#god I wish they could do a whole campaign I would watch that back and fourth

[theoldkyokodied]

Aaaaand more very quick stream doodles. This one shot was so fun to watch, it’s so sad that it had to end already. But oh well, let’s not dwell on that and let’s enjoy the good time we had, like disguised tiefling gale being both Karlachs and astarions type, wyll and gale having a spa day, bing bong in general (rip king, you will be missed), and of course the 8 strength fight for magic items <3 thanks to the cast for the chaos, I enjoyed it thoroughly

[fieldsofwriting]

How do you think the love interests would react to an accidental love confession from the farmer? Like during a Friday night they just BLURT it out in front of everyone?

Anon, I answered this ask in full almost. And then Tumblr crashed on my computer and I lost it ALL. I am foaming at the mouth. I can't remember all of what was written so pls enjoy these two I could actively remember but let me know if you want more!

Ryis:

The last thing that anyone at the Inn had expected was to be so involved with the D&D campaign that happened at the table by the door. Truly, it hadn't been on the docket to basically watch it unfold for the entirety of Winter but where the Farmer was involved the whole town loved to watch them.

Eiland sat as the DM, then Balor the rouge, Ryis the Druid, Brad the Bearded Bard made his return with his daughter- Brightclaw at his side. And you, the fighter. Currently the store was at the climax of it all- with the spring air just looming around the corner it was almost time to switch off on someone else's campaign. But as you and the rest of your party entered the lair of the big bad you'd been hunting the last thing you were expecting was for Ryis to fall.

The party had, for lack of a better word, gotten thier asses handed to them. Brightclaw was knocked out on the ground, Brad the Bearded Bard was trying to help her get back up. Balor was knocked down, but still valiantly trying to get back up. And Ryis. Ryis in his final act had given the last of his health to get Balor back up. He had tried not to focus on the way your eyes watered and you pleaded with him out of character to not do it. But as Balor gets up and manages to get the final blow in an Epic victory, Eiland starts to narrate again.

"Ryis, as you take your final breaths, is there anything you wish to say?" He asks giving his friend a smile.

You rapidly flip through your spells and items trying to stop this- you couldn't- even if it was fake you couldn't loose Ryis like this. As your eyes land on one of your spells you gasp, slamming your hands on the table as you stand. "I cast Summon Deity!"

Eiland blinks, looking to Ryis who gives a nod to let you do this. "Which deity do you wish to summon then?"

"The God of Death!" You say frantically. "I want to plead with him to save Ryis." Eiland gives you a nod to continue. Taking a deep breath, you nod. "Dear God of Death please spare my party member."

Eiland raises an eyebrow, "And why should I?" He asks you.

"Because! Ryis doesn't deserve his end here! He can not die here! This isn't how it was supposed to be! Ryis is kind, selfless, compassionate! He likes to have ice coffee every Saturday! He thinks that watching the birds fly and sing is cool! He likes to make birdhouses and put them all over Mistria! His fate shouldn't be dying here- even then! He gave the last of his health to help defeat evil. Is that not admirable? Is that not thing you should reward?" You plead.

Eiland smirks, knowing exactly what he was doing. "You sound as if you're in love with him."

"I am!" You rush, "I love him so much, and I can not bear to be without him. Please!" Eiland grins raising a hand.

"Your request is granted." He nods, looking over Ryis. And then it hits you. You just admitted that you were in love with him. In front of everyone. While playing D&D of all places. Ryis joins you in standing from across the table.

"As I feel my life coming back to me, I reach out my hand and take y/n's. Looking into her eyes, I say that I love you too." The Inn erupts into cheers causing you and Ryis to startle before breaking out into laughter.

"Hear that Joise! You owe me twenty Ters!"

Celine:

Friday night at the Inn were also fun. And they were especially fun when all of the younger single townsfolk gathered together to drink. It wasn't often that it happened but every now and again it was something you would all sit at the bar and do- it often left Hemlock very entertained.

But now, as you all sat and started chatting you were sharing the worse pick up lines that you had ever heard. Giggling at how awful they were with each other. "Ugh! We once had a guy where who did that dumb 'is your dad a baker? Cause you've got nice buns pun to me." Reina says with an eyeroll as she tips her head back to drink. The rest of the girls groan in unison.

"Shouldn't the line be about your mother? Considering she was the one who was pregnant?" Adeline says with a frown and crease in her brow. Celine pats her shoulder.

"Don't think about it too hard." She smiles, "And as much as that sucks. I do wish I had at least one of those stories." She sighs, "No one has said something like that to me." Celine frowns a little, her pout adorably cute.

"Wait- you've never been hit on?" You asks with a gasp. "That just seems like a crime." Your friends go a little quiet as they process what you had just said, but in your slightly tipsy state you continued to blabber on. "I mean, seriously. You're like the cutest person ever. I can give you a good pick up line-" You lean over, wrapping an arm around her chair. Not realizing the way that her face flushes as she watches you intensely. "Are you a rose? Because you're making my heart bloom."

Sighing, Orlic gets up. "Okay c'mon Y/N lets get you home." He smiles as he helps you, "Hemlock's orders."

In the morning, you wake up with a raging headache and a...banging in your head? Getting up to see the sunlight shining in you blink as you realize the banging isn't just in your head. Hopping out of bed to open the door, Celine stands there with a bright red blush looking anywhere but you. "H-hello y/n...uhm...do you remember last night?"

Opening the door more you nod, silently offering for her to come inside. "Of course I do. Why? Should I not?" You ask with a raised eyebrow as you go to make some coffee.

"W-well you hit on me." She stammers out.

"That is what people who have crushes tend to do with the person they have a crush on, do." You smirk.

She stands there before blinking rapidly. "I- you-" She lets out a sigh as she rushes over and wraps her arms around you. "I like you too." She breathes. Letting out a quiet laugh you hold her tightly. Happy that it has turned out for the best.

A/N: I can definitely do the others- but like I said Tumblr crashed and I wanna throw hands. But anyways, I hope you enjoyed!!

[laundrybiscuits]

(wait for the season to come back to me tag)

“We still on for dinner this Thursday, or are you gonna reschedule again? Because I swear to god, Steve, I will break into your apartment and set up camp if I have to. It’s been years. Centuries.”

“It’s been a month, Henderson.”

