but you knew he was fascinated with dragons, and that your country had to offer. 

You lost a couple of minutes staring at one of the posters; not for the dragon, but because of the background — your old but forever home.

When you got out of the room, you didn’t even need to wander around to find the twins.

“y/N! You came!” shouted an excited Fred Weasley, getting you by your waist and spinning you around in a hug.

George was right next to his twin, rolling his eyes at how foolishly obvious you two were about fancying each other, but none would move a finger to change the situation.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you say when Fred finally puts you down. “Hey, George!”

George hugs you too, but not with the same passion as Fred. It makes you wonder if it was your fault somehow to why Fred spun you around. You should have gone with a simple embrace like you’re doing with George. Gosh, why having a crush has to be so hard?

“So, we’re planning a Quidditch game in the yard. You in?” Fred asked as soon as George released you.

“Sure,” you smiled, placing your hands on your waist. “But I’m seeker,” you warned, raising a brow.

“Harry will love to hear that,” George commented.

“And I need a broom,” you added, tilting your head, trying to look pity-worth.

“You can take mine,” Fred said while you three headed downstairs.

You stopped right away. George kept walking, and suddenly it was just you and Fred in the middle of the stairs.

“You’re gonna use your old one? No way; that thing sucks, Fred,” you said.

“But a seeker needs a better broom than a beater,” he pointed out, tilting his head towards you and some red locks fell upon his eyes. Instinctively, you reached for them and took away from his eyes. He blushed with a small smile.

“You’re too nice to me,” you said, nodding and starting to walk again.

“Perhaps you deserve it,” he muttered, half-hoping you wouldn’t hear, and half-hoping you would.

Fred has been playing this dangerous game for a while now — plainly flirting with you, expecting that if you didn’t see him that way, you would take it as a joke.

When the game finally started, you were glad to be in Fred’s team. Some arrangements had to be done to accommodate less than the minimum number of players per team, so instead of two beaters, your team had only Fred.

Ginny was your keeper; even though she hated the position, she was proving to be quite good at it. Of course, Ron, on the other side, was being way better.

The disadvantage for you was that although you are a great seeker, you had to be also a good chaser, because your team had only three players with you, so that left you with two jobs. Fred helped as much as he could, but he was more used to his role as a beater than to play a chaser.

When George’s team won — Harry got the Snitch (I mean, come on, how to compete?) — you were completely dirty.

You’d never tell Fred, but George was a better beater than the twin, so you’d been hit more times than you would’ve liked and ended up rolling on the grass, still wet from the rain the night before, enough times that your pants (which were blue jeans) were now the colour of mud.

None of this was bothering you, however. You were, in fact, laughing at yourself and everyone who was also dirty. Hermione had arrived in time to watch the last minutes of the match, but she was now trapped in the kitchen, with Ron and Harry filling her with bizarre theories. George and Ginny had run off right after the victory celebration, to see who could get to the shower first.

Although you have no idea how long you would still have to stay dirty, showering was your last concern. At the moment, you were occupied in trying to smudge Fred even more, while both rolled on the grass like two crazy kids.

It felt like a tickling and laughing competition — what you were competing about was uncertain, however, you were definitely competing because Fred wasn’t leaving you alone and you were loving it.

“Thanks for the match, Fred,” you said the instant you were able to breathe without laughing. You were propped up on your right elbow, which raised your head enough so that you could see the redhead’s face, who was looking at the sun that was already hiding behind the clouds. “You could have left me; it was clear that I was going to lose.”

“Give it up then, y/N. I’ll never leave you,” he replied, looking sideways at you and looking back at the setting sun.

You took a deep breath, enchanted by his beauty and his words. When you realized you had already said: “Te iubesc.”

Fred turned quickly at you, frowning. “Did you say something?”

You gulped, as red as one can get and quickly got up. You had just said you loved him, thankfully in Romanian, but still... Close call.

“I’m heading to the shower,” for the first time that late afternoon, you were urgent to get cleaned up. 

“I don’t think George — or Ginny, whoever got there first — is done yet,” Fred said, sitting down on the grass.

“Doesn’t matter,” you pretended to laugh it off and rushed inside the Burrow, leaving a confuse Fred behind.

Well, not so confused. Fred was almost certain you said “te iubesc” to him, and he was sure that was something in Romanian. He knew you were from there, and he always waited for the moment you would let a Romanian dialect, word or accent slip, but that day never came — until now.

He waited for this moment because he made Charlie teach him some primary words, so he could reply with a ”yes”, “no” or simply “Nu mai esti în România.”

Although at the top of his head, your words didn’t click in his head as nothing he knew the meaning, he had a feeling he had heard it before. He could ask Charlie, but knowing the family owl, it would take Fred a week to learn the meaning.

He waited a while before heading to the kitchen, where he found a distracted Harry, a sceptical Hermione and his younger brother, Ron, eating, as always.

“Ron?”

“Huh?” Ron let out between bites. 

“Have you seen Mum?” Fred asked.

“I think she’s doing laundry,” Ron answered. “Why?”

“Wanted to ask her something, that’s all,” Fred was already turning away when Hermione called.

“Perhaps I can help. What’s it?”

“Nosy,” grunted Ron, but the girl didn’t hear.

“It’s a phrase in Romanian. Somehow, I think I heard Charlie say it to Mum once,” Fred shrugged, assuming Hermione wouldn’t be able to help with that.

“Your mom keeps a Romanian dictionary in the living room. Over the fireplace,” Hermione said as if it was nothing — as if the whole family knew about it.

Fred raised his brows, suddenly excited. “Thanks, Hermione,” he mumbled before rushing to the fire to get the book.

After some minutes with it, Fred was about to give up. The dictionary was no help with phrases; it was only good for random words alone.

“Mum!” he exclaimed in surprise and relief when Molly walked in, holding a basket of clean clothes.

“Fred!” she exclaimed back. She wasn’t used with her kids that excited to see her.

“Last time Charlie was here, he was using a lot of Romanian dialects,” Fred started, not sure of how to proceed.

“Yes,” his mother simply said.

“And he said something to you after hugging you. Did he translate?”

“Oh! Te iubesc?” Molly definitely was not used to Romanian — in Fred opinion her accent was terrible compared to yours, but the words were apparently the same, so he didn’t complain.

“That’s it! What does it mean?” Fred jumped from the couch towards his mother.

“It means I love you. Your brother is such a sweetie,” Molly smiled with the memory — she missed all her kids, but most especially Charlie and Bill.

Mrs Weasley was so distracted by the memory of the last hug she gave her son, that she left the room without lingering with her older twin son. She didn’t seem to notice that Fred was paralyzed in place, relying on the sofa to keep him upright.

Fred couldn’t think — he was silly, completely silly. As crude as the adjective was, that was how he felt. He was happy, of course, he was!

You had practically declared yourself to him, and yet you had done so in innocence, using your mother tongue, which, in Fred’s opinion, only proved how true you were.

He had to do something about it. But what? It’d be ridiculous to use your words to reciprocate the statement — Fred wouldn’t be able to copy the accent well enough to make the sentence natural.

Something told him that he should act naturally about it and wait for your confession in English, which would mean that you really wanted him to understand. 

But then, how to look at you again and ignore that the most beautiful girl in the world, the friendliest, the funniest, the most talented, had said that she loved him? How would he ever go back to acting normally knowing that the only girl he ever loved— that he always hoped would be his— loved him?

Taking a deep breath, Fred came to an inevitable conclusion: he needed to be the one who would confess his feelings. Now he just needs a plan to how to do it.

After a long wait, it was finally your time with the shower, and you hoped it would clean not only your skin but also your thoughts.

So close, so close you came of confessing to Fred. Well, you actually did it, but in Romanian, so he’ll never know it.

You needed to distract yourself from Fred Weasley, but after that shower, everywhere you looked, there he was. 

Fred was outside of the bathroom, waiting for his turn to shower. You greeted him with a yellow smile before rushing back to your room. 

Just an hour before dinner, you were sitting in the living room, and he decided to sit next to you in the couch. Sure a part of you was thrilled, but another was freaking out.

When dinner was ready, he sat next to you again at the table.

When you thought you were about to free yourself from him —leaving quickly from the dinner table and rushing to get the armchair, where you would at least sit alone, he called you out.

“I need to show you...” he looked around before continuing in a whisper, “... a new product.”

You sighed, deciding it was better if you learned how to swallow your feelings and let your love for Fred kill you from inside out.

You two walked to upstairs where he guided you to hs room.

“Where’s George?” you asked once you sat down, remembering that generally, when they had a new product, George was always around to see your reaction too.

Fred just shrugged, almost ignoring your question.

“I have something to tell you,” he said fast, scared he would lose his courage. “And, well, I don’t really know how to do it... You see, I’ve never told a girl I’m in love with her before.”

Fred hadn’t realized that he had just done that, so while he was lost in words, rambling how amazing you were, you were frozen at just the “I’m in love” bit.

“Come again?”

“...should have said it sooner, because I’ve been... — wait, which part do you want me to say again?” he stopped his tracks.

You sighed and looked up from your knees, raising your eyes enough to meet his.

“You love me?”

“Te iubesc, yes,” Fred said. and then he hit himself in the forehead because he had promised he wasn’t going to use Romanian to declare his feelings. “Sorry about the Romanian bit. I love you, yes, that’s what I meant.”

“Wait. You understood me earlier?” your brain was just malfunction at this point, like a broken old computer.

“Not right away...” Fred stopped talking when he noticed you were panicking. “Look, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time now. When you said it first, you just made things easier for me.”

“How did you know?”

“Charlie, my brother. He lives in Romania.”

Damn it, of course, the dragon fanatic would have gone live in your country; why wouldn’t he?

For a few minutes, or at least you guessed it had only been minutes, Fred stood in front of you, who was sitting on his bed, and the two avoided looking at each other for a long time.

“Should’ve guessed. Your mom kept Charlie’s posters of my country in his room,” you tried to laugh it off.

Fred ended up chuckling too. “Can we quit being awkward? I really want to kiss you,” he said, smiling and blushing slightly at the same time. “I mean, my brother will leave the room just to us for not much longer.”

It was your time to chucked while getting up, ready to have Fred’s lips in your for what you hoped would be the first of many times.

“I have a room for my own, silly,” you whispered in his ear before he smirked and trapped you in his embrace.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x romanian reader #george weasley #the burrow #hary potter #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley x you #fred and george weasley #fred and george

[renaxwrites]

Eleven

.08 - No Control

synopsis: the number Eleven had always appeared in milestones of your life. it was a constant, and you didn’t know why. but you would soon find out when you study abroad in japan and meet Him.

pairing: tsukishima x fem!reader

warnings: none!

masterlist: here :)

a/n: it’s been a quick minute! also I’m not entirely sure how taxis and such work in Japan, so for the sake of the story, we’re using uber! no smelly taxis for you ma’am >:) also I picked bops I felt fit with the groups lol don’t fight me on the vibes I got :) also here’s a TikTok that inspired the Suga scene: <3 !

previous || next

I can’t contain this anymore. I’m all yours, I’ve got no control.

“Are you sure this looks okay? I feel a little more breeze than usual...”

“Y/n, it’s fine! You look stunning. And if you don’t believe me, ask Mizuki. MIZUKI-SAN!! We need some confirmation over here!!” Suga bellowed.

You, Suga, and Mizuki were all centered in the main room. Even Akiteru was home for the night. Tonight was the volleyball “get-together” downtown, with not only Karasuno, but with other schools as well.

Everyone was expected to dress a little nicer, since it was a night out in the town. Tsukki and Yamaguchi has already left, getting ready within 10 minutes. He walked out the door as soon as he heard, “I’ll be ready in 2 hours...minimum” come out of your mouth. And you’re glad he did. For now.

Your fashion choice was mutually decided that past weekend between Suga and Yachi, who were both in on your “karaoke confession” plan. Their dress choice for you made you feel like a dream. You had eyebrows fleekd, the lashes on, the eyeliner pointed, the heels strapped, the whole she-bang! However, you were worried about actually going out in it. Right now it looks good in your room, but how does it look outside of it?

“Y/n dear, you look ever-so lovely. And might I say, I’m sure it’ll turn the head of even a more emotionally unaware, six foot tall, blonde player,” Mizuki truthfully reassures.

Wait. WHAT?

Your reaction was like an open book, causing the room to chuckle.

“Yes, y/n, as emotionally constipated as my brother is, it’s a little obvious there’s a little chemistry between you two. And itd be ludicrous if he didn’t see you in that dress like we do. If he doesn’t, I’ll teach him a lesson myself,” Akiteru punches his empty hand.

“Well...if you say so...”

“But before you go, let me take a picture! You all look adorable!” Mizuki exclaimed.

A few minutes of photo-snapping later, you were off! Since the event was farther, the two of you shared an uber for convenience. You were already struggling with breaking in your new heels, there was no way you were going to make it! Thank goodness for Suga’s common sense.

  ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Soon, you arrived in front a low-lighted club, with neon lights accenting it’s features. The only detail setting apart from a real club was that it was being rented out to you, majority minors, so no alcohol would be seen in any of your hands. Not all of you were minors, but none of you were at the country’s drinking age yet.

The bass from the music amplified the atmosphere, which suddenly closed in on you, making you nervous. Suga noticed right away, and was quick to put a rub your shoulder and let you know “everything is fine, don’t worry.”

He leads you to where the main mingling was happening. Immediately, you see players who you recognized, but don’t quite know. You stride up to a group seated on a leather couch, seating Daichi, Hinata, and Yamaguchi. Beside them were a bed-headed individual, a pudding-haired boy talking only to Shoyo, an owl-looking dude, and a very dashing raven-haired boy. Oh, and Tsukishima. Can’t forget him.

“Oy! You guys made it!” Daichi announced. “Now everyone is here! Before we start, let me introduce these guys. This here is Kuroo and Kenma, captain and setter for Nekoma. Bokuto, and Akaashi, captain and setter for Fukurodani.”