“I barely remember who you are anymore. What’s your name again? How do I know you? We’re actually very happy with our current cable provider, thanks.”

God, that kid is such an asshole. Steve loves the shit out of him.

“Listen, I’ll see you on Thursday and explain everything, okay? Actually, uh—I’m kinda calling to give you a heads-up. Got some big news, so you should, like…brace yourself.”

Dustin’s quiet for a long, worrying moment.

“Steve. You have got to know that that’s the least helpful thing you could possibly say. You’re not even gonna give me a hint, man?”

“Wish I could. It’s not a bad thing, okay? Just big. Like…Upside Down big.”

“Okay, for my own peace of mind, I’m going to pretend you’re completely overreacting about the fact that you, like, got a dog or something.”

“I’m not—”

“Peace of mind, Steve! See you Thursday at my place! Don’t cancel or I’ll kill you!”

Steve’s left laughing into the dial tone. Honestly, he’d mostly called so Dustin couldn’t complain afterwards about not getting an advance warning. There’s just no way to hint at the whole Eddie thing without Eddie being present and accounted for; it would be the worst kind of cruel.

Steve can’t imagine what he’d have done to anyone who tried to tell him Eddie was alive without any kind of proof. It wouldn’t have been good.

“So we’re telling Henderson on Thursday?” Eddie jostles Steve’s shoulder. Steve thinks he’s been doing that a lot more lately.

“Seems like,” says Steve.

———

They take the train to Dustin’s place in Wilmette as soon as it gets dark out. Eddie’s bundled up in a nondescript hoodie and one of Steve’s denim jackets, looking like every other Chicagoan braced against the cool evening air.

They haven’t been going out all that much. Robin keeps asking if Eddie wants to do any tourist stuff, maybe the museums or something, but he always shrugs off the offers. Steve would’ve maybe expected him to want to get out and explore, now that he’s not cooped up anymore, but Eddie mostly seems to want to sleep, read, and watch TV.

Robin’s been on a campaign to educate Eddie about the ten years of pop culture he missed. “It’s essential for rehabilitation,” she says. Steve is pretty sure it’s just an excuse to make them rewatch all of Robin’s favorite movies, because some of the stuff she brings home was definitely already out in 1986.

Eddie draws the line at letting Robin show him music, though: “Nope, nuh-uh, no freaking way. I wouldn’t have listened to that shimmery synth shit if I’d been alive and free every single day of the last decade, and I’m not gonna listen to it now.”

Steve does have a few metal cassettes, but he feels weird about bringing them out. It feels like he’s crossing a line, somehow—admitting to something. So instead, they’d all traipsed over to the Tower Records a few blocks over, and let Eddie roam around sampling things.

To Steve’s surprise, Eddie hadn’t actually picked up that many metal albums. He'd grabbed the new Accept and some Alice in Chains, sure, but he also picked up Nirvana and Soundgarden. He had gotten into a conversation with a very helpful clerk that ended with the clerk scribbling a number on a business card and handing it over with a grin and a promise to make Eddie try some local act called Wilco next time.

Obviously Steve’s happy that Eddie’s making friends and charming people. He’s legitimately fucking thrilled that other people are finally seeing how great Eddie is, because Eddie deserves that. Eddie deserves the world, and if he wants to date some random clerk, he should get to.

It’s just that if Eddie Munson comes back from the dead to start dating some random clerk, Steve is going to have to go live at the bottom of Lake Michigan. That’s all.

[katurdayss]

Rings of Power live-blogging, LETS GO! (below the cut to avoid spoilers)

Just finished watching Ep1. There were some interesting parts, but it was… a little rushed? The writing had solutions just magically appear. I don’t know why 8 episodes seems to be the episode count for streaming seasons now but I dearly miss the days of 22 episode seasons. Tolkien is so damn long because his writing took breathing room ( sometimes too much). Wish the showrunners would keep that in mind.

Just as an aside, in the days of streaming do we really need this long of a recap? You know, the old adage of show rather than exposition. Just saying.

Think it could have been cool to do a cold open on Sauron/Halbrand’s face and then have a cut/ morph into other Sauron’s face. Would hype up his shapeshifting abilities from the get go.

Well that was brutal. Sauron is not great at campaigning obviously.

Also why does Sauron need to be crowned by Adar/the orcs. He’s a dark lord, the second to Morgoth. Just go in and BE A DARK LORD. Take that crown and slaughter anyone who says differently. Don’t gotta campaign for it, it’s not a democracy.

Et tu Brute? Real Caesar vibes.

Well that’s kinda revolting. The black squiggly thing not the bug eating.

Guess they needed a bigger boat.

Hot damn. Horse chase.

Oh. Damn. Really Galadriel? Also they’re like children fighting in front of dad.

OBVIOUS call back to Elronds mother there and interestingly casting Galadriel in the role that the Feanorians played.

Really hope the stranger is a blue wizard. It would be really lazy writing to make him Gandalf.

Why would you wear a METAL MASK IN THE DESERT?

ANOTHER obvious call back to Sam and Frodo. lazy writing.

There’s a good dogo. Bad good dogo? Good bad dogo?

Looks like a Nordic fishing village

BEN DANIELS

Check every warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse, and doghouse! (Tommy Lee jones? The fugitive? No? I’ll see myself out)

Elrond operating from a whole bunch of family trauma right now.

Lazy writing. Well more like clumsy writing.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CAN WE GET SOME PROPER LIGHTING FOR NIGHT SCENES. can’t see shit.

Well something wanted Cirdan to change his mind.

I know they don’t know this but probs best to NOT antagonize Sauron.

Can Elrond just leave? Like isn’t he under arrest?

Oh Celebrimbor. Sigh.

[schumaclerc]

am sowwy for disrespecting you and not recognising you as THE main schumaclerc blog. schumaclerc would be such a power couple. mick and charles both making up like 6 places in the sprint. imagining them as teammates at ferrari joint in their campaign against ferrari's stupid ass decisions. both wrapped in the teams mythology with ferrari in their veins. maybe they don't get along at first like "you're Seb's other favourite aren't you" side eying each other suspiciously

🌵

SJFHKJDFGVJD PLEASE OH MY GOD SORRY FOR FORGETTING ABOUT THIS FOR 4 WHOLE DAYS BUT NOW YOU'VE OPENED THE FLOODGATES OF MY BRAINTROT AND I'M NOT GONNA APOLOGIZE FOR THAT BECAUSE TECHNICALLY THIS IS YOUR DOING ANON, but god i live for the narrative that charles and mick are foils who wish one had what the other has.

like, you have charles, a prodigy primed by ferrari, whose once-in-a-lifetime talent garnered not only attention but pressure from the whole world to prove himself on these when-not-if claims of success. who despite having entered the scene like a fucking firecracker, feels like he hasn't proved himself enough when everyone knows exactly what he's capable and wishes he could see it too.

and then there's mick who, for better or for worse, is a fucking schumacher. he was born into this shit. he's ferrari royalty. but with that comes a lot of pressure too. he's good, yes, you don't win f3 and f2 doing jack shit, but with a name like his he feels like he needs to be even better to prove that he's more than just that.

and that's where their paths converge, entangled in 'i wish' and 'what if'. charles wishes ferrari was in his blood the way it is in mick’s, maybe that way he doesn’t feel like he constantly has to prove he belongs in this team despite being their most beloved—but it makes mick doubt if he'd be worth anything to ferrari if not for his name.

for fuck's sake they even share relationships with sebastian, both their mentors but they both see him so differently. for charles it's hero worship, admiration and respect. it's hoping he sees you as an equal and sees the potential in you. it's 'i could never give him advice because he's more experienced than me and who am i to do that'. but for mick, sebastian vettel is just seb. he respects him as a driver yes, but in the end he's his father's friend and now his. he's seb 'who watched me play angry birds on the plane when i was 11'. there's a friendliness between them that charles never had with sebastian and maybe it kills him but we'll never know.

god, if they were teammates at ferrari, they'd be out for blood. they'd try to pit two princes against each other but they've internalized their envy enough that it’s stewed into something more like mutual respect. they’ve both been through hell and back. strung along and dragged through the mud by their godawful bosses, but it’s only made their more resilient. they bounce back stronger. like, yeah, we’ve both been through shit. there’s no use in trying to kill each other trying to prove who deserves the crown. and i think that’s really neat.

[kylewalker-peters]

Hello!!⭐️ If it's not too much trouble, could you please rec some iconic Spurs games for a newbie to watch? Maybe Poch era or whatever comes to your mind first! If your cool Spursy friends want to rec some as well, I'd love that. Thank you💞 have a good week🙏

OMG yes i'd be more than happy to tell you any games my little goldfish brain can remember!!! firs things first though welcome to spurs!!!!!!! also if anyone else thinks of others hopefully they'll add them cause like my memory's awful

I'll go poch era onwards.

iconic but before 16/17 would be the spurs 2 v arsenal 1 game in 2015, the 5-3 against Chelsea at home but also the battle of the bridge 2-2 which everyone should watch just cause it WILL come up when talking about spurs and it's such a perfect encapsulation of Tottenham being Tottenham and also if i ever see mark clattenburg on the street it's over for that prick.

16/17

idk how many upon reflection are super iconic? even if the season as a whole was but i will say any game where we won by a lot of goals is worth watching just because we were so fun to watch at that time and we did it quite a bit. our home game against Chelsea was the dele show and it was soooooooo good idk how well it holds up on rewatch but like that was the Moment

17/18

again i think there's a couple where we won by a shit ton of goals esp at the end of the season so i'd give them a watch if you have time. we were actually so good in the ucl this season we were so unlucky against juve but i'd deffo recommend the dortmund games and THE real Madrid game at home like lives were changed, history was written, depression cured. the 4-1 thrashing of Liverpool which of course i missed but harry kane sent lovren to the retirement and oh my god i think we also had THE 2-2 game against liverpool this season too which is iconic if not because we were good then just because of the beef that it created. wouldn't watch the whole game but the 2-0 win against united where eriksen scored the opener in 11 seconds. THE WIN AT STAMFORD BRIDGE LITERALLY ICONIC oh my god i have been chasing the high of that game every single day of my life since it happened. the 5-4 against Leicester isn't iconic iconic but it lives in my head rent free for being the most chaotic thing I've ever seen as the scoreline suggests. wait okay like this will not be iconic to you but the 6-1 against rochdale (which was during our Embarrassing era of constantly needing replays) where kwp got his goal in the snow? top of the charts in my household!!!

actually this season had so many good games damn maybe we need to talk about this season more too

18/19

the whole ucl campaign literally the definition of iconic i want to run back into her arms all the time even if the wheels were falling off this club already you could forget it when you were knocking city out of the UCL. idk if the group games are as good now cause we know we got to the final but at the time that shit was literally do or die like we could have gone out on my birthday it was awful. but idk i always like to watch the highlights on youtube from the first group game to the ajax game just for the whole experience again. but obvs the first leg against dortmund, second leg against city, second leg against ajax are some of the most iconic games in spurs history

us beating united 3-0 at old trafford was a good game and "moura is practically like a new signing" was a fun 5 minutes until moura logged into twitter. us beating chelsea at home always good and great and amazing. dele, kane and son scoring we literally used to be such a Club. us knocking arsenal out of the carabao was very funny and iconic of us but i also might just be remembering danny's interview afterwards where he humbled them

19/20

i think our win against city was the only iconic thing we had that whole season. there was iconic in other ways (like losing to colchester) but i would only wish my worst enemy to watch that.

20/21

again iconic games but mostly in a bad way like us v everton in the fa cup. we did smash united 1-6 at old trafford though which was very iconic and cool of us

idk if you need any games after this so i wont cause this is already pretty long but i hope there's at least one good game in here you enjoy watching

[starlightsearches]

thinking abt Eddie teaching us how to play dnd. private lessons to start since the campaigns for the hellfire club are serious business but thinking about the way he scoots his chair closer to us so that our thighs touch. reaching for the die at the dice at the same time and our fingers brush and his cheeks and ears turning pink as he clears his throat and continues on with his lesson like neither of us are on fire for one another. i love him. eddie brainrot.

Roll for Initiative

My love, your mind!!!!!! Incredible concept, 10000/10, no notes. Thank you so much for sharing this with me 💖 likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated 🥰

Eddie Munson x Femme! Reader

Requests are open!