Formalities were exchanged, but Tsukishima hasn’t uttered a word yet. He was too occupied with how Suga’s hand was on your back when you first walked in. Why’d you come with him? And that one second of silence before Daichi’s greeting. Within that split moment, he noticed all 8 of the boys on the couch had drank in your appearance. Including himself. How could he help it, when you looked as angelic as the way you did?

Only Kuroo was cheeky enough to comment on it. “Daichi, you never told me you had such cute managers! Hope you don’t mind me transferring to Karasuno,” he said with a wink sent your way.

“Keep flirting like a creep and I’ll sit you on the bench for the whole season if you do transfer,” Daichi half-jokingly replied. Kuroo only cackled in response.

“But you do look very pretty, y/n-san. I almost didn’t recognize you for a second! Very pretty!” Hinata innocently piped up. If Tsukishima was ever thankful for Hinata, it was now, as his comment made you blush.

“Let’s get this started! Captains, up to the front please!” Daichi announced, leading the captains present to the front of the room.

You and Suga replace the spot where Daichi and Bokuto were. It was then that Tsukishima decided to acknowledge your presence. With a shoulder tap.

“So. It took you two hours to pull something together like that? Looks like it only took 20 minutes to me,” was the first thing that he said.

You turn to look at him. Raising a brow, you ask, “Tsukishima. On average it takes me 12 minutes to get ready for school. And on the few months we’ve known each other, have you seen me with makeup on? Or in heels? Didn’t think so sir. So sue me if I want to slap some eyeliner on.”

You cross your arms and turn the other way. In doing so, your dress hiked up your thighs, leaving your legs a little more exposed. The sight causes Tsukishima to blush and distract himself with something else.

“Alright everyone, thank you for joining us tonight! Before we get started, we want to wish all the teams a ‘good luck’ in advance!” Daichi goes on to explain the theme for the night: TikTok. Some people were confused, but most, including yourself, were super hyped for the theme.

The teams drew numbers, picking the order. First was Nekoma, Fukurodani next, followed by Karasuno.

The Nekoma third years started it off strong, dancing and singing shamelessly to Savage from the TikTok challenge. The nerves you were nursing began to dissipate as you watch how much fun the boys were having trying to ‘throw it back’. You were still holding your stomach by the time Kuroo came back to his seat, trying to comfort the aches you had from laughing so hard.

“Enjoy the show, princess?” The captain teased as he tried to keep his own laughter at bay.

You wipe a tear, not wanting to ruin your makeup. “My gosh, who knew the players of Nekoma could thow a volleyball and throw it back? Immaculate performance, a definite ten out of ten from me.”

“There’s more where that came from, if you want. I’m excited to see your attempt, though,” he countered with a wink.

Before you could retaliate, Bokuto thunderously intervened. “Hey! If you thought that was good, just wait for mine. I’ve been told I have more...what was it Akaashi?....No, one those girls said that one time....OH! I’ve got wayyy more ‘cake’ than that bed-head rooster does!” He triumphantly crossed his arms.

“Shut up owl-face! Y/N can be the judge, winner gets bragging rights.” “You’re on flat-ass!”

Nekoma had since finished their turn (in which Kenma conveniently showed up from hiding), giving Bokuto the opportunity to sprint up the karaoke stage. He had a plan set into motion. With a mini emo-episode and several attempts of bribing, the ace-captain was followed by his reluctant teammates.

They all gathered in some formation, leaving you curious. You and your seat mates ponder as to what song they would choose to try and top Nekoma’s third years.

You hear a familiar “Hold on...” burst from the speakers, and you immediately gasp aloud. Those sitting around turn to you. However, Bokuto’s next line in the mic instantly stole the attention of the whole room.

“Did you hear what the fuck I SAID??? SHAKE!! SOME ASSS!!!”

Everyone bursts in hysterics as Bokuto started enthusiastically started twerking to the beat, his teammates following his lead, much to their dismay. However, what finally killed you was when Akaashi stood silently as he began to toss one-dollar bills in his captain’s direction.

Suga handed you some tissues for you to prevent your tears from staining your makeup. Bokuto took his boastful stride back to the couch, taking his seat.

“So? Better than flat-ass over here? Guess volleyball isn’t the only thing I’m better at, Kuroo.”

The two captains await your answer, to which you silently pull out a few dollar bills.

“Kuroo, I do believe you gave your best shake, but Bokuto is the taker. Please sir, take this token and buy yourself a drink, as the winner with the best cake,” you bow your head, trying to stifle your laughter.

Bokuto finalizes your decision with a boastful “Hey Hey Heyyy!”, and goes to buy the group some water with your generous donation.

“Alright, so who from Karasuno wants to go first?” Ah, the question you secretly dreaded.

Suga gives you a look. You return a look to him, silently praying that you don’t want to go first. But Suga being Suga volunteered you both, hastily dragging you along. As the two of you ready yourselves on the mics, a conversation sparked up back where you once sat.

“Thanks for the water, Bokuto-san, I have a feeling I’m going to need it in a minute,” the Nekoma captain stated in a nonchalant tone.

“Huh? Why?” Everyone else inquires, suddenly curious. He simply leans back. Arms behind his head, eyes on you. “She’s kinda cute, dont’cha think?”

Tsukishima follows his gaze, then proceeds to glare back at his friend. Kuroo notices, then feigns innocence. “What? She’s pretty, can’t blame a guy for noticing...why? You have your eye on her too or something, Tsukishima-kun?”

The blonde then breaks his stare, scowling. “Or something.”

The expression Tsukki wore when watching you told Kuroo otherwise.

Back onstage, you silently pray that Suga’s mystery song choice was a decent one. You trusted the man, but then again, some choices of his were questionable.

“Okay y/n, you ready? And don’t say no because we’re doing it no matter what you say!” he flashes you a blinding smile. You just nod in response and try not to sweat.

The song begin, and everyone instantly is hit with the familiar sound. You turn to Suga and lightly slap his arm playfully. “You really picked this one? I haven’t heard this in so long!” To which he responds, “Can’t blame me!” You couldn’t come up with a response before he began to sing his heart out, releasing all he needed to say within the words of the song.

“Can’t count the years on one hand that we’ve been together...I need the other one to hold you, make you feel, make you feel better...”

The sound was sucked out of the room, with Suga being the only one to fulfill it. You were so mesmerized by his voice you found yourself swaying to the music, your body having a mind of its own.

“I should be over all the butterflies, but I’m into you, I’m into you. And baby even on our worst nights, I’m into you...”

Before your part arose, he picks up your hand and spins you around in time with the melody. This was enough to bring you to your senses. Suga gives your fingers a squeeze as you began your part.

“Recount the night that I first met your mother, and on the drive back to my house I told you that, told you that I loved ya...”

The way the stage lights presented you had your friends captivated. There was something different about you as you sang your lullaby. The movement of your hips was captivating to a certain boy you once linked pinkies with. The reflection of your dress in tune with your movements left him breathless. Tsukishima swore thw way you looked into his eyes while mustering out “I’m still into you...” was for him. Even if it was a figment of his imagination, he was fine with just pretending for a mere moment.

You attack Suga with a hug after finishing Paramore’s famous song, flustered at the amount of applause you both faced. hand-in-hand, the two of you retreated back to your rightful seat, and were once again bombarded with praise.

“Y/N!! SUGA-SAN!! That was amazing!!” “The way you two harmonized...immaculate” “I didn’t know you were so good!”

“Thanks, it wasn’t much,” you play with your hair, still slightly embarrassed. You looked up into a pair of golden eyes, waiting for the only opinion you cared about tonight.

Tsukishima returns your stare, quickly glances at your clasped hands with Suga, then reverts his gaze just as quickly. “Well you didn’t mess up so...good job.”

You roll your eyes so hard you felt the tips of your false lashes touch your brows. “Thanks, Tsukishima.” You’re go of Suga’s hand and plop down to to your seat with a huff.

“Y/n-chan, don’t worry about him. Pretty sure that’s his way of saying he loved your voice. I know I did,” Kuroo reassures, patting on your head.

You failed to notice the way Tsukki’s cheeks tinted with pink as he threw a hard glare at his friend. What you did see was Suga headed outside with none other than Daichi. Alone.

You send him a tex expecting details later, not expecting him to reply anytime soon.

You’re thrown out of your curious train of thought when Nishinoya and Tanaka began to rave to “Hot wings” from the Rio movie. The underrated bop served them well, as everyone migrated to the dance floor to rejoice to their song of choice.

Silently bobbing in your seat, you’re granted an offer. “Want to join me?” The hand outstretched belonging to Kuroo, of course.

With consent, he pulls you up and starts guiding you to the middle, a hand on your back.

You look back sweetly at Tsukishima. “You coming?”

In the .5 seconds of coming up with a response, the blonde rapidly weighed out his decisions. Ultimately, he shook his head, keeping on the same deadpan expression as before.

It was obvious you tried not to look deflated as you plater a smile on your face. “Okay then! I’ll be over here!”

He watched you walk away. He watched you dance as if it was your last night on earth. He watched the way your dress hugged your figure, magnifying your endless dips and curves of your body as you moved to the atmosphere. He watched the way you glowed under the endless rainbow of stage lights, bestowing you with an alluring aura.

The way he watched you so intently sent his thoughts spiraling. He found his brain in a dilemma with his heart, which was thumping wildly in his chest.

Tsukishima decided it was best to escape his own confrontation. He exchanged some words with Yamaguchi, then strides out the door.

Not before he took a last look at you.

Practically drenched in a layer of sweat, you lug yourself off to the side and catch a breath. “I’m going to go get some water!” You shout to your friend in order to be heard over the music.

You check the time on your phone, then look to the couch you once sat on.

It was Eleven’o clock. And Tsukishima was gone.

Powerless, and I don’t care it’s obvious. I just can’t get enough of you.

Tag list: @jiminslonglostjams @fantasymirror @shewastheriot @lukes-princess @iamthepenguinwhosearseisonfire @its-bnha-babe @desi-studys @shootooooo @noya-senpai-imagines @animefan7420 @anpancari @tsukkx @cadabby @thoebe-fly @it-was-just-a-ship @imconfusedanditsok @alexa360b34st @delicious-peaches-blog @shinguchi @creammy0 @fandoms-on-main @smellybananaz @keikink @tsukiak4ri @skyguy-peach @chicalmeida @obsessedwhxre @anhphunnnn @200th-piece-of-glass @sana-li

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! imagines #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima imagine #kei tsukishima #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishimaimagine #haikyuu imagines #eleven #rena imagines

[doodlingstuff]

Heaven knows I’m proud, but I’ll turn ‘round

Chapter 15 of Comeback.

Proceed with caution. This is loaded with heavy angst and almost every TW.

***

All comments, likes, kudos and shares make my day shine. Thank you for reading 🧡

***

Cold brushes Andrew’s arms and face.  

His armbands and knives are not with him.        

It takes several tries to open his eyes.  

Before he can reckon his surroundings, he feels the hot hands in his arms, dragging him across grass and dirt. Then he feels the cold metal around his wrists.

He plants his feet on the ground. He is too dizzy, but he spent years under heavy medication. He can fight even drugged.

When the men holding him notice he is awake, they are received by a kick and a headbutt. Andrew can only duck and kick since his hands are tied to his back. He has another three persons behind him. There’s no time to maneuver his legs and put his arms in front of him to punch them properly, so he runs.  

It’s too dark to see where he’s going, but he can see a highway ahead. He sprints faster to reach it. However, his path gets blocked by a massive man holding a crowbar. Andrew dodges him and keeps going.  

He can almost step foot on the highway when three pairs of hands grab him from the arms, the legs, his torso. He spins and tries to kick, but he is outnumbered. His hands are tied. His knives are lost. He is carried back to a pig’s car.  

It doesn’t matter how much he moves and twists, the men holding him above the ground have a fierce grip on his body.  

A woman approaches. He can’t see her face in the dark, but he can hear.

“Ain’t no fun if you hurt us.”  

The smile never leaves her face as she smacks a rock to Andrew’s head.

Next time he wakes up, Andrew is sitting on a chair. The room is covered in darkness.  

Moisture dampens his head and shoulder. The scars in his arms are stinging like they are split open again, but he can’t see.

“Look, our tiny toy is back.”  

Andrew struggles to wake up fully. His head is hammering too hard to focus.  

Contours start to appear as his eyes get adjusted to dark.  

Knives glint on walls and there is a drain in the middle of the room.  

He has been here before. His hazed brain takes a few moments more to recall. 

No.  

Neil has been here before.  

This is one of his nightmares, not Andrew’s.

---

Next Monday after Neil’s party, Andrew almost needed to be shoveled out of bed.

Daily morning practices were off for nearly four months and he was fine with not having to wake up early for fucking stickball. But it’s Neil’s first practice since he got back and his good mood was spreading fast through the dorm, so even Andrew felt the need to put some effort, even if it was the bare minimum.

Classes came and went and then it was time for afternoon practice. He was used to head to Abby’s place then to be with Neil. It was strange having him on the passenger seat, but it was even stranger seeing him sitting out most of the practice. At least, he was able to try some drills in the morning.

Coach stopped the whole team before they headed out to shower. He had the schedules and matches to be held for the rearranged championship. They were facing the Binghamton Bearcats in one month, and the final match would be played two weeks after. Everyone cheers and celebrates.

In one month, they trusted Neil could play more than the five-minute top threatened by Coach. The Foxes were finally moving as a whole after the striker’s return and the Bearcats weren’t one of the Big Three, so they felt entitled to lift their hopes up, even if it was the weirdest season on the books.

With a date to look forward as the definitive end of the season, final exams on their way, and Kevin bitching to have night practices again, weeks passed in a mix of sweat and stolen kisses with Neil whenever they had a few minutes to spare. The boy shone with excitement for being able to play, and the only thing Andrew could do about it was make sure he didn’t push too hard whenever he noticed the striker limping.  

Since it was only one match and Neil asked, Andrew conceded closing the goal on his half of the match. He had seen the Bearcats previous matches, so he knew their patterns. It was easy.  