Warnings: Language, my D&D knowledge is severely lacking, it's a little horny but SFW, only around 600 words, mostly just angst (but I could be convinced to write a second part if people are interested 🥺)

He's usually better than this.

Nobody has thrown him off his game before—Eddie's got a whole arsenal of moves when he wants to pull (normally starting and ending with "hey, you wanna smoke?")—but you've got him bumbling and shaking, stuttering over his words like a fucking virgin on prom night.

And it's not just because you're pretty—although you are. Chewing on your bottom lip, looking wide-eyed down at the table, then glancing up at him through your lashes. It's not just because you're smart, or nice to him, or willing to listen when he rambles about his new campaign, or really, really fucking pretty.

It's not.

"So now I . . ." you glance at him, hand hovering over the little pile of dice in front of you on his kitchen counter.

He clears his throat. "Uh, roll for initiative."

"Right, and that's with the . . ."

"The D20." He reaches for it because it's easier than staring at you, something to think about besides how close he is and how easy it should be for him to slip an arm around the back of your chair.

But you're doing the same, and when the tips of your fingers brush against his own, he's got the electric spark in his bones—like it's actually painful for him to touch you and not in the way he wants—until he has to jump away.

Fuck. The dice scatter, chittering off the table and onto the floor, landing among the crumbs and the few wrappers he couldn't toss in the trash before your arrival.

"God, shit, I'm sorry," he has to laugh because otherwise he'll get up and run, just bolt from the fucking table and this mess and the stupid part of him that ever thought it would be a good idea to try and spend any time alone with you.

You just smile, and you're touching him again, hand resting lightly on his upper arm this time. He wishes he'd changed out of his hellfire shirt before this so he could feel your skin against his and not through his stupid sleeve.

"Don't worry about it, I got it."

Then he watches you slip to your knees—skirt riding up around your thighs as it clings to the seat—before you dive under the table.

God, his eyes actually roll back in his head, craning his neck to peer at you on your hands and knees, his own sweaty palms clinging to his denim-covered legs.

There's the swell of your ass—better than it's ever looked in his imagination—and he wonders what you'd do if he reached out, cupping your warm flesh of your thigh and sliding higher, his fingers just slipping under the edge of the pretty pink silk that covers the rest of you.

He thinks about joining you under the table, wonders if the cheap poly-laminate shelter would make him brave, and he'd be able to take your face in his palms and say something that would impress you, something that sounded clever and funny because he loves the way his lungs burn whenever he manages to make you laugh.

Maybe you'd let him kiss you.

It's stupid. And phony. Just another fantasy—sitting here and staring at the game board full of elves and wizards and dire wolves, just as real as any world where you'd actually think about going out with a freak like him.

You pop back out from under the table, holding out the dice in your hand.

"It rolled a 15. Does that count?"

He smiles, laughing a little despite the hollow feeling in his chest. "Only if it lands on the table."

You pretend to pout, sliding back into the chair, a little closer than it was before, the ripped knee in his jeans brushing against your thigh. He shifts an inch the other direction until the contact is lost.

"Okay, so now I roll for initiative?"

Eddie rests his head in his palm, nodding in response and trying to hide the hurt in his eyes.

Like he said. Fantasy.

Part Two

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN—requested by anonymous]

[2.2k] or, when you give eddie the birthday he deserves with a special gift.

.

Eddie Munson never really celebrated his birthday. 

In fact, if he was being completely honest with himself, he couldn’t remember a time where his birthday was a big deal. It was simply a day in the calendar that told him he was one year older. No one ever made it more than that. 

Not when his mother spent more time looking at the bottom of a beer bottle. Not when his father spent more time under another roof. Not when his uncle spent most of his time working to keep food on his plate. 

No one had ever made a big deal about Eddie Munson’s birthday but it was okay, because he didn’t know any different. It was the way he was used to after twenty odd years of half-hearted wishes and pats on his back. 

Eddie Munson had no expectations when it came to his birthday. 

But then he met you. 

He didn’t understand why you made such a big deal about the whole thing. The way you reacted, someone would’ve thought a puppy had just been shot in front of you. 

Eddie sat on the edge of his bed, elbows against his knees and brows raised in amusement as he watched you pace back and forth, rambling how it was insane that he had never celebrated his birthday. Not one party, not even one fucking present. 

If he was being honest, he found it cute how riled up you got. 

He was used to the girl who would give him soft smiles from across the room, who would lean down to whisper in his ear when you were in a large group of people and who’s cheeks would burn red when he would pull her down on his lap during Hellfire campaigns. 

It was adorable seeing you get so exasperated for him, if that was even the right word. You looked a bit like one of those angry chipmunk cartoons he sometimes saw on posters around town. But he loved every second of it. 

“It’s not that big of a deal, baby,” he murmured as he leaned his chin against your stomach, hands on the back of your thighs as you stood between his legs. 

“It’s a big deal to me,” you responded with a small pout on your lips, your fingers softly tangled in his curls.

He loved the way you took his face in your hands as you looked him in the eyes. He loved the way you promised this year would be different. He loved the way you sealed your promise with a chaste kiss on his lips, your smile so shy and sweet afterwards. 

He fucking loved you so much it sometimes made his chest hurt. 

It was no surprise to him when he woke up on the morning of his birthday to you straddling his waist, a bright grin on your face and an excited glimmer in your eyes. You were only dressed in one of his shirts that brushed along your upper thigh and a pair of panties that felt like a flimsy barrier between you both. 

“Happy birthday, baby,” you spoke as you leaned down to press your lips against his, the kiss being slow and passionate and probably the best fucking thing he could wake up to. 

“Hmm, good morning to you too,” he murmured as his hands slid up your thighs, pushing the hem of the shirt to your waist and letting his fingers dance along your panties. 

“Watch it,” you warned playfully, pulling back to see the blank look on his face.

“I thought the birthday boy got what he wanted,” he muttered with a small huff, but he couldn’t hold back his smile when you giggled.

“There’s plenty of time for that later, birthday boy,” you teased as your hands rested on top of his, keeping them on your thighs before they started to wander. “We have plans.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “We do?” 

“You really thought I wouldn’t plan anything for your birthday?” you retorted, amusement written all over your face and god, he loved this side of you. Feisty and snappy and all for his eyes only. 

“I thought this was the plan,” Eddie grumbled as he gestured between the two of you and the bed. He would be a happy, happy man if he could keep you in bed all day, his hands all over your body and his head between your thighs. 

But before he could even get a chance of trying to coax you back into the bed, you were peeling yourself off his lap and walking towards the bedroom door, your bare feet padding softly along the ground as you made your way towards the kitchen. 

Not that it took long for Eddie to quickly follow, clad only in his pyjama bottoms as he wrapped his arms around your waist and nestled his head in the crook of your neck, gently swaying your body with his own as you plated the pancakes you had made for the two of you. 

Eddie didn’t think he had ever started a birthday with a breakfast other than whatever cereal they had laying around, or even sometimes a piece of toast that was definitely toeing the line of being mouldy. 

Just when he thought you were done, you would pull out another surprise for him. And that was just how the day continued to go. 

The excitement as you got ready for the day, barely able to contain yourself as you made your way towards Family Video whilst practically bouncing in the passenger seat. The way you quickly grabbed his hand before he opened his door, handing him a blindfold with a grin on your face. The way your fingers intertwined as you led him into the shop, softly squeezing his hand as you told him to pull down the blindfold. 

Eddie couldn’t explain the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest as his eyes took in the sight in front of him. 

The different sized balloons taped to the walls and shelves. The shitty handmade banner that had ‘happy birthday eddie!’ sprawled across it. The corny pointy party hats everyone was wearing. The oddly shaped cake sat on the counter with three candles sticking out of it. The grins on everyone’s faces as they yelled ‘surprise!’. 

Eddie couldn’t explain why it felt a little hard to breathe as he took in his friends—his fucking family, if he was being honest with himself— and the fact you did all this for him, that you all set this up for him. 

Because maybe it only just hit him that he had people who really cared for him. 

The blur of emotions were mixed with pure excitement as you tugged him towards the counter, a grinning Dustin already rambling on about the cake that was in front of him. It was a little lopsided and messy, but Dustin had made it all by himself and Eddie truly believed it was the best fucking cake he had ever had in his life (even if the taste was questionable).

Eddie Munson didn’t think he ever felt as loved as he did at that moment. He didn’t think anything could top the way his cheeks hurt from grinning so hard or the way his side burned with a stitch from laughing so much. 

Eddie Munson didn’t think anything could make it better. 

It was coming close to eight in the evening when you both stumbled into the trailer, the buzz of the few beers bubbling in your system and making things just a little more enjoyable in the world. Eddie’s hands were all over you, unable to tear himself away from you no matter how much you playfully batted his hands away. 

“Baby, let me go,” you giggled as you shuffled towards his bedroom, your voice a loud whisper despite the place being empty except for the two of you.

“Why?” he whined as you tore his hands away, grinning to yourself as you pushed him towards the bed. “Just want my girl.” 

“Got one last surprise for you,” you hummed as you tried to contain your excitement, your back facing the metalhead so you didn’t see the way he frowned confusion. 

“Another, baby? You have done more than enough,” Eddie spoke, his voice soft and his words a little slurred but he was one more surprise away from thinking you were an actual fucking angel sent for him. 

“Hm, but this is your present,” you told him as you turned around, a cardboard tube in your hand. Your cheeks were flushed—though he wasn’t sure if that was the beer or the general excitement—and you were barely able to contain yourself as you shoved the tube towards him. 

Eddie raised his brows, taking the tube from your hand and looking down at the gift in his hand. “Doll, you better not have spent much on me.” 

“Shush,” you scolded him as you settled on the bed next to him, your chin propped on his shoulder as you watched his fingers glide along the seal. “Open it.” 

“Somebody’s impatient,” Eddie teased and laughed when you lightly pinched his side. 

“Hurry up,” you huffed out, your fingers itching to just rip the tube open yourself. 

However, Eddie took mercy on your giddy impatience and quickly moved to pop the lid of the tube open, glanding inside to see a rolled up sheet of glossy paper. His face broke out into a grin when he realised it was a poster. 

“Baby, you shouldn’t have,” he grinned as he turned his head to look at you, only there was a small shift in your demeanor. You looked…hesitant, maybe almost nervous. “You good?” 

“Mhm,” you hummed before pressing your lips together. “Just hope you like it.” 

“I can assure you, baby, imma love whatever–” Yet the words quickly died on his tongue as he took in the sight in front of him. 

Eddie loved posters. Hell, his bedroom walls were covered in them. From Metallica to Iron Maiden to a collection of other bands and artists alike, he loved covering his walls with the things he loved. It made him happy, it made the crappy trailer feel like a proper home. 

He was excited to add another poster to his collection. 

He was absolutely gobsmacked to see you on the poster.

Eddie could count on one hand the amount of photos he had of you. The second he pointed a camera towards you, your hands would be covering your face and playful scolds leaving your mouth as you tried to run away from him. He had a few polaroids tucked into the edge of his mirror, simple shots where you were caught off guard but had truly never looked more beautiful.

But this…this was something different. 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the glossy posted in his hands, his lips parted and his big brown eyes staring wide at the sight of you. He barely paid attention to the Rolling Stones-esque nature of the photo or even his band name sprawled across the bottom of the poster because in all honesty, none of it compared to you. 

Clad in only a lacy number he definitely hadn’t seen before and his denim vest, he could barely handle the sight of you kneeling there, legs spread and so much bare skin exposed. So much fucking skin that his head could barely compute. But the cherry on fucking top was the guitar pressed against your chest, standing between your open legs. 

His guitar. 

There were too many thoughts racing through his head in that moment: starting with how the fuck you even managed to put this together and ending with how fucking gorgrous you looked in only his clothes with his guitar. 

His two most prized fucking possessions in one picture.

“Holy shit,” he breathed out, the words barely audible if it weren’t for the fact you were sitting right next to him. 

“Do you like it?” you asked, the nerves laced between your words and he snapped his head around to look at you as though you were insane. 

“Like it?” he huffed out between a disbelieving laugh. “Baby, I fucking adore it.” 

Your face brightened. “Really?” 

Eddie scoffed. “You fucking serious? Both my girls in one photo? What more can I want!”

“You’re not mad I touched her without your permission?” you asked, lip tucked between your teeth.