The weight of the Foxes playing or not the last match would depend then on how many points Kevin, Neil and Dan could score, and hope their number was bigger than the rest.

The ride to Binghamton was eternal and boring. Andrew certainly had a few ideas of how he could make time go faster, but not with the team that close, so he had to settle with the stories Neil told about his travels, hearing his wishes for going on a holiday someday, and his daydream that he would be able to play on finals. Then, he fell asleep on Andrew’s shoulder.

The match was brutal.  

The twin was split the whole time between staying in place deflecting shots, or run to shove out dirty players far from his lot. He kept the goal shut and their win wasn’t taken with grace, since the Foxes were the away team and certainly not anyone’s favorite despite the loads of news and gossip provided by Neil’s incident with the Ravens, but he couldn’t care less about the fans’ mood.  

Andrew’s arms were close to burnout when the final buzzer confirmed their win. The Foxes gathered in the middle of the court and celebrated as if they had earned gold at the Olympics. The blond watched from the distance, when all he wanted was a shower and pile back into the orange bus, but he had to keep an eye on Neil, and he intended to wait until after he was done in the showers to carry their equipment, as he had done every practice. The striker was perfectly capable of carry his own things by then, but helping made curious things futter in his chest, and painted a smile on his pipe dream.  

The celebrations were carried to his goal and he could only stare at Neil’s happiness.  

That was another moment to treasure.  

Finally, everyone headed out of court and started to clean up. Neil was waiting for him to finish, so they could get back to the others. The joy lighting his blue eyes was so powerful that Andrew nodded for the striker to join the rest while he got both their bags ready. Nothing would happen if Neil was out of his sight for a moment.  

The pipe dream had proved to be real.  

Andrew was almost out the locker room when he felt a pinch on his neck.  

Duffel bags were dropped as he unfurled to fight, but the liquid spreading through his blood was faster, and everything turned black before he could do anything about it.

----

A tall woman with a gargantuan red lipped smile approaches him. “Are you awake now? Revenge is not fun if you can’t hear me.” It’s the same one who knocked him with a rock, and maybe a needle too. The one on the original list of the Moriyamas that Andrew ignored.  

Lola Malcolm.

“Fuck you.” Andrew tries to stand, but his whole body is chained to the chair. His efforts send him to the floor. His hips hit instants before his head. His left arm is on fire after the impact. The sting in his scars is worse.

“So bold but so small. Can’t believe you were the one who killed our boss.”

The woman is too close and holding his face. The touch burns him worse than the pain on his head or his arms. He spits in her face. A shoe presses Andrew’s head to the floor.

The betrayal of the Moriyamas sends waves of rage through him as terror replaces it fast when realization settles.  

“Where is Neil?”

“Wait you insolent Gremlin. He hasn’t picked up again. Little boss said he was untouchable now, but he never said anything about you and Junior didn’t like it. Oh, hey, you heard that Junior?”

Static of the phone echoes in the room. There is silence on the other end for minutes.

“Fuck you.” The fear in Neil’s whisper shatters something in Andrew, but reliefs him at the same time. It doesn’t matter what they do to him as long as the pipe dream is safe.  

“Nathaniel, say hello to our special guest now that he is awake.”

"Don’t you dare fucking touching him-”

“Watch that mouth Junior. As you recall, it’s my honor to tell my victims what I’ll do, and since this was meant to be for you once Nathan got out from jail, you both get to hear.”

Andrew can’t pay attention to the things Lola mentions. The jagged screams of Neil on the other side of the phone are destroying him already.  

His promise was broken.  

Neil was unprotected and suffering.

Because Andrew was about to get chopped. That isn’t right. No one suffers for Andrew. Never.

“Are you still there Junior? I’d like to start now.”

The other end of the phone is dead.  

“Shame. We’ll get started without him then.”

Andrew struggles as two men free him from the chair and pin him to the floor with a loud crash of his skull. He is too close to the drain.  

He tries to fight them, but the massive one from before joins to keep his legs glued in place.

Romero Malcolm. Jackson Plank. Patrick DiMaccio.

Fucking list.

“Heard Junior and you like to do nasty things with each other. Such waste of tiny men. I’ll have a try anyway.”

Lola climbs on top of him. She has a knife on her hands. The tip presses on the hollow in his throat, where the collar of his shirt starts, and cuts all the way down to his waist. She rips the shirt in two and leaves his bare chest in display. 

Then, she bends down and licks Andrew’s neck. Nausea piles in his throat as the woman sucks his nipples and keeps pressing her tongue until she reaches the hem of his pants.  

The contact is revulsing, and it only gets worse as fingernails dig inside his underwear to make way between his legs. Pulling, pinching, tickling, pressing until his body betrays him.  

Like Steven, Samuel, Drake, and Proust did.

Nausea rolls from his stomach to his throat. He puts all his effort in containing a gagging sound while Lola keeps feasting on him.

Andrew fights to get rid of the weight, but he is helpless with three men strangling his limbs and tugging his hair to keep his head in place too.  

The sharpness of a blade starts on the side of his lower belly and follows all the way to his knee. Lola tears apart the ruined pants and gets free access to Andrew’s intimacy. A shiver runs from his head to his toes. He can’t do anything to cover his unprotected body. The men pinning him only look away, but they never release the strength of their hold.

The woman watches him with sickening delight before sliding down from his legs to his shins, and sucks him.  

She bites and licks and digs her long nails on Andrew’s sides until his skin breaks and bleeds.  

His stomach tries to rebel again, but he only retches. His teeth are close to breaking from how hard Andrew is clenching his jaw.

It’s an eternity before Lola gets up again, wiping her mouth with a hand.  

She leaves Andrew exposed. Trembling. Humiliated.  

Hot shots set his skin on fire everywhere Lola touched him.

“That was good indeed. But I promised other delivery, so let’s get started.”

Lola stands and disappears from Andrew’s view. His attempts to het free are useless once more.

When she returns, she climbs over him again and takes his phone from one of her pockets. While the device beeps, waiting for the other side to answer, the sound of a blowtorch makes Andrew’s nerves stand on edge.

“No one told you is unpolite to hung up, Junior?” There’s only silence on the other side. “Fine. Don’t talk. I’ll update. Your tiny boyfriend is delicious indeed. But I have to resume. See, we were planning on carving out that disgusting thing on your face. We’ll have to ruin a pretty face in your behalf. And because you are always running, we were cutting your legs tendon by tendon, but this one relies on his knives, so we are cutting his arms. Did your midget tell you that he made an exact copy of your scars on the Butcher? I’ll perfect his idea now.

“No.” The whisper on the other side is too broken to be Neil.  

“Yes. And you will get to hear his screams. Word says he lost emotions and all that. We’ll see that when he sees his fingers on the floor.”

Andrew can’t think, can’t remember, can’t move as the tip of a red-hot knife gets pressed to his left cheek and sharp nails are dug in his jaw to keep him steady.        

He was right. The good weeks had to end, but he never thought it would be like this.

At least he enjoyed all of Neil while he could and he got enough time to know it wasn’t a hallucination made up from his meds.  

Pain sears his cheek and spreads to his full face, but he doesn’t make a sound even if his teeth are cracking. He won’t make Neil hurt more.

“You know how to stay shut, don’t you? Nathaniel, have you seen the mess this one has on his arms? Of course you do. It’s time to erase them. Can’t make clean cuts with that view. I began on the way here, but it wasn’t enough.”

“No. Please.”

And that word.  

Bolts of fury fill Andrew to fight again. He is not letting Neil fall into the same trap the twin fell when he was seven.  

The man on his left is slightly smaller than the one on his right. Despite the pain, he puts all his might into getting free. It hurts dislocating his joints to get free, but not more than hearing Neil’s strangled pry.  

If he is dying today, he doesn’t want Neil to hear.  

And if he will hear anyway, let it be the sounds of Andrew putting a fight to get back. As Neil did.

He swings a closed fist to Lola and sends her to the floor before his arm is trapped again with a jolts of agony.

“Enough talking.” Says the woman cleaning the blood dripping from her nose. She is holding the fucking blowtorch again.  

Andrew braces for the pain but it’s not enough. The horrors he had faced are nothing alike.  

Lola pins first his left arm with the same knife she used to burn his face and gives the halt to the man over to hold it in place. Then she gets the blowtorch to the scars and new cuts of his right arm.  

Fire scorches his skin slowly. He watches in slow motion as his marred scars start changing color. Swelling. Blistering. Bleeding.

He scrambles and twists to get away from the fire, but the knife pinned in place is dividing his other arm in two with every move he can manage below the fierce grips.

A feral growl escapes his throat and Lola laughs as she moves the torch up. The knife held by the man on his left has made a hole in his arm. He can’t feel his fingers anymore.

A scream bursts free against his will when the blade is taken out and stabs his burned arm.  

He doesn’t want Neil hearing this. It will break whatever defense survived Evermore.

Another scream is finding its way out as the blowtorch now works over the open wound, cauterizing the cut and erasing his scars. He can’t feel his burned arm being torn apart with the knife.  

Andrew can’t notice immediately when the weight in his left arm is gone, but he can see the shock in Lola’s face as she lets the torch fall and stands to fight.

All around is pain and confusion.  

A real hallucination from the pain. Maybe he is already death. This is impossible.    

Because there is no way that Neil is standing around his body, bloodied knives in both hands, slashing and cutting everything in his way, making bodies fall and fight and free Andrew’s limbs.

He can swear there is also a strike of rainbow moving at flash speed behind Neil. Clearing the path. Getting rid of the people torturing him.

“Andrew? Andrew?"

The voice speaking is too far, too wrecked to be real.  

Andrew is too shocked to understand. He hadn’t been so afraid, so sore, so useless in so, so long. He finally loses control of his stomach and everything comes out, but there is no relief afterwards. The pain and the sickness go on and forces him to retch again until there is nothing left.

There is a cling close to him.  

He wants the world to disappear beneath him. Die if he hasn’t. Pass out at least.

He can’t tell when he curled on his side and covered his head with his battered arms.

He is shaking. His head is throbbing. His arms sting. He is mostly naked. He is cold. His belly hurts from the effort.      

Neil heard him. Neil is watching him like this. Again.

“Andrew? You’re bleeding, we need to stop it.” The voice outside is too hurt, but sounds real. “Andrew?”

“No.” The answer comes between shattered sobs.  

A part of Andrew that is still aware of the surroundings knows he is the one crying, but he is uncapable of doing anything else.  

He promised to protect Neil and he failed.

He failed to his promise like everyone else does.

All because he thought he wouldn’t have enough time left with Neil.  

Because he thought the Moriyamas would finish their part of the job faster.

“Don’t touch him.” The jagged voice turns fierce before being soft again. “Andrew, we need to get you out of here.”

He doesn’t move.  

It takes ages before he can acknowledge that the shattered voice belongs to Neil.  

He can’t face him after failing a promise. He has failed him twice.  

That is unforgivable. That makes him a monster indeed. The monster everyone believes him to be.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t get faster. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you like I promised. I’m sorry it wasn’t me. I-”

Andrew uncovers his face only an inch. His arms hurt too much, but he needs to see if Neil is indeed there, apologizing for a promise that was never his to keep. Hurting only because Andrew was hurt.

He was sure that no one gave a fuck about what happened to him, until he heard his name spoken with utter fear for him, not because of him.

“You are a pipe dream.” He manages to say with cracked voice.

“Fuck you I’m not. I’m real. You made me real.” There’s a pause before he goes on. “And I can’t lose you. Not like this.”  

Neil’s eyes are a few shades darker and glassy as he lowers a hand and places it extended, close to Andrew’s arms, but not touching. Never touching. Only waiting.

“Let’s go home. Yes or no?”

It takes minutes or maybe hours for Andrew to find enough courage inside of him to realize that Neil’s apologies were sincere and he still wants him.  

Maimed, useless and humiliated, he’s still accepted.

He was forgiven for breaking the promise between them even before he pointed his failure.

The hand extended is still by his side. Asking. Expecting. Ready.

Neil is feeling guilty for the consequences of Andrew’s miscalculated actions. The striker didn’t choose his criminal family, but Andrew chose to get rid of them. The guilt and consequences should be only his. Neil should be away from this, enjoying his free life. Not extending his hand to pick the pieces of a wrecked a monster like him.

And yet, he doesn’t have it in him to let go. No when he is so terrified for the first time.

With trembling fingers, Andrew takes the offered hand and holds it as hard as he can with his numb fingers.  

It is as warm and real as the last time.

“Yes.”

#tw: torture #tw: injury #tw: noncon #aftg #aftg fic #aftg fanfic #aftg fandom #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #andrew x neil #bamf!neil #the foxhole court #the kings men #the raven king #canon divergence #canon divergent au #mid-canon #someone stop me from writing

[mayaminamoto]

Longing for ancient worlds

I’ve been a fan of Assassin’s Creed series for many years now. I replayed early games many many times, I own several collector’s editions and I’ll forever be angsty that I missed Evie Frye statue and now it costs like, 200$ minimum. Unity put a temporary stop to all that (it took me TWO YEARS to finish the main story, it was such a slog) and I didn’t check any of the later games until now.

Earlier this year Irian (my wife!) and I visited Rome - and that of course meant I had to replay the whole Ezio trilogy (let me just say that seeing Colloseum in real life after climbing it in game is AMAZING). Riding on the nostalgia, I decided to finally give the new games a chance. I loved every freakin’ second of Syndicate. It had almost everything I wanted from Assassin’s Creed game - it had great parkour, it had beautiful world, decent anchoring to history, great main characters... I honestly think it’s the most polished AC game there is.

Then I picked up Origins. You know, that game when they saw how horrendously big fail Unity was and decided to “tweak the formula”. It was fun, though it felt much less assassin-y then all the previous games. And now I’m playing Odyssey and to be perfectly honest, with each day I’m more frustrated with it. No, perhaps frustrated isn’t the right word. Sad. It makes me sad.

Because it’s no longer Assassin’s Creed.