“What’s mine is yours, doll,” he murmured and wasted no time in placing the poster down, with more grace than you had ever seen him do with anything before, pulling you onto his lap so his lips could quickly find yours. “Could never be mad at you.” 

“Hm,” you hummed as your nose brushed against his, your fingers playing with the ends of his curls. Your cheeks burned as the next words left your mouth, despite the fact that a few feet away you were practically naked on a poster for him. “That’s a shame, I was kinda looking forward to you…punishing me.” 

Eddie’s lips twitched. “Yeah?” 

You flashed him a shy smile. “Yeah.” 

“I don’t know, doll,” his voice was low and raspy, and it made your whole body feel warm. His hands ran up and down your thighs, squeezing the flesh over the fabric of your jeans. “Think I’d rather thank you for making this the best birthday ever.” 

Your breath hitched. “Any way you want, Eds.”

His face broke out into a grin as he slapped your ass, his eyes darkening at the small squeal you let out. “Then get that pretty ass out of those jeans and on the bed, baby. I’m not letting you out of this bed until the sun fucking rises.”

.

[trashywritestrash]

hc abt the reader and eddie being ennemies to lovers? ty

Eddie Munson Enemies to Lovers Headcannons

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader

Word Count: 1.65k

Warnings: STRANGER THINGS SEASON FOUR, VOLUME ONE SPOILERS. Canon level themes: murder mention, reader owns/possesses a gun, a little emotional hurt/comfort if you squint?, a couple curse words, this is literally a full fic written in bullet points, accidentally jumping between past and present tense but oh well

A/N: Please excuse how haphazard this probably is lol, I did my best. It got away from me though oops. This goes a little off prompt though, sorry :/

Please tell me what you think! This is my first time writing for Stranger Things, so I would love feedback!

gif by drogonstone

You think Eddie is annoying

Seriously, who the hell climbs onto a table in the middle of lunch and starts yelling about conformity? (You weren’t there to experience it, but Dustin told you about it later)

You weren’t too happy when Dustin and his friends got mixed up with him. But they idolized Eddie and said he wasn’t so bad

What could you do? Force them to give up Hellfire? No way, you couldn’t do that to them

So you decided that they could go to Hellfire all they wanted, as long as you didn’t have to deal with Eddie yourself

Unfortunately, things don’t always go according to plan

You and Steve took turns dropping the kids off and picking them up from Hellfire

Steve was in the same graduating class as you and you two became friends once he dropped the whole “King Steve” complex

The two of you were essentially the parents slash babysitters of these kids. Dustin is your brother, so that makes sense. But the others? You don’t remember adopting them, but it apparently happened along the way

Fighting a Demogorgon (along with other assorted demonic creatures) together creates an unbreakable bond

So when Dustin spoke through the radio he gave you and asked you to come inside after Hellfire, you had to say yes

One of the other members gave him a big box of… whatever junk it was that he didn’t want anymore, but Dustin couldn’t lift it

And instead of having him help carry it, Dustin asked you

You entered the room, took one look at the box, and said “You couldn’t lift this?”

Dustin immediately tries to defend himself “It’s heavier than it looks!”

When you pick it up you realize Dustin could absolutely carry this

That little shit

“So you’re the sister”

God, that voice. You wanted to punch him before he could keep talking

“Yeah, and you’re the Dungeon Master”

He grins, “So the pretty princess has heard of me? I’m honored”

Now it’s your turn to grin. “Can’t say I’m impressed” Eddie’s grin falters, but quickly bounces back

“Awe, honey. Maybe you just haven’t heard enough”

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty”

While both of you are grinning, everyone can see the daggers that you both are throwing with your eyes. Dustin has to step in

“Thanks for carrying the box, Y/N. We’re gonna head out now! See you guys next week!” Dustin, Mike, and Lucas all push you out of the room

Eddie Munson thinks you’re a brat

But Dustin clearly loves you, so he doesn’t say anything

After that first encounter, Dustin tried to ease some of the tension between you and Eddie

It didn’t work

“Hey, Eddie! Can Y/N watch our session?”

“Unless she’s playing, she’s not coming in”

Dustin would have genuinely invited you to play, but the Cult of Vecna was not a beginner friendly campaign

“It’s okay, Dustin, I don’t want to play with Hellfire anyway. He’d probably ruin my introduction to the game and I’d end up hating it. I’d rather learn with you kids”

“We’re not kids!”

“You’re younger than me so you’re a kid”

Dustin suddenly looks solemn

“I just wish you two would get along better” He mutters sadly

Your heart cracks

You’re the best sister Dustin could ever ask for. You help him with his homework (when he very rarely asks for it), you drive him places without being angry about it, you take an interest in the things he likes instead of calling him a nerd

Well, you still call him a nerd, but he knows you’re not saying it in a mean way. It’s just playful teasing, and you both love it

When Chrissy Cunningham died, your world turned upside down. More like Upside Down

Dustin pulled you into everything, and you didn’t mind. As traumatic as it all is, you appreciate knowing what’s going on and being able to help your brother where you can

It’s the I’d-rather-get-hurt-than-you mindset

Another thing that makes you a good sister: you trust Dustin

So when he told you that Eddie was innocent, you believed him

You still took a gun to Reefer Rick’s house, just in case

Yes, a gun. After seeing, fighting, and experiencing all of the things that you did, you felt safer with some kind of protection

When Eddie jumps out from under the tarp, you reflexively push Dustin and Max behind you and reach for it

Dustin roughly grabs your arm, silently telling you not to do it

Eddie looks moments away from slashing Steve’s throat, and that terrifies you

But Dustin talks Eddie down and Steve is released. You rush to him, rubbing his back comfortingly

You stay quiet while Eddie reveals the details of Chrissy’s death. It’s almost too brutal to stomach, but you keep yourself together

Robin puts a hand on your shoulder. You reach over and set your hand over hers, giving it a small squeeze

Eventually, everyone decides to go out to buy food for Eddie

Max speaks up “Someone should stay here with Eddie. Just in case”

Obviously, you’re not going to let either of the kids stay

“I think Y/N should stay”

You give Dustin a look that says ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’

“You have a gun” he explains

“Wait, what—?”

“You have a gun?!”

“Where the hell did you get a gun?!”

“Okay, stop! I’ll stay” You stop everyone before pointing a finger at Steve “Keep an eye on them”

He rolls his eyes “I always do. I’m the babysitter, remember?”