It hit me the most when I was exploring Ruined Sanctuary of Ajax. Do you remember it, I wonder? I won’t fault you if you don’t. Because you see, as I stood there with my trusty torch, watching the frescos I realised that I’ve already seen them. In another tomb earlier in the game.

Now, I’m not saying that re-using assets in a video game is a bad thing - quite to the contrary, I’m one of those small number of people who didn’t mind copy-pasted caves in Dragon Age 2. The problem is that DA2 didn’t try to sell me the idea of “vast realistic world”. In previous AC games the world was always as close to reality as humanly possible - and the game took every advantage of it. Main story missions often took place in or around famous historical buildings. Small (and hated by many) collectibles often took the player to some hidden gems. Missions were designed in a way that both showcased the architecture and was interesting to play. Meanwhile, almost every mission in Odyssey takes place in almost identical forts or camps.

Maybe let me explain things more clearly. When you first get dumped on the map, you can see two kinds of markers on it - quest markers and question marks. Question marks indicate locations - if you get close enough to one, they will change to reflect exactly what kind of location it is. It can be fort, bandit camp, animal den, village, tomb... There’s so many possibilities!

The first problem is that when you look closer at said possibilities, you see that there’s not as many as it seems. Because let’s be honest for a second - the difference between “military camp” “camp” “fort” “port” and often also “ruins” is minimal - to “complete” location you always have to loot a chest and possibly kill someone. They differ in size and kind of enemies (bandits, cultists, Spartans or Athenians - all fight the same btw) and in some flavor aesthetics... But still, each and every one of them is build from the same blocks. When you compare fort to fort, camp to camp, there’s no way to really differentiate them, nothing memorable to stand out.

I could let it pass with military structures, treat it as a filler activity and nothing more. But the same kind of design applies to potentially super interesting historical structures, all those temples, fucking Acropolis! I can tell that the building itself is very carefully designed to fit the real thing as closely as possible - but when I get to it, all I can do there is still old same “kill a dude, loot a chest”. Absolutely no gameplay variation and a huge missed opportunity to showcase the setting.

“But Mai!” you say “they ARE filler activities! They don’t have to be flawlessly designed! They’re just here for grind and loot”. Sure. But many MISSIONS are connected to these filler activities as well. I get a mission to rescue someone from bandits - I go to the bandit camp and “complete” the bandit camp... I get the mission to find a thing, guess what, it’s in that fort over there... And secondly, I’d like to remind you, let’s say, races in Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood. You know, those that took you in a mad dash through great historical buildings, showing them to you in a cool fashion, while also giving some unique gameplay, different from the rest of the game. Those were also filler activities after all.

And this “same-y” feeling goes further and further - main quests involves killing a whole bunch of cultists - from gameplay perspective they are no different than a “normal” Person-To-Kill from filler camp. While I dig the “each dead cultist leaves a clue about another” thing, the killing itself doesn’t feel like a part of main mission at all.

There are other things too. The whole gameplay shifted from “stealthy parkour assassin” to “warrior with occassional stealth”. Assassinations got seriously nerfed, there’s lots of enemies you simply can’t one-shot assassinate, as in all previous games. While previously, if you got into combat it often meant some sort of fuck-up on your part, here it’s much more expected - after all, if you stab a guy in the back and he DOESN’T die, it’s kinda understandable that he’s gonna want to fight you. The same-y location design doesn’t help here either - because if all locations are similar, then stealthing into them is similar too and, well, it gets boring. It’s a huge shift from the previous games, one that annoys me very much.

Parkour, one of the most if not THE most defining features of the series, got seriously dumbed down. No longer you have to carefully choose which way up to take, find a decent start-up point, move a bit left to catch a brick there, move a bit right to stand on a gargoyle... Now the path between point A and B is almost always straight line. You can climb almost anywhere, with no issue, by simply pushing a button. Now, parkour never was very hard in these games, sure - but you had to find the path to the top. You had to pay some attention. Many hidden locations where designed specifically for fun parkour experience, for figuring out the best way to the top. You don’t have to find the path now. You just press “forward”.

And all this has an impact on the character too. Because you know, if the game shows me location on a map, I’m gonna want to complete said location. Oh, it’s an Athenian military camp, cool. I have to kill the camp captain and loot some chests. Meanwhile, in the main mission, I’m in the middle of doing some favors for Athenian leader, including completing some Spartan camps... Basically, if I want to complete the map (and I do), I have to be an immoral murder thief hobo. Kill whoever, steal from camps, temples, homes, be loyal to no one and nothing... It feels wrong.

Don’t get me wrong, the game has some very good points. It is beautiful. Combat is quite fun. Kassandra is funny and hot as hell. Story so far is quite interesting (if sometimes cringy). But it all feels so... game-y. Wherever I look, I see that it’s an artificial setting, I see the building blocks. Long way from much smaller, yet so much more alive streets of Florence or Istanbul.

That tomb I talked about at the beginning. It could have been amazing. It could have been a parkour sequence, where you really have to find the way to a secret chamber. It could hide a piece of intel about the cult you’re fighting. It could be filled with enemies that you have to carefully avoid by climbing high over their heads, holding to the heads of columns between each part of a fresco. Instead you get in, you kill some cobras (fucking cobras), you rob the tomb, probably desecrate some corpses in the meantime and touch a mystical tablet from ancient times without a single comment about it. A message appears on the screen saying “location complete”. You get a skill point. You never forget that you’re playing a game.

#assassin's creed odyssey #assassin's creed #Mai plays games #this is a rant #sorry

[pellicano-sanguino]

I was recently made aware of the fact that there's a freaking Dragonlance musical (yes, made all the way back in 2014, I'm late on the news). It's uploaded to Youtube in full (according to them, it's uploaded with the permission of the creators) and with subtitles (it's a Russian production).

I went in expecting it to be just as badly made and cringeworthy as the animated movie, and I was motivated to watch it purely by nostalgic feelings about the books (they were the first fantasy books I read) and general interest in musical theater. But turns out I...   actually liked it??? Not in a so-bad-it's-good kind of way, I genuinely found it enjoyable. What an unexpected turn of events.

Heh. Quality subtitles.

Disclaimer: It's been ages since read the books, so if I remember something wrong, feel free to correct me.

Now, this is not the next Phantom or Elisabeth or anything like that. This seems to be a rather small production. The props and effect are minimalistic and cheap, looking more like a bunch of larpers than actors (not saying larpers can't have great props, I used to larp myself when I was younger). The singing carries the story, there is very little spoken dialogue and the actors don't dance. We do get a bunch of background dancers, who at first seem really out of place crawling on the floor while the main actors just stand there and sing.

I'm also going to point out that the Dragonlance books are not the easiest or most obvious choice for a story to be adapted into a musical. These books have long, complicated plots that often arch over several books and have a whole bunch of characters. Also, being able to open the vast world and history of Krynn to an audience who may not have read a single book is challenging. Not gonna lie, I am unsure how much someone without any prior knowledge of the series will get out of this show. They do plot explaining surprisingly well but there are plenty of times where you're going to be a bit confused if you don't know the backstory.

The musical's name is The Last Trial, and it's (somewhat loosely) based on the Legends-series, describing the rise and fall of the dark wizard Raistlin Majere, who is probably the most popular Dragonlance character ever. Well, it's a wise choice, since you can tell this story with a slightly smaller cast and don't have to prop dragons. However, I question one thing. You're really going to make a musical about Raistlin? One of his trademark characteristics is his failing health, his violent, chronic cough, resulting in a creepy, raspy voice. And this is the guy you're gonna make sing.

More quality subtitles.

Oh yeah, and another thing I'm going to have to question. Are we really making this a love story? I mean, yeah, I get that all that happens between Raistlin and Crysania does also happen in the books, but I never saw any kind of romance between them. All I saw was a heartless bastard manipulating the feelings of a sensitive and naive woman. The impression I got of Raistlin from the books was a person who's asexual, aromantic and hates everyone (and who's not handsome by any standards, but rather creepy looking, especially his eyes). Not a romantic hero at all. But hey, I can kinda understand the appeal (after all, I do like such musicals as Phantom and Elisabeth, so I can totally see why a cruel and cold character gets all the fangirls; everybody likes bad boys).

The musical opens with a short introduction of this story's Greek Choir-character, Astinus. Astinus is tasked with recording the history of Krynn so he makes a good plot exposition role. I recall there being some hints that he might not be fully mortal. After the intro, stage lights reveal a violin player, who begins to play the musical's theme. The violin player stands out a little, since she's wearing modern clothes despite the story being set in a medieval-ish world. But I got to admit, the music is very, very nice, with a rather calm melody that fits the setting of a magical world of fantasy very well. This could easily be soundtrack for a fantasy movie. The beautiful music is what made me like this show.

Speaking of music, it's time for the main character to deliver the show's first song. Despite rolling my eyes at the thought of Raistlin singing with his ruined voice earlier, I have to admit, they chose the actor really well. There are at least two castings (maybe even more) of this show, and the one I saw, had Evgeny Ergorov playing Raistlin. His voice is very pleasant to listen and it carries hints of ambition, arrogance and of a powerful will that is calm and calculating but under its seeming calmness also very dangerous. I am surprised how quickly I accepted the fact that Raistlin can sing and that instead of having a voice that mirrors his suffering he has a voice that mirrors his might. The lyrics being in Russian helps, being sung in a language I don't speak a word of makes everything sound more magical and poetic. There is certain lyrical beauty to Russian and it fits the songs perfectly (obviously, since the songs were written to be sang in this language).

If we handwave the fact that Evgeny is way too pretty to be playing Raistlin (I'm presuming he's not that bad looking by het standards here, as a lesbian I'm not really the person to be judging male beauty), he looks the part and gets nicely into character. He has Raistlin's prematurely grayed hair, black robes and the staff with a glowing gem held by dragon claws. The musical goes out of its way to disrobe him, though, probably as a fanservice thing (robes really don't let you see his body well...). In the books I don't recall him ever wearing anything else, the mages in Dragonlance wore their robes everywhere like uniforms. Oh well, if wizards can prance around in muggle clothes in the Harry Potter movies, we can do the same here.

Evgeny has a rather strong stage presence. His eyes, while not as creepy as in the books, cast a very cold and powerful gaze, judging everything with distaste and cynicism but never underestimating anything in his arrogance. This Raistlin is full of pride but not blinded or hindered by it. The only trademark part of his character that I consider to be missing is his failing physical health, that creates an opposite to his powerful mind and allows him to manipulate people by using the compassion they feel when seeing a sick, suffering man. Many more prideful men would be insulted when offered help and proclaim that they can take care of themself, but Raistlin never does this; he relies on the help of others whenever it's convenient and never considers such a thing to be below the world's greatest wizard.

Astinus appears again and explains the next song number to the audience. In the war preceding the events in this show, Raistlin fought with a bunch of other heroes to defeat a dark dragon goddess called Takhisis, the primordial source of evil in the Dragonlance pantheon of gods. According to the musical, Raistlin's role was to work as a double agent – he swore an oath to Takhisis and became her servant only to stab her in the back so she could be sealed away in Abyss.  It's been ages since I read the books, so I can't tell if this is how it really went. My faint memories claim it wasn't quite like that, but this is what the musical tells us so let's just go with it. Takhisis, the highest ranking of all the evil gods, is trapped in Abyss, but she still plots her escape and bears grudge to Raistlin. She can't enter the world of mortals in the waking world, but she can appear in their dreams.

Like evil, Takhisis takes many faces aside from her iconic multiheaded dragon queen form. She invades Raistlin's dreams in the form of the Dark Lady and torments him with nightmares and ominous predictions that he'll one day be her servant again and open the gate of her prison. In this version, Takhisis is played by Vera Zoodena. And wow. Just...  wow.

Her Dark Majesty can easily be interpreted as a kinda succubus-like, sexy and seductive femme fatale (because god forbid we have evil female characters who aren't overly sexualized...). This kind of role is very easy to overdo and instead of intimidating and charismatic turn out to be just... cheesy and slutty. But Vera Zoodena knows that a revealing outfit and sexy posing isn't all you need for a powerful female villain. Yes, she is very much directed as seductive, but instead of making me feel like someone made her wear that costume and ordered her to pose like that, I feel that she is in complete control of everything. Vera's stage presence is amazing. Femme fatales rarely have any effect on me (well, they are usually geared towards a male audience anyway) but this Takhisis makes chills run down my spine when she sings. Her voice is so haunting and sexy, I can feel her fingers tipped with deadly claws menacingly caress my skin by just listening to it. (I'm sorry. I promise to keep the TMI to a minimum. But I'm totally hot and bothered for Takhisis.).

Raistlin's nightmares are interrupted by his twinbrother Caramon, who intuitively knows his brother is suffering and rushes to wake him up. Raistlin thanks Caramon for driving away the unwanted dreams, but remains distant. Caramon then begins to sing, advising Raistlin to give up his ambitious plan, which he now reveals to the audience; Raistlin intends to descend into Abyss and challenge Takhisis, ascending to godhood himself if he manages to defeat the goddess. We have fought our wars, says Caramon, the Dark Lady is safely locked away in Abyss and the world needs heroes no more. Well, that's easy for you to say, you're not the one getting your dreams invaded.

Let's talk about Caramon a little. He is supposed to be the opposite of his twin; physically strong but mentally not the brightest, a handsome fellow with a big heart that overflows with kindness towards his friends and family. No ambition, no selfish arrogance guiding his actions, all he longs for is a simple, comfortable life and he cares deeply about the wellbeing of his loved ones. Compare that to Raistlin, who cares not about the feelings of others, uses people as stepping stones to reach his own selfish goals and in his pride desires always more power; when he has become the most powerful wizard in the mortal world even that is not enough, he needs to challenge the gods.