“So am I, that’s why I’m saying it again”

You and Eddie are left in awkward silence

“So… you have a gun. Why?” Eddie tries to start a conversation

“After fighting demons and monsters, I wanted something to help me feel safe”

“Did it work?”

“No” You answer genuinely, sitting on the floor beside him

Eddie pauses for a moment before asking “Did you bring it here because of me? Because you think I killed Chrissy?”

“No, I don’t think you did it. You’re not capable”

He frowns “But I’m the freak”

You turn to face Eddie, deciding that this conversation is important. You’re not going to be sarcastic or sass him right now. Eddie feels the same level of sincerity and it shows

“I’ll admit, it looked bad. But when Dustin told me he knew you were innocent, he didn’t have to convince me. You’re wild, and bold, and a little unhinged; but you’re not evil. And you’re not a freak either”

“If you’re not careful, honey, I’m gonna think you’re warming up to me”

“You’re not half bad when you’re not being an ass”

You both chuckle until Eddie stops to ask “What did I do when we first met? What made you not like me?”

“Honestly, I told myself I didn’t like you before I even entered that room. Dustin always talked about you, and it was all praise. That kid worships you.”

“I don’t get it. You didn’t like me because Dustin did?”

“Yeah? I’ve always been afraid that Dustin would wish he had an older brother instead of me. I made myself into the best version of a big sister that I could be, but I’m not a boy, I don’t get everything.”

“What about your boyfriend? You’re not worried about him with Dustin?” There’s something in Eddie’s voice that confuses you… Jealousy? No, that can’t be it

“Steve?” You scoff “He’s not my boyfriend. We both symbolically adopted the same group of kids and we became friends because of it. And yeah, Dustin likes him, but it’s not the same. In his eyes, you can do no wrong. But he constantly calls Steve dumb”

Eddie thinks over the information “So, if Dustin thinks I’m perfect, you’re worried that he won’t think you are?”

“I don’t need to be perfect” You grumble a little, but Eddie is still smiling. He thinks it’s kind of cute “I’m not perfect and I won’t pretend to be. But I don’t want him to prefer you over me”

Eddie gives you a thoughtful smile “He could never. Dustin loves you, you’ve done so much for him, and he knows it. You don’t hear what he says about you”

“Wait, what does he say?” Your eyes lock onto Eddie’s, desperate to hear what he has to say

“He loves spending time with you, you’re his favorite person to be around. When you told him you wanted to learn to play D&D he came into lunch and started running his mouth about how he had the coolest sister, and he was going to teach you how to play so that you could join Hellfire and he would get to spend even more time with you”

Your heart softens “He really thinks that? I thought he would get tired of spending time with me”

“No way in Hell” Eddie shakes his head “He would spend every second of every day with you if he could”

Eddie leans in like whispering a secret. His warm breath tickles your neck, sending an excited chill through your body. Wait what?

“Don’t tell Harrington, but when Dustin sees his car instead of yours, he actually looks sad”

You slap your hand over your mouth to hold in a laugh “Oh, I’m totally telling Steve that. I need the ego boost”

Eddie laughs “Well then you didn’t hear it from me”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your name out of it” You laughter dies down into a soft smile “Thanks, Eddie. I needed to hear all that”

“Any time, sweetheart”

Eddie holds out his hand to you “Truce?”

“Truce” You shake his hand, solidifying the deal.

When the rest of the crew returns, they find you and Eddie still sitting on the floor, talking and laughing like old friends

Dustin smiles to himself, happy that two of his favorite people seem to finally get along

—————

If you enjoyed this or would like to read more of my work, please consider liking, reblogging, or tipping my Ko-fi!

[animefreak1145]

The Brilliance of Break On Through

Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War Mission Break on Through—An Analysis

I have replayed the campaign of COD:BOCW numerous times—too many times truly. Did a whole playthrough where it was Hardened and soon I’m sure I shall do Veteran(something I have never done for any COD game. Not even Hardened.).

All missions have their own unique qualities—parts where the player gets a little rush of adrenaline depending on the kind of mission and how they choose to play it (Nowhere Left to Run just a plain shooting match while Brick in the Wall you can choose to remain stealthy like the good spy you are or go crazy like an eager homicidal maniac).

Even within the safehouse, there are plenty of little details to discover if you take the time to look around and observe everyone. Or, everything. (The radio if turned to a Russian station/correspondence, Adler changes it back immediately before Da Nang mission. Watching Park’s body language, as you talk to Adler and she periodically looks over to you two. Adler suspicious when you go to the Red Room or the locked room with the arcade. The T.V. being turned on in the Red Room)

But the amount of details, details, in the mission Break on Through is outstanding. I have played this mission more than any other due to me wishing to look at all the details. There’s so many, I think I may miss some. And I can’t show them off all to you cause I suck at creating gifs and don’t know how to transfer that from Xbox to my phone.

To lighten it up a bit, I won’t focus on the four different scenarios you go through—at least not each one. That would take too long and I do not have gifs/pics to show it off since Tumblr limits it to ten anyways.

I will, however, try to guide to what parts of the game you all can explore if you choose to do so. As well just how detailed they did this mission.

I am going to start with the different statements Adler says to you throughout all the Scenarios(17, 6, 11, 1). We only go through four in the actual game—but the fact it goes up to 17 or possibly more shows just how far they went in and messed with Bell’s mind.

Now, Adler seems to be a bit bipolar on how he talks to you whether or not you listen to him and all his directions. Either totally blasé and cold to giving you and pumping you up with more MK or meds, or actually a tad concerned and patient as he guides you through.

If You/Bell Stands Still/Does Nothing:

Example 1

“So you did nothing? What were you, in shock?”

He throws the words callously, mocking. As if Bell isn’t confused and lost at what is going on. He even sounds irritated that you might actually be in shock due to these memories that are just fake—not even real. Not like what he has.

Example 2

“What’s wrong with Bell?” -Adler

“I’m not sure. . .” -Park

“I guess we’ll just wait on you to proceed, Bell.”

The contrast is dizzying. He sounds concerned when he asks Park on what could be wrong with you. If he pushed you too far and now you’re just frozen. And, instead of rushing you due to how the fate of half of Europe is at stake, he decides to give you space. Just wait for you and you’ll come out of it soon enough.