While I do think the actors in this musical do a pretty decent job mostly, I have to say I'm a little disappointed in Andrei Loboshov playing Caramon. His acting is a bit wooden occasionally and he comes off as comically dumb sometimes (I mean yeah, Caramon wasn't the sharpest sword in the weapon rack but still). Also his voice is kinda mediocre compared to others. This is Caramon, he is supposed to be charming and lovable. And handsome. Again, I know I'm not the right person to judge male beauty, but compare this guy to the one playing Raistlin (who is supposed to be the ugly twin). Like, come on.

Raistlin refuses Caramon's offer of simple living. He points out that as a creepy weirdo he will never belong anywhere and will never be as accepted by others like someone normal like Caramon is. He is determined to seek godhood, and abandons his brother's company while making plans how to reach his ambitious goal. He receives a letter that informs him that a priestess of Paladine (the highest ranking of the good gods, adversary of Takhisis) called Crysania seeks to meet him. Fate seems to smile upon the dark wizard, for a priestess of Paladine is exactly what he needs for his plan...

So. Crysania. I have...  mixed feelings about this character. On one hand, I admire the sincerety of her character, her genuine kindness (she is the priestess of the greatest of the good gods after all) and her determination to attempt to do the right thing. And yet she is doomed to betray her god out of her love for a heartless man. Stories about a pure maiden who falls in love with a cursed prince are numerous and the appeal of such stories is clear. However, Beauty and the Beast this is not. My main problem with Crysania is this: I fucking feel bad for what happens to her! She is dumb and naive and thoroughly amai and a very good example of what happens when a woman tries to ”cure” or ”save” a cruel man. It's not even her own fault because Raistlin manipulates the fuck out of her (and even if it were purely because of her own stupidity, victim blaming is bullshit so there!). I just want to rush in there and swoop her in my arms and give Raistlin the middlefinger like NO, you do not deserve the love of this woman, you do not get to use her for your ridiculous ego-inflating power fantasy plans, farewell and up yours!

When I read the books, I imagined Crysania looking unearthily beautiful, like a Greek statue come to life, and having an aura of holiness and piety in her voice. Here she is played by Elena Minina and damn, she is amazing. I don't know how they managed to find someone who so much resembles the official artwork of the character. I find her beauty stunning (just my opinion, there are probably a ton of people who consider her mediocre) and her voice is incredible. It's so clear, like the singing of birds and the sounds of running water on a stream, like silver bells tied to a dancer's ankle. I don't know how to describe it. I know nothing of opera or other top quality singing but I could easily imagine Elena being a truly professional singer. And this is really what made me fall in love with this show; the songs and the amazing singers delivering them.

Raistlin and Crysania meet in the city of Palanthas and have a little talk. Crysania reveals to the black mage that her god Paladine is aware of his plans and does not approve. She attempts to convince him to abandon his plan, not just for the good of mankind and the cosmic balance (the proper balance of good and evil is very important in Dragonlance pantheon) but for his own sake. Repent before it's too late and save yourself! Knowing that this is a chess piece he very much needs, Raistlin immediately goes into manipulation mode and starts to suggest things to Crysania. Oh, you came to me just as a messenger of your god? What if I told you he sent you to me for different reasons – to help me. He proceeds to flatter Crysania, praising her faith and purity (maybe to suggest that someone like her couldn't commit anything unholy, and thus can help him without fear of angering her god) and plants the idea to her head that light and dark mages aren't so black and white, and that sometimes dark magic is necessary to reach a noble cause.

Crysania listens and admits that Raistlin makes many good points but still she advises him to give up his plan. At this moment Raistlin has a coughing fit (the only time we see the fragility of his body in the musical) and Crysania's heart is immediately melted by compassion and she offers her help (as a priestess of Paladine she has healing powers). Raistlin accepts her healing magic but refuses her plea to bring him to the temple to be treated properly there, since even Paladine's clerics can't cure the curse that ruined his body. But appealing to her compassion works for his advantage, as did letting her get close and touch him (it's like he knows she's going to fall in love with him and attempts to bond with her to make it happen.). He insists on leaving but invites Crysania to meet him at the Tower of High Sorcery if she wants to speak with him more. Once she's alone, Crysania sings about how she understands that her fate is tied to this mysterious man who she used to think of as an enemy but is fast growing more fond and respecting of. She feels sorry for him and wants to save him so badly. Let the fire burn my hands, I will endure it or die trying. Meanwhile, I'm here whispering ”don't do it” under my breath. This is a very pretty song.

Astinus steps once more on stage. Crysania asks him how does Raistlin think he can break open the gate of Abyss. Astinus reveals that the gates of Abyss were locked so that they could only be opened by a black mage and a light priest working together (which the gods thought would be unthinkable, apparently, since that would be bringing together two sworn enemies). Crysania understands now what Raistlin had in mind for her. So, he thinks I'm going to be his key. Despite knowing this, she still wants to see him to learn more and asks how to find her way to the Tower of High Sorcery. Astinus tells her that the road there goes through the Grove of the Dead, making it a very perilous journey. Crysania considers this a test of courage set upon her by Raistlin and declares that she will go there.

Next we visit a charming little place called the Inn of the Last Home. The inn is run by Tika, Caramon's wife and she merrily spends time with the customers who sing and dance the night away. Tika is played by Irina Kruglova and it's a shame she has such a small role, since she has a lovely voice.

Back during the war Tika was one of the heroes and fought just as well as everyone else, but now has settled down since just like Caramon she longed for a peaceful, adventure-free life.

When I saw this character, I got worried. It looks like it might be a kender. Good grief, the goddamn kender are the worst thing Dragonlance universe came up with. * shudders* Back in my larp days there was a universally known unwritten rule among gamemasters: no more than one kender per ten other characters. Everyone obeyed this rule and good for them. I never got to play one, but a friend of mine did. She crawled under the tables and stole everyone's shoelaces.  

The joyful tune is disturbed when Crysania comes in and asks if anyone can show her to the Grove of the Dead. Tika tries to convince her not to seek the Grove, explaining that wizards enchanted the forest so that non-magic users couldn't find a way to their tower.

The guests agree with Tika, no one knows what the Grove hides, for the Grove never returns its dead. Crysania is still determined, if no one comes to be her guide, she goes alone. The guests and Tika then come up with an idea to have Caramon go along to keep her safe. No one else dares to go there, but Caramon is a true war hero.

Unfortunately this is the exact moment Caramon enters the inn, drunk as a lord and holding a letter he wrote to Raistlin. Look, Raistlin sent my letter back unopened, and even wrote on top of it ”I have no brother.” The separation of the twins was hard for Caramon and he started to drink his depression away, becoming less like a hero and more like pathetic drunk every day. He sings a sad, drunken, wailing song about how this letter hurt him so deeply.

They are stealing his axe - they are kender! Out! Throw them out!

Crysania rolls eyes at such a guardian, baffled that the intelligent and well mannered Raistlin could have such a disgraceful twin and she goes forth on her own. Tika then shames Caramon for being such a wreck and giving everything up so easily like the opposite of Rick Astley and sends him after the priestess. Your brother messed with her head, now it's your job to get her back safely! Reluctantly Caramon goes, not thrilled to be back on the adventuring business.

The background dancers felt out of place earlier, but in the Grove of the Dead they fit in perfectly, creating an ominous atmosphere. These living shadows creep up to Crysania, who faces them without fear and sends them back with the power of faith. She's prevented from proceeding any further when she comes face to face with an undead warrior named Lord Soth.

In the books, the death knight was sent to assassinate Crysania by Raistlin's sister Kitiara, to prevent the opening of the gates of Abyss. Lord Soth failed in his attempt, Crysania didn't die but she was wounded. Kitiara doesn't appear in this musical, and we don't actually see Lord Soth wounding Crysania. Instead he just poses dramatically and seems to scare Crysania and Caramon from approaching the Tower. He and the rest of the shadows are sent away by Raistlin, who appears to sing a new song.

The song is all about how names have power. It's a very fitting song for a mage, but kinda out of place. I guess it implies that by the power of knowing the name and origin of the creatures of the Grove he can send them away and allow the travellers to reach the Tower. But it looks like he's singing it to Crysania, which makes no sense. Also, what is he doing there? He should be far gone by now, time travelling to the past (yes, this story involves time travelling, a kind of magic that I've always thought way too powerful to exist, since if you have the power to go back in time, wouldn't you be able to keep trying a thing over and over again until you reach a timeline where you're successful? Way too convenient for my taste in magic.).

In the Tower of High Sorcery the Conclave of Mages is holding a meeting re: what to do with Raistlin. There are the white robed light mages and the black robed dark mages, but where are the neutral red ones? Balance of power is important in Dragonlance lore, and besides the forces of good and evil there existed the middle path that was kinda allowed to do whatever they wanted because they held loyalty to neither side. They could have easily put some red mages in the background here, so I wonder why they didn't (local prop department only had white and black robes?).

The conclave calls forth Dalamar, an elf who was spying Raistlin for the Conclave while being his apprentice in dark sorcery. Dalamar reveals all that he knows of Raistlin's plans; that his teacher has time travelled to the city of Istar to look for the gate to Abyss and to learn from another dark wizard who lived there at the time. By doing so Raistlin has apparently broken some union laws the Conclave held and they are disgusted with this (I told you time travelling should be banned!). But then they decide to send Crysania back in time to Istar too, for whatever reason. In the book it was because she was injured and needed a level of healing only the clerics of Paladine back in Istar's days of greatness could offer. But here it's a bit unclear, since we don't see Crysania get wounded and the Conclave never mentions any reasons behind their decision to send her time travelling. Maybe they were just as naive as her and thought she could stop him. Crysania tells them she intends to prevent Raistlin from opening the gates of Abyss and they just...   seem to go with it.

Dalamar and Par-Salian (leader of the Conclave) high five at their decision. Classy wizards are these.

One nice detail they kept are Dalamar's scars. You can see them on his chest. Raistlin wasn't born yesterday, he knew damn well that Dalamar was spying him and to show him that he knows, he burned the elf's chest with his fingertips like branding a calf. Just so you know, I'm on to your scheme and could dispose of you any time I want, I just don't think of you as a threat and don't care if the Conclave finds out because they won't be able to stop me. In the books Dalamar had a bizarre habit of flashing his scars to people. Look at what he did to me! No, stop, put your robes back on, nobody wants to see that, you kinky biscuit!

While the background people are working on propping Istar (mainly just covering everything in white), Dalamar sings a short song that reveals that he actually sends Crysania back in time because he is loyal to his teacher. Whatever you say, Dalamar. Whatever. Anyway, we have travelled back in time to Istar now. Everything and everyone is white and shiny and full of faith. Crysania is awestuck at the beauty of the city and the grandness of faith. Istar is a theocratic city state, and we also meet the guy who runs the city, known as the Kingpriest.

Good god, Alexi Tolstorkorov who plays the Kingpriest has the perfect voice for the role. It's a powerful, booming and majestic voice, making him sound like a charismatic cult leader when he preaches his truth. His voice demands respect and acknowledgment of his authority. Alexi is also rather tall, which makes him look properly intimidating. And considering they probably didn't have much of a budget, they propped him rather decently. Very good Kingpriest, 10/10.

Kingpriest. Dude. You’re saying that to a blind person!

Crysania finds Raistlin among the crowd (disguised as a cleric, because he's smart enough not to prance around in his black robes here) and informs him that Caramon got sent back with her as well but they got separated in the crowd. Raistlin didn't expect his brother to join Crysania in her attempt to stop him, but accepts this new turn of events and is already figuring out how to use it to his advantage. Raistlin tells her that he has already located the gates of Abyss here and soon they will open them together. I was expecting Crysania to tell him she has no such intentions, but here she just seems to...  be too distracted by Wow such great city! Very pure! Much faith! Which is...  awkward. Because this is fucking Istar, in the past. Crysania should know what happens to this city. Like, did they not teach history in whatever school priests of Paladine go to? Apparently they did not and it is up to Raistlin to open Crysania's eyes and reveal the ugly truth to the audience.

Raistlin sings a song about the corruption of Istar, how the priests are drunk with power and use it in manners that should be blasphemous to do in the name of good gods. Not only is magic and the worship of evil and neutral gods forbidden, some of the good gods are banned too and there's racism (I wholeheartedly cheer at the guards jailing kender, though.) and all other disgusting misuses of religion as justification for evil. The city if full of narcisstic men who put their own words in the mouth of god and present it as truth. It's interesting that Weis and Hickman came up with Istar, since Hickman is a devout mormon, so you'd think he's not the kind of person to present a theocracy as a corrupt cult. Anyway, Raistlin uses this moment to again cultivate in Crysania the belief that light and dark are not the same as good and evil. If priests of Paladine can be capable of such wickedness, then logic follows that a black mage can seek a noble cause. Maybe I'm not your enemy, aren't the ones who betrayed your god while claiming to serve him much more deserving to be your enemies? I only seek to rid the world of the source of all evil, while they seek to tear the whole world apart in their crusade against even the smallest shadow.

And then Crysania goes and confronts her fellow priests and the Kingpriest himself like the dumb shit she is, accusing them of their false faith and questioning their authority. Like good grief Crys, how fucking amai can you be?! Did you really think that one woman marching in front of a cultist leader and his brainwashed minions could make them see the light and better their ways by just shaming them? Like oh no, she is giving us the shounen anime protagonist Convincing Shouting treatment and telling us to give up our corrupt religion that benefits us greatly, whatever shall we do? Tell her she's right and that we are ashamed of ourselves for not noticing earlier? Or how about...  we just burn her at the stake for heresy?

Seriously Crysania, did you stop for two seconds to consider what could go wrong with your master plan? Anyway, it's a very nice song between Crysania and the Kingpriest. It also shows Crysania's budding doubts about her faith. She is disgusted that she had to have this revealed to her by an enemy, that her brothers and sisters who she is supposed to trust were holding an ugly secret from her.

So, Crysania is held captive at the temple for heresy. Raistlin doesn't seem particularly concerned with this. Having Crysania doubt her faith works for his plan. Caramon gets imprisoned too, after asking people if they've seen his brother, who's a mage. Use of magic being forbidden, even family members of mages get thrown in jail. There Caramon sings a song how he trusts that his brother will soon come save him. It's sad to see Caramon projecting his own family loyalty to his brother who has never helped anyone if it wasn't relevant to his interests. You poor man, still blind to the truth that your brother can't be redeemed.

In the book Caramon was made to fight in a gladiator arena with other prisoners. This musical also makes him fight, but frames it differently. Here the Kingpriest arranges the fights to find the best warrior to be the Chosen One to deliver world of evil or something along those lines. Disguised as a cleric Raistlin declares Caramon as a volunteer to fight. He is brought to the arena but refuses to pick up his sword, because it's one thing to fight in a war and for self defence but this is just slaughter for the amusement of others and he wants nothing to do with it.

I like how when Caramon refuses to fight, his opponent strikes this seductive pose. Fight me, my love, you know you want to...

The Kingpriest is not pleased for Caramon's refusal. Raistlin explains to him that the man is an honorable knight (yeah sure) who cares not for his own life but will defend the life of another. He suggests that they bring Crysania to the arena. The Kingpriest agrees to this, and Caramon immediately picks up his sword to protect the lady. The fight is fierce and has surprisingly many real swordplay techniques used (I usually expect very little realism from stage swordfights). Yes there's still lots of unreasonable things like turning your back to your enemy and coming way too close during the close combat (you come to a distance I can punch you, you will get pommel to the face) but this is still one of the best stage swordfights I've seen. It's also unusually fast, more often stage fencing uses slower, wider strikes to make it easier to follow the fight. Here, I noticed many of the techniques used only when I was taking screenshots, they happen so fast.

I didn’t even notice this block by grabbing blade at first viewing.

Oh, this looks like a throw! Are they really going to do a throw?

Apparently yes.

I have to tip my hat to the guy who plays Purple Fake Dreads here. He is agile!

He is fierce!

He is bouncy!

Fly away, Purple Fake Dreads!

I especially like the move where he places his foot on Caramon's leg and steps up on it to kick him in the groin.

Go, go, Purple Fake Dreads!

Caramon, who fought more carefully and defensively than his aggressive and impatient opponent, wins the fight, and the Kingpriest grants him and Crysania their freedom as a reward. The citizens of Istar then begin a mass with the Kingpriest, and the chanting gets more and more ominous until everything goes red. The event known as Cataclysm happens.

Angered by the corruption and arrogance of the Kingpriest, the gods threw a fiery mountain down on Istar, sinking the city to the bottom of the sea, changing the landscape and geography of Krynn permanently. Raistlin, Caramon and Crysania escape the divine wrath by time travelling again, to a timeline little after the Cataclysm. This they do offscreen.

Having witnessed the destruction of Istar, Crysania grieves for the innocent lives struck down for the crimes of a few. Her faith weakens once more. Her god doesn't answer to her call, so Raistlin asks her to follow him, which she does. After all, he is the one who showed her the truth and hasn't lied to her, and for that she respects him. She still believes that her fate is tied to the dark wizard, but she is beginning to doubt if her role ever was to help him see the light and not the other way around.

Istar being at the bottom of the sea now, Raistlin can no longer use the gates in there, much to his annoyance. However, there is a second Gate hidden in Zhaman fortress, in a well guarded dwarf kingdom. The black mage needs to find a way to get inside, and simple knowledge of history tells him how to do it.

Caramon comes to his brother, demanding to know why he betrayed him and made him fight in the arena instead of helping him escape. After listening to this for a while, Raistlin tells him that he's being an idiot; arranging for him to get chosen to fight in the arena was his plan to get him out from jail. You got yourself arrested out of stupidity, getting you to be chosen as the one to fight wasn't easy either, you know. So don't come to me claiming I didn't help you and Crysania to get your freedom so we could all escape together instead of leaving you behind to go down with the rest of Istar!

Okay, I get it, Caramon admits. But I'm still done with all of this and I'm going back home! Oh really, Raistlin comments, what a shame, I could have used your help. It hurts me to see the change in Caramon as soon as Raistlin says that, because the dumb man doesn't understand that he's just being manipulated. Caramon is so desperate for any sign of brotherly love from his twin that as soon as Raistlin hints that he could help him, he's ready to do anything. Of course I will help you in any way I can, my dear brother! You poor man, you poor faithful dog wagging your tail no matter how many times your master mistreats you.

What Raistlin has in mind for Caramon is war. Around this time in history, there was a war waged against the dwarf kingdom. Raistlin intends to make history repeat itself, and he needs Caramon to lead the army. What army, it's just the three of us, asks Caramon. And then Raistlin begins to sing, while the background dancers begin what looks like a yoga session. Raistlin is a good speaker and manipulator, he easily convinces warriors to join their attack to Zhaman fortress. Knowing history helps him, for he knows what kind of people went into this war and what their motivations were.  Little by little they gather quite an army to march into war. Caramon questions if what they are doing is the right thing and that they are lying to people to lure them into an unnecessary war. Raistlin convinces him the war is inevitable, and Caramon, too eager to please his brother, turns a blind eye to the unethicalness of it all.

While Caramon is working his hardest to earn them an entry to the gates, Raistlin focuses on working his mindgames with Crysania. He needs to get her to agree to go along with his plan. So he attempts to use her compassion, and sings to her a sad song about his childhood, colouring everything a little to make himself look more like a sympathetic victim of forces beyond his control. He claims to have began learning magic purely for self defence, being bullied as kid, and then goes on to claim that magic is an addiction that can't be fought once you've tried it. He also very clearly has become aware of Crysania falling in love with him and fans those flames as best he can, being all gentlemanly and nice to her even if he's a jerk when he's with his brother. This is one thing that people don't get about abusive people; they are perfectly capable of playing nice when it's beneficial to them and just because someone is ”such a nice guy” doesn't mean they can't be monsters.

Crysania is smart enough to call bullshit on Raistlin claiming to have always been an enemy to Takhisis, pointing out that he did fight on her side during the past war. But Raistlin pulls the ”It was all according to my plan, so I could betray her”-card out of his sleeve. I'm a traitor to both sides and both good and evil look forward to my funerals. Pity poor me who attempted to do what was right but ended up being unfairly hated by everyone. Well, Crysania buys it all, poor woman. They get closer and closer and looks like they are about to kiss...

But no kissels. Excited Caramon arrives to bring news that Zhaman has been conquered. Crysania leaves the men alone, and Caramon sings a happy song about how much glory he has gained in these battles and thanks Raistlin for making him the leader of the army, giving his life meaning and saving him from being a useless, depressed drunk.

Raistlin is initially annoyed that his alone time with Crysania was interrupted, but knowledge that he now has access to the gates he so desires to open puts him in a good mood and he joins Caramon in the victory celebrations. At some point it even looks like he...  smiles a little...   and not sarcastically. Who is this stranger and what have you done with the real Raistlin?

Now all Raistlin needs is to make sure Crysania will follow him to the gates. At night, when they are alone again he begins to sing a romantic song for her, posing sexily while he gazes at the starry sky, and she joins the song. By now she is completely and utterly in love with him and filled with joy when suggested that the feelings might be mutual.

Raistlin does an excellent job at seducing her considering he has no prior experience in romance whatsoever.  He often takes Crysania's hand while they walk but never makes any more forward moves himself, allowing her to be the one who initiates their first kiss.

Except this time too they are interrupted before the kiss can happen. This time by peeping tom Takhisis making her nightly visit to Raistlin's mind and being all Oh my, things are getting juicy in here, wait until I get my popcorn! Raistlin is startled, looks away and tells Crysania to get out. This is the first time Raistlin's behaved like that in front of her, so she's frightened that by making that first move crossed his line and angered him. She runs away, brokenhearted.

Raistlin is left alone with Takhisis, who in her turn tries to play mindgames. She suggests to Raistlin that maybe he wasn't encouraging Crysania's love just because it was convenient for his plan, maybe he too is falling in love.

Raistlin is horrified of such a thought but compliments her Dark Majesty for pointing out his weakness so he can make sure to overcome it. I made her fall in love with me, using her weakness of compassion and pity against her, surely I am above falling into my own trap! Well, regardless of how her love was born, comments Takhisis, your feelings are genuine – don't you want to keep her? Love is stronger than you are, puny mortal, it would overcome you.

Love brings no happiness, only suffering, sings Raistlin. Look at Crysania, who was so fearless, yet now is afraid, made so weak by her love. I must not return a false love, not fall for a creation of my own making. And so he fights to resists the basic human urge, the need to be loved, considering it a dangerous weakness. Without love I can't be hurt. I won't let my feelings hinder me, my brother is nothing but a sword for me and Crysania is nothing but a key. Love will break and weaken any ruler.

Nothing matters more than love, whispers Takhisis (rather uncharacteristic for the goddess of evil to spout such sappy fortune cookie aforisms). No, power is much more dear to me, answers Raistlin, but he is a complete emotional mess after fighting his feelings and can just tiredly beg for the Dark Lady to leave him alone.

Caramon, while unable to hear Takhisis, heard everything Raistlin said and his heart breaks when he finally learns that his brother doesn't love him. So it was all lies, I meant nothing to you? Or maybe I knew this all along and was lying to myself. When Caramon says he's leaving, Raistlin calls out to him, weak and exhausted after chasing Takhisis out of his mind. And even now, after hearing the truth, Caramon hesitates only a moment before coming to Raistlin's side, making sure he's alright. He even takes off his cape to cover the sleepy wizard warmly.

Kind people are unable to ignore a call for help, even when uttered by someone they know wouldn't return the favor, because for kind people there is no such thing as ”someone who doesn't deserve help.” I still want to kick Raistlin for being such a dick, though. While watching Raistlin sleep, Caramon sings a sad song about how he misses the lost happiness and innocence of their childhood.

The next song is very painful. It's Crysania basically slutshaming herself. Instead of recognizing that her broken heart is the result of Raistlin's mindfuckery, she blames herself. And more alarmingly, she makes a decision to change. By now she is as desperate for Raistlin recognizing her worth as Caramon was for any sign of brotherly love. It hurts me to see her like this, because it reminds me too much of real women who end up trying to change to better please their male lovers. This is what has become of her – the fearless lady who went forth to save a wicked man and prevent him from going through a horrible plan has turned into a blind minion of said man, willing to do whatever he wants. Raistlin has corrupted Crysania, broken her in an incredibly vile way. Instead of leaving the cruel man, she is finally convinced to aid him in opening the gates to Abyss. In her despair to be deemed worthy, Crysania decides to do the one thing Raistlin has always been asking of her, even if that means going against her god's will. At one point in the song it looks like she's talking to Paladine (kinda looking skyward) and saying something along the lines of ”I expect you to condemn what I'm about to do.” And so she betrayed her god and went down to Abyss for the sake of love.

Into the Abyss they go, singing a triumphant song together. They went with music forth to battle, not knowing what horrors lie beyond the gates. Crysania is made fearless by her faith, but not the faith she had for her god but her faith in Raistlin's might, sincerely believing it to be powerful enough to defeat a great goddess. Raistlin is made fearless by his trust in himself.

Not too long after passing the gates, they are welcomed by her Dark Majesty herself. Takhisis is aware of Raistlin's plan to kill her, but she pretends not to know. She congratulates Raistlin for opening the gates for her like a good little minion and offers him a place at the foot of her throne. Either she is being sarcastic, or she is attempting to avoid the fight with intimidation tactics, allowing Raistlin a peaceful way out if he chickens now that he is actually face to face with a powerful goddess.

Look at those four women standing beside her Dark Majesty. I didn't get it at the first viewing, but look at them; different colours, wearing a crown decorated with dragon horns – they are the rest of her five necks! The iconic fiveheaded dragon queen form does appear in the musical, cleverly interpreted!

Intimidation tactic seems to be working, Raistlin looks hesitant for a while, but Crysania turns his head so he can't see the Dark Lady and instead looks her in the eyes and this seems to break the fear instilled in Raistlin after so many nightmares. Time for mindgames and backstabbing is over, Raistlin steps up and voices his intentions loud and clear, challenging the goddess of evil.

This is the first time we see Takhisis express anger, now that all pretense has been thrown to the wind. You can almost see her breathe fire as she gives the INSOLENT MORTAL I WILL BREAK YOU IN HALF!-speech. She then summons her minions to fight for her. Including some weird glowstick-lightsaber wielding guys. They didn't have the budget to prop actual horrors from beyond, so they got creative. I think Takhisis should have summoned a bunch of her evil dragons. No matter how incredibly powerful your wizard is, if a flock of red dragons appears, he is toast. Delicious magical toast.

In the next song Takhisis sings about how great her powers are, with a big emphasis on the fact that she can take countless forms. One great way they show this is the actress playing Crysania also joining the song as clearly a Crysania-shaped incarnation of the Dark Lady. She has been tormenting Raistlin with nightmares and goes to work with his fears and darker memories again. It is fascinating that Crysania seems to be one of the things he fears, but that is probably because of his fear of falling in love and therefore becoming vulnerable.

You know, seeing Takhisis and Crysania together and hearing their beautiful voices simultaneously, makes me want to ship them. I know it's a ridiculous crackpairing, Crysania would deem it blasphemous and Takhisis would be like ”She's not as good as Mina.” But hey, if Crysania is ready to betray her god, why not go all out and fall in love with her god's literal rival? Like how deliciously angsty would that get? I'm sorry, this is stupid. Actually, no, I'm not sorry. Because you know what, I can't go to any show's fandom without seeing a fuckton of male/male ships of characters who hate each other in canon/are sworn enemies, so I should not have to be ashamed for blushing at the thought of femslashing Crys and Taksu. The ship may be full of holes but I will sail it!

More random minions. The background dancers just really, really wanted to show off their cool fedoras and scarves, no matter how unfit they are in a fantasy setting.