He does these sort of reactions numerous times. Jumping from intimidating to the Adler we knew as the player, as Bell—kind and always in your corner that believes in you. He switches tactics based on what he believes will work really—or he just felt really on edge at times and threw the farce that you two were friends out the window.

Other examples include:

Scenario 11–Napalm Strike-in the lab in the room where you were brainwashed

“Christ, what’s happening with them?”-Adler

“A mild seizure. Sims, past me a benzodiazepine.” -Park

Again, concerned. Worried. Almost…at unease?

In the lab—tripped up on drugs. If you run through the tight shrinking hallway back and forth like so(I suck at making gifs, I’m sorry):

“Why is Bell repeating themselves?”

Or

“Bell, stop speaking in circles.”

Now, as others may have suspected, Bell is talking to everyone as they’re stuck in this horrible loop of mental torture. Most likely muttering, hands clenching and arms pulling against the straps of the gurney, moving their head back and forth depending on what they’re seeing. I always saw Bell as muttering quickly in Russian as they go through all of this—their mother tongue where it may comfort them as they’re panicking and speaking to Adler.

It’s just a nice detail showcasing how exactly Adler knows that Bell is on script—Bell saying what they’re seeing and doing and what’s going on. It shows also just how hard they put Bell through the ringer(badum tss. I’ll leave now).

All the details too when the game shows how the drugs they put in Bell affects you. Like so. The hallways appearing long. The lights looking yellow. You feel so fast—look how quick you can run. Run towards the Red Door that Adler so desperately wants and maybe this can stop. Ah, why is it running away from you? What’s going on?

I don’t know about you, but I was so lost and confused at what was going on my first playthrough. For the majority of this mission, the possibility of me being brainwashed didn’t reach the BACK of my mind till probably I actually saw the flashes of scenes about Vietnam and calling Bell a subject. So like right here.

I personally thought that I had a repressed memory or something due to me going through the Vietnam War. That whatever I saw with Perseus, I—or rather Bell—repressed it from our mind due to how violent or horrible what we saw or experienced was. And that Adler suspected and just really wanted to know about it.

I didn’t expect for the man to actually brainwash my character—us—Bell! The game made Adler your mentor, who always defended you from Hudson and believed in your skills very highly. How he and Bell were basically perfect partners when the two of you were together.

It’s amazing—cause I think that’s what the developers were going for. The absolute trust. The loyalty. The denial that ‘maybe Adler is being a little harsh but hey, this is to help Perseus so it’s okay?’ It’s perfect. Because I’m sure that is what Bell actually felt in real time.

Yet, if you go through the total rebellious choice of not listening to Adler, some thing’s make sense. The Rebellious Side shows you way more than if you just listen to Adler like a Dutiful Soldier.

You go through this room if you choose the rebellious route, the T.V.’s automatically turning on the closer you get. Of Vietnam. And now, all those T.V.‘s that turned on by themselves(the Red Room, Lubyanka, Cuba) make sense. You were actually being brainwashed. Poor Bell probably can’t ever have a turned off/broken T.V. again. The trauma.

Said trauma being shown multiple times too. Not just the T.V.‘s. But the absolute terror that Bell felt, before they became Bell, with Adler.

Like do you see this? This terrified me when I saw it at the end of the hallway. I just saw a red shadow in the distance and I legit thought I was about to be chased. Call of Duty became a horror game(I also went through the door to the ground too my first playthrough, so before this I went through zombies and I think my heart was going to jump out my chest) I thought. I didn’t want to get closer. I had to, with each step I see that it’s not a shadow but a body. And than I see the familiar jacket, the sound of whirring in my ears and see it’s Adler’s head being twisted back and forth, side to side, up and down, in a speed that in inhumanely possible.

Makes one wonder if Bell themselves sees Adler as inhumane. Not human. Adler seeming to just be a god in their head. All the Adler shaped rocks/boulders you go through and see. Even one point the V.C. becoming Adler and you killing him over and over and dead bodies of Adler being everywhere.

The man has entered Bell’s head and won’t leave. Just like Adler won’t leave Bell alone.

Heck, there’s one point in my playthroughs of this mission I was by the bridge yet there were parts of the lab by it. I jumped towards it, noticing down below there were different floors of the lab that eventually reach the ground. I jumped to reach the next floor and missed and I died.

And Adler mocked Bell committing suicide.

That was the kicker really that Adler truly is indifferent towards Bell. Like complete disregard. I know it’s fake. We know it’s fake. Adler knows it’s fake—but to Bell, it felt real. That’s the crazy part. All of this—this whole sequence feels real to Bell so each time they die they actually feel it. It’s insane. It’s cruel.

But we all know that Adler isn’t known for his kindness. Still like his character though, he’s layered.

I don’t have the exact quote he said, didn’t wrote it down like the others. I was shook he said it at all.

Moving on to the final details I’m going to talk about.

When you go through the room, I believe this comes out for both rebellious and dutiful, really depends. You see it filled with post it notes, articles, plans, and newspapers. And you see once more just how Bell has been scarred.

I don’t know Russian or German, but I imagine the notes are similar to what the English one’s say. If I’m wrong, please point it out.

There’s also post it notes which I believe is in code as well due to all the numbers—I’m not sure what those could mean since I am no decoding expert.

Poor poor Bell. And with all these pictures and plans—of Adler included—it begs the question that Bell may have been warned about the famous America’s Monster beforehand. Had to have—since Adler is basically Perseus’s adversary due to how stubborn the American man could be. It just adds more to the story, despite Cold War having quite a short campaign, they made it up somewhat with all these details everywhere.

When you finally and actually reach the room.

As you grow closer to the table, to your chair in the conference room while everyone else seems to have their own spots, there’s something I noticed.

There’s glasses. As well as a hat. And it’s Bell’s. Or at least, it used to be. Why else is it on their side of the table? By their chair? I believe it might be reading glasses due to all the decryptions Bell does, whether on paper or through a computer, it’s hard on the eyes. (I’m sure I’m not the only one who noticed this. For look at @second-vtoroy ‘s Bell)

I believe through the brainwashing, Bell might not need glasses anymore. After all, apparently they were a smoker like Adler before too but they took that out of you. What else they changed