The next foe Raistlin faces is a succubus. She unfortunately lacks the charisma of Vera Zoodena and comes off as trying too much. I'm sorry, but whatever she's trying, it just doesn't work. Raistlin seems nervous though, and shouts to her ”Don't touch me!” Oh, the bookworm nerd doesn't like me, eh, says the succubus, I'll just pick his brother then. And she goes to snuggle with Caramon's doppelganger. This is a rather interesting scene, because there's a book that tells about the twins' childhood and apparently there was an incident where a girl initially showed intered towards little Raistlin and got his hopes up and then crushed them by deciding to go for the handsome twin instead. So, yeah, Raistlin has brother issues, and of course Takhisis uses them against him.

Time for more childhood trauma. Takhisis summons the images of the kids who bullied Raistlin when he was little. As someone who still occasionally has nightmares of my own bullies, I have to admit I feel sorry for him here. The cruelty of children can wound a person very deeply. The creatures make Raistlin retreat, tearing open wounds he thought had scarred permanently long ago. Anxious and unable to fight his fears, Raistlin falls on his knees and, much like in his childhood, instinctively cries Caramon for help. But his brother is not here to protect him, to chase away the bullies and watch over his sleep so he can wake him up from nightmares.

Now that Takhisis has Raistlin exhausted and crawling on the ground, she appears to him in the disguise of his mother. She calls for Raistlin, and the wizard reacts to the familiar voice, rushing towards her but stopping midway when he finally gets a grip of reality, that these are all shadows summoned by Takhisis and nothing more. Once Takhisis realizes her game is discovered, she drops the pretense and appears as herself, casting her dark spells on Raistlin, pulling him closer. Eventually all of his strength is consumed and he collapses, fallen victim to the Dark Lady's power.

Crysania to the rescue! Having been separated from Raistlin in the darkness of the Abyss, she finally finds him and immediately puts her healing powers to work. Takhisis tells her she is too late, death has claimed the wizard. I will not give him to you, Crysania exclaims, continuing to revive the man she loves. If needed, she is willing to give her own life in exchange of his. Takhisis speaks to Crysania, telling her that even she feels sorry for her, but a flame always leaves its mark. And then, just as life is returning Raistlin's body, the Dark Lady blinds Crysania's eyes.

And now we get to the most painful scene in the show. Blinded Crysania seeks Raistlin's hand and tells him that they have defeated darkness (What?! How? When? The last I checked, Takhisis seemed to be alive and well. I don't get it.). My eyes can see light no more and I am wounded, but your path to godhood is open now. And then Raistlin answers...  that I don't need you anymore. I...  I...  fuck...  Crysania begs him to stay with her, to hold her hand. She was ready to give her life for you! All she wants is for you to hold her hand! I don't cry often when reading books but I remember sobbing all the way through this horrible ending.

Singing arrogantly, Raistlin leaves Crysania behind, blind and wounded, all alone in the darkness of the Abyss. I did what was necessary to reach my goal. The gates were sealed cleverly but with the help of a fool's love I opened them. I don't need you anymore. The price of love in exchange of becoming a god is not too high.

Takhisis speaks to Crysania again, and it's clear now that when she said earlier that she feels sorry for Crysania, it wasn't because of her grief over Raistlin's death, but because she wasn't aware of being used.

Taksu, please, can you not. (Why is everyone in this musical such a dick to blind people?)

Crysania sings a sad song about the senselessness of cruelty and my heart breaks for her. After devoting her life to a man who abandoned her to die alone in the dark, the inside of her chest is pitch black and a void deeper than Abyss where her heart used to be. A final song of grief echoes among the shadows. The Dark Lady's minions dance with Crysania, surprisingly calmly considering they are creatures of evil. Even Takhisis herself holds her in her arms for a while (please kiss her. I know you're not the goddess of death but please. Just kiss her.). Eventually she collapses at the foot of her Dark Majesty's throne and ends her song. The only thing I can do is close my eyes before this void and wait for someone to push. And that's the image we leave Crysania with. A betrayed, blind woman standing on a cliff's edge, waiting for the moment she has to fall down.

Astinus appears again and tells what happened next. Raistlin went on to challenge all of the gods until he was the only one left. However, he did not possess the gods' ability to create. In his war against the gods he had left the mortal world in ruin, and now as the only god of Krynn, he could not repair it. The mortal world had become as desolate, dark and lifeless as the Abyss.

Now, in the books this is not what happens. It's what could happen, but Raistlin gets shown this grim future and that scares him to finally give up his ambitious plan. However he had already opened the gates and entered Abyss, so he chose to remain there and prevent Takhisis from coming through the gates until they had been properly closed behind him. Some versions of the musical also apparently have this ending. However, I prefer this one, where Raistlin reaches that future and has to for all eternity bear the heavy burden of being the one who brought forward the end of the world, all alone in the darkness, the only remaining witness to the devastating results of his actions. I think an ending where we allow him the chance to correct his errors and sacrifice his life nobly for the sake of preventing Takhisis from entering Krynn, is cheaper and doesn't give proper emphasis on the fact that actions have consequenses and often, even in stories involving time travel, once you've made a mistake, you cannot undo it! I prefer stories with the moral ”Don't do this, once you do it there's no going back” than ”Don't do this but if you do, there's always a second chance if you're ready to make some sacrifices.” I know this is fantasy, but in real life, there often aren't second chances. You can only break a fragile thing once. You can only lose someone's trust once.

We get one final song, Lord of Nothing, and it's a great song number. For whatever reason Takhisis sings it with Raistlin, despite the fact that she should be long since defeated in this timeline. Maybe she will forever live on in Raistlin's mind, a fragment of his imagination formed from the memory of nightmares. I don't know, but I don't even care, Vera Zoodena has such a great voice that she can raise Takhisis from the dead any time she wants.

One reason I love this song is that it's basically the Dark Lady vigorously rubbing salt on Raistlin's wounds. Yeah, you wanted this, you wanted this so bad, well look at your kingdom now, oh great Lord of Nothing! As she sings the background dancers gradually take away all of the props, including Raistlin's staff and his robes and then disappear offstage, leaving him standing there alone on the empty stage. It is very satisfying to hear Raistlin sing in anxious manner, desperately trying to lie to himself that he can still fix this, oh please don't let me be left alone in the void. The last one to leave is Astinus. He gives Raistlin his quill and scroll of history before disappearing.

I liked this show and was amazed how nicely it adapted the original material. It's very different to the kind of musical theater I usually watch (Takarazuka). But even a smaller production, with a very small prop budget and actors who sing well but don't dance at all, can be as entertaining as a big, colourful spectacle.

There's been some translating projects going on. Maybe some day there might be an English version done.

#dragonlance #the last trial

[caseopening-blog]

The War on Made Use Of Gamings

As we plan for the coming wave of future generation systems, we need to be expecting renovations on all the good ideas we connect with the existing crop of systems. Moving on, we anticipate: much better graphics, faster CPUs, more appealing games, you get the idea. 

Not everything that we're preparing for will be a progressive activity for pc gaming. A minimum of, as for Sony and also Microsoft are concerned, you can swing farewell to playing utilized games on their systems. 

Although these are simply rumors at this point, it wouldn't be surprising if they came to fulfillment. It's possible, specifically when taking into account that numerous game authors have already discharged chance ats the used video game market.

Most noteworthy is Electronic Arts(EA), who became the first publisher to set up the method of billing gamers, that bought made use of video games, a fee to access codes that feature the game. 

To clarify, Downloadable Content(DLC) codes are included with new copies of a particular video game and just with those codes, can that web content be accessed. 

EA increased its job to include playing used games online. Players would certainly currently have to pay $10, along with the price of the used game that they purchased, to have accessibility to the on the internet elements of their video game. 

Ubisoft has given that followed suit, requiring an on the internet masquerade its video games too. You can determine the games which require an on the internet pass as they are the "Uplay Passport," logo design on the box.

 Ubisoft determined they would certainly take things an action additionally and carry out Digital Rights Management, a method more often associated with DVD or CD anti-piracy initiatives. 

Assassins Creed 2 was the first video game to be impacted by this practice. To play the PC variation of Assassins Creed 2 gamers are called for to create an account with Ubisoft and also continue to be logged right into that account to play the game. That implies that if you shed your net link, the game will instantly pause as well as attempt to improve the connection. 

If you're unfavorable adequate to be unable to reconnect the net you'll have to continue from your last conserved video game; shedding any development; you may have made because after that. 

That will certainly be the case for every one of Ubisoft's COMPUTER titles, despite one having fun single-player or multi-player. While Digital Rights Management has been used to battle DVD and CD piracy for fairly time currently, this will note the very first time it been made use of for a video game. 

Due to Ubisoft's application of DRM, Matthew Humphries of Geek.com, warns that it's viable that at some point also gaming console games will certainly require on-line enrollment play them.

 According to Denis Dyack, the head of Silicon Knights, the sale of utilized video games is cannibalizing the earnings of the primary video game market. 

He also declares that the made use of the video game market is somehow causing the cost of new video games to rise. There are also reports that the X-Box 720 will certainly accept the exclusive usage of digital downloads as well as not make use of disks at all.

 One might argue that Sony has currently laid the ground help stopping utilized video games from working on their future system. 

At the minimum, they've already made fairly an initiative to make used video games substantially less preferable. Kath Brice, of Games industry.biz, reported that the most up to date SOCOM game for PSP, SOCOM: U.S. Navy SEALs Fireteam Bravo 3, will certainly call for customers that purchase a utilized copy to pay an enhancement $20 bucks to get a code for online play.

 I would certainly like to see some measurable proof to sustain the case that made use of video games are in reality, hurting the sales of brand-new video games at all. 

Correct me if I'm incorrect however you haven't heard Infinity Ward grumbling concerning the made use of the game market as well as it affecting their bottom line. 

Possibly the problem isn't that used video games have an unfavorable impact on the sale of new games but, the trouble is rather that game developer require to make far better video games that gamers are willing to pay full rate for.

 In my point of view, not every game is worth $60 simply because it's the recommended retail price. Looking at points fairly not every game is produced similarly. As a result, not every video game is deserving of costing $60.

 I think that the War on Used Games is nothing more than a money grab by developers, distressed that they're unable to capitalize a very financially rewarding market. 

To put it in bucks and also cents, in 2009 Game Stop reported almost 2.5 million dollars in income from the sale of utilized gaming consoles as well as utilized games. And also not one red cent of that profit gets to the pockets of game authors. 

Greed as the encouraging factor for the statement of War on Used Games is transparent. Especially when you think about that when Game Stop began separating their profits from brand-new video games as well as used video games in their economic declarations, EA after that instituted their 10 dollar cost for utilized video games.

 The development in the 2nd version of the video game, which allows you to disembowel your opponents, is sufficient of a uniqueness that I 'd like to play via it at some point. I can acquire it currently, utilized, for regarding ten bucks. My point is that video game designers are not losing cash cause of used video games; you can not miss out on loan you weren't going to receive anyhow.

 Unless you have a significant quantity of non reusable earnings and a significant amount of leisure time, you're possibly like me, and also you focus on which games you prepare to purchase and also how much you're eager to pay for them. 

You determine which video games are should riches and which video games you 'd such as to play yet agree to await a rate decline before getting them. Then there are the video games which you're interested in, but they tend to fail the cracks because they're not all that high up on your radar as well as you'll maybe select them up a number of months later, or even years after their release, if you ever before picking them up in all.

 I find it ironic that the impending death of the used game market can likely mean the death of Game Stop that, ironically, push their customers to brand-new pre-order games and also acquire them at full price. 

One would think that game authors would be appreciative regarding this service as well as not dislike Game Stop and also treat utilized video games with such refuse. Pre orders not only help advertise their video games; however, they work as a forecast of possible sales too. 

Also Dave Their a contributor for Forbes Online, that explains Game Stop as, "a parasitical bloodsucker that does not do much besides mark up discs and being in the shopping mall," acknowledges the folly of passing the problem of the utilized game market onto the customer.

 I've just as soon as pre-ordered a game myself. At the wish of J. Agamemnon, I pre-ordered Battlefield 3, which is paradoxically a residential or commercial property of EA. 

I paid full cost for this game and more than happy to do so. In big part, since I was given access to several weapons as well as maps that I would have had to wait to download had I not pre-ordered it. I suggest that instead of penalizing players for wanting to save their difficult-earned cash, the pc gaming industry requires to find out to incentivize players into intending to bet to that 60 dollar price.

 I labeled this write-up The War on Used Games in an initiative to be jokingly and poke enjoyable at how whenever the government proclaims battle on medications or horror or whatever it might be, they only succeed in intensifying the problem. 

If the gaming sector does indeed go down this path; they'll only harm themselves in the long run, fall short to share in the profits they so greedily fancy as well as worst of all, hurt their consumers, that keep the gaming industry abreast with currency.

 It's extremely paradoxical and also in fact very fitting that it's EA that is heading the effort to assault the used video game market when they are one of the biggest beneficiaries of made use of games. 

Chips world MD Don Mc Cabe informed Games Industry.biz that EA has what he referred to as a "franchise business software application home" in that they "update their titles; FIFA, Madden; all of these are effectively the same title updated each year. Shutting down the utilized video games market efficiently ruins a tried and real technique in which followers of EA's franchises maintain updated with each of EA's annual releases.

 Don McCabe, an exec at Chipsworld, discusses that "customers won't flourish under this new system, as duplicates of the game will certainly shed their resale value.

That implies that ultimately it will be the publisher who ends up shedding money because when merchants readjust their prices to show the rise in price for made use of games, the resale worth of the game will go down and also brand-new games are much less most likely to be purchased.

 I'm a follower of numerous EA franchises; I appreciate Ubisoft's Assassin's Creed, and also I'm a resist Sony PlayStation enthusiast. As their client, I'm annoyed and also upset by their current methods. I am afraid wherefore future techniques they may utilize to more suppressor perhaps kill the utilized video game market. 

That claimed, I'm confident that these firms will certainly be responsive to the outcry of their clients and also abide by our wants. I beg them to stop punishing their customers for catching what they regard as missed revenues. 

They take the chance of not just alienating their customers however, they run the risk of discovering themselves with significantly fewer clients and also significantly fewer earnings. As well as at the end of the day, that's the lower line.

[monstersdownthepath]

Spiritual Spotlight: The Lantern King

Chaotic Neutral Eldest of Laughter, Mischief, and Transformation

Domains: Chaos, Charm, Madness, Trickery Subdomains: Deception, Love, Lust, Thievery

The First World: Realm of the Fey, pg. 24~25

Obedience: Light a lantern and spend at least 1 hour telling it either a joke (or multiple jokes), or a story of a prank on someone (or multiple stories, if need be). The jokes/stories must be different each time. Benefit: Gain a +4 Sacred bonus on saving throws versus illusions.

If the Chaotic Neutral prankster types ever needed a patron deity that adored and rewarded their enraging antics, look no further. Telling a different story every single day is a bit of a difficult task, especially if your character doesn’t want to infuriate the party day after day in order to have fuel for their tales, but I’ve seen enough lengthy textposts in my time to know it’s very possible for someone to stretch a joke for an entire hour (or at least 30 minutes, so you can fit another one in there too). It doesn’t even have to be a particularly good joke, either, it just has to be funny to someone. Still, though, a DM may want to “sample the fare” themselves and ask to be told a joke, and if it’s not funny, they may have the Lantern King revoke the benefits and Boons until a good one is finally told.

All I can say is that please pick the short jokes to throw at the DM and not the long-winded 30 minute versions. That being said, if your session isn’t roleplay heavy, this Obedience is as easy to complete as “I told him about a prank I pulled on [X].” In a more roleplay heavy session, you can get some serious mileage out of knowing that the King doesn’t just need to hear the prank itself; you can tell him why this victim has ‘earned’ your mischief, You can weave an hour-long tale describing how that baker from The Last Town drew a target on their own head and the steps you took to assure your gag would go off without a hitch, as well as lavishly describing the reactions of everyone at the store the next day when eating the bread the baker made after you switched their sugar out for salt. You can also describe how you rigging the Big Bad’s belt to fall down in the middle of their monologue allowed the party to get the upper hand over them and win the fight. Stuff like this is what the King lives for, and what you’ll quickly start living for, too, if you want to keep your Boons.

The benefit is also... It’s not spectacular, but a DM usually gets more mileage out of illusions (since they set the scene) than a player (who has to verbalize that they’re using illusions), making it a fair buff in the hands of the player.      

Note that the Eldest do not possess the average Evangelist/Exalted/Sentinel spread, and use the Feysworn Prestige Class. The Feysworn Prestige Class can be entered at level 6; if taken as early as possible, you get the Boons at character level 8, 11, and 14 instead of 12, 16, and 20.

Boon 1: Prankster’s Touch. Gain Disguise Self 3/day, Hideous Laughter 2/day, or Suggestion 1/day.

If you ever begin running out of pranks to pull on others, here’s three handy spells that make them easier than ever! Disguise Self is handy for having a lengthy and embarrassing conversation with the victim’s partner and leaving them to deal with the fallout of a conversation they never had, while Hideous Laughter can utterly ruin a serious meeting by making a stuck-up snob suddenly start laughing hysterically.

Suggestion is a decent spell for roleplaying, but the Lantern King may find it a little cheap to just force someone to go along with your pranks instead of you cleverly manipulating events yourself. For combat uses, Hideous Laughter is a decent enough Save or Suck with the added benefit of making someone look absolutely ridiculous as they drop everything they’re doing and laugh like a maniac. Disguise Self doesn’t have much use in combat, but outside of combat at 3/day, it makes for a great espionage spell. Even having it forcibly dispelled won’t do much; you can still cast it 3/day, after all! And I don’t even have to go into everything you can do with the Suggestion spell, because at its least useful it’s Diplomacy-In-A-Can, and at its most useful it’s a way to get a puppet not aware they’re being strung along for a few hours. The fact it’s a spell-like ability also removes the need for components, allowing you to sneak Suggestion onto someone without visibly doing anything (not even the tried and true “Can I make a Suggestion?” line), significantly improving its usefulness even under the scrutiny of onlookers and eavesdroppers.

Boon 2: Transform Others. You can cast Polymorph Any Object once per day as a spell-like ability.

Hoo boy. Hoooooo boy. HOOO boy. Alright, so lets get something out of the way really quick: This is level 8 magic being handed to someone at level 11, a full five levels before Wizards get their first level 8 spell, and it’s a hell of a spell, at that! Polymorph Any Object can be used to utterly and completely crunch even the most difficult encounter, because used uncreatively it’s Baleful Polymorph or Flesh to Stone for a painful Save Or Suck effect. Used creatively? You’ll note, perhaps on the spell page itself, that doing something like turning a pebble into a siege weapon, a castle wall into pudding, the floor into lava, or a cloud above your enemy into an anvil are all possible, and no matter how wacky you make the transformation the minimum duration is always 20 minutes. You can do a LOT in 20 minutes with the breathing room you just made by turning an enemy’s horse into a bed of nails, or their massive battle wagon into a very confused but likely hostile brown bear.

At level 11, you can either affect one creature, or one nonmagical object up to 1100 cubic feet in size, and it goes up by another 100 cubic feet per level. I do have to burst a few bubbles (my own included) by admitting that 100 cubic feet all folded up into an actual cube forms a box five feet wide and four feet tall (though you can fudge the numbers a bit so it all rounds up to a 5x5x5 cube, the basic space of a Medium creature), but as it turns out, a continuous stone floor is rarely more than a foot thick, letting the spell effect spread wide. On bare ground, it’s up to your DM whether or not topsoil counts as “one object,” but for the sake and safety of the game world the answer is probably going to be ‘no.’ A fun DM would say yes, though. Just saying. Just saying!

The once-a-day limitation isn’t much of a limitation if you’re creative enough, and the fact targeted creatures get a saving throw doesn’t matter if you never target a creature with it. Polymorph Any Object is a spell that rewards thinking outside the box, though perhaps a DM not willing to put up with the shenanigans it can cause (such as permanently transforming your allies into monsters with powerful abilities) may nerf it to just be Polymorph or its Greater version...

Boon 3: Anyone and Anything. You can cast Shapechange once per day as a spell-like ability.

... Which does exactly nothing to stop all the nonsense you can pull with Shapechange, You get Shapechange three levels before the casters do, and at its base it lasts 140 minutes--plenty of time to mop up an encounter as well as the fallout afterwords. You can freely change whatever form you’re in once per round as a free action, basically throwing open an enormous toolbox the size of which quite frankly boggles my mind. Paizo did wonders nerfing the Polymorph subschool while still keeping it fun, but it’s still one of the most powerful and flexible spell lines in the game... And Shapechange is at the apex of the Polymorph spell line, capable of imitating the effects of SIX other spells with a significantly longer duration and the ability to switch between all six of them at will.

Shift into a form too small for an enemy to hit for a round, giving yourself enough time to recuperate before changing into a dragon and unleashing a devastating breath weapon! Change into a massive giant and hurl boulders before suddenly shifting down into an Elemental that quickly dodges incoming attacks! Change into a beast immune to whatever energy attacks are coming your way! Change into a Fire Elemental to set the world ablaze! Change into a Green Dragon to spray the countryside with acid before assuming the guise of a child to avoid retaliation!

Or, hell, just change into one of your more vulnerable allies so a clever enemy thinks they’re getting the drop on a squishy caster, when in fact you’re more than equipped to handle the assassin and any allies they may have brought.

Maintaining your devotion to the Lantern King may be difficult, and may earn you the ire of more than a handful of people, some of which may be your own allies... but just think of what you could do with the ability to be Anyone Or Anything... Think of the power! Think of the PRANKS! It’s what the Laughing Lie would want! You could spin so many stories for him! 

You can read more about him here.

#Spiritual Spotlight #Neutrality Notes #Pathfinder #dungeons and dragons

[hollandbliss]

the spy who loved me. / harrison osterfield.

word count: 1,439 pairing: spy!harrison x spy!reader.  warnings: none?  summary: in an usual late night working, you come across harrison who decides to make things a lot harder for you. a/n: i love james bond so damn much and then i thought what a perfect thing to write for my first harrison thingey. i totally got a lot of inspiration from dr. no! and this is one of my favorite things i’ve ever written. 

masterlist. 

you thanked the doorman as he opened up the door for you to enter the casino. the room was filled with people dressed to the nines. some people at the casino table and some hogging the bar for new drinks. 

for a moment you took a glance around the room before going over to the booth to exchange some money for tokens. as you walked you noticed peoples curious eyes on your body. your floor length red dress that you had was sure a number. 

but with a fancy dress code you did what you had to. you got your tokens and slid them into your little envelope bag that you carried in one hand. again your eyes scanned the room. the casino was lit up with soft lights and the decorated in warm tones of red and brown. and a band was playing soft music in the back of the room, really setting the tone of the casino. 

you were there for work but your eyes were fixated on the casino tables. the game being played didn’t matter, the important thing was rather who was playing. you raised your eyebrow as you found the table you were looking for, where a game of baccarat chemin de fer was playing. you preferred your blackjack but it was close enough.

with your heals clicking against the floor, you started walking to sit down by the table. you greeted the dealer and sat down to the left of an older gentleman. “any luck at this table tonight?” you asked him with a charming smile, showing off your pearly whites.

the male turned to look at you seemingly pleased with the sight of you. “well i sure have had some.” he replied as he held out a hand out for you to shake. “robert downey jr. and you are?” you took his hand and shook it with a smile.

“y/n y/l/n.” you answered politely. “is it your first time here miss y/l/n?” you let go off his hand as you gave him a soft nod. “first time.” your conversation was cut short as the dealer had mixed the decks and were ready for a new round to be played. but before you could start the game, another player sat down.

you took your eyes off mister downey as you looked at the stranger. you looked through your long lashes and saw a very attractive man. a blonde dressed up in a nice armani suit. you could tell because you knew your brands. and a casino like this expected their crowd to have deep pockets. he had a confident smile on his lips as he unbuttoned his suit jacket as he sat down on the other side of the table. he looked like trouble.

and it was clear in how he played. you hated losing even though you were there for other activities. but you wouldn’t quit, even though the handsome stranger kept on winning. it had been a couple of rounds and both you and mister downey had lost a lot of money. as a round ended you waved to the waiter, wanting to do another withdrawal to keep on playing. 

“i admire your courage miss...?” the stranger asked as you were scribbling down your signature for the waiter to get your new tokens. “y/l/n. y/n y/l/n.” you replied as you finally looked up at him. the first words you’ve heard from the stranger. in between your rounds you had been occupied with carrying on conversations with mister downey. 

“i admire your luck mister...?” you said as you repeated his words. the stranger smiled as he heard the edge in your voice. he could tell that he was ruining your plans for the game. 

“osterfield, harrison osterfield.” you exhaled slowly as you placed a strand of hair behind your ear. “so mister osterfield? would you mind if we raised the limit?” a little smirk found the corners of your lips as you looked into his eyes. his answer would tell if he was really up to gamble or not.

you could see that the thought was going through his head to process. “no objection from me.” he said as he smiled back. because what fun would gambling be without the risk?

the round went on and you looked down on your cards, did the you or the bank have the closest number to 9? it was your turn and either you passed and would let mister osterfield make the gamble.

you took a last look at your cards before making up your mind. “banco.” the confident in your voice was visible. even though it was a pure gamble, you did everything with confidence. you picked up your cards and flipped them upside down for everyone to see. and the dealer did the same with the cards belonging to the bank. and your smile only widened when you saw that you had won, meaning you had doubled your money.

“that’s enough for me tonight.” you told the dealer as you collected your tokens. again you turned to mister downey. “thank you for the lovely company. enjoy the rest of your night.” in a swift movement you stood up, taking your tokens and walking towards the exchange booth again. 

you didn’t notice but mister osterfield had also tapped out and was quick on his feet to catch up with you. “too bad you had to leave just when things were getting interesting.” he said to you, still with that confident smile on his lips. you knew guys like him, they were crawling with people like him in the club. good looking fellas with a lot of money in the bank, which they weren’t afraid to spend. 

“i guess you have to know when to stop.” you said nonchalantly to him as he walked by your side. "oh agreed. you gamble and when you get what you want and you walked away. that’s the game.” in the way he spoke you got the sense that he was talking about something else but you decided to not say anything else.

just as you were about to step up to the exchange booth you felt him grab you by the arm, pulling you backwards slightly. but you knew better than to make a scene. everyone in the casino was a crook in some shape or form.

you looked up at him with an intense look as he started speaking. “like the thing you took from your good company, mister downey.” your face quickly turned stern. you were good at your job. even though everyone saw you and your beautiful exterior, you hid in plain sight. you had many clients which you retrieved items for in events like these.

“give me the usb drive and you can walk away happily what that money you got your hands on.” he whispered into your ear and you swallowed harshly. most times you only knew the minimum. the client told you what kind of object they wanted and who to get it from and you did it. but this was different. without it, you knew you had to pay for it. the client wouldn’t be happy.

“you have no idea what you’re dealing with.” you said with a serious voice, even though harrison still had that smugness. and with your words you didn’t necessarily mean yourself. rather the one you were working for. but your words didn’t seem to scare him off in the slightest. 

without making a scene he took your bag from your and you knew that doing anything now would only make things worse. he took the drive, and hooked his arm with yours to lead you to the booth. “the girl wants to exchange these.” harrison said politely as he took the tokens from your bags and put them down on the counter. the banker took the tokens and moved away to collect the money for you. “it’s been a pleasure, maybe we’ll see each other again miss y/l/n. but then you have to remind me to not play cards with you.” 

he gave you your bag back and you watched him walk away. how could he annoy you and turn you on at the same times? you took your money and then reached for your phone in your bag.

quickly going through the contacts you found who you were looking for, a contact named x. and quickly you typed up a reply that said, ‘compromised.’ and then you hit send. mister osterfield was right, this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you meant. but next time it would end up a whole different way. 

please let me know what you thought of this! and thanks for reading it.

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield au #harrison osterfield smut

[brownsprivateservices02]

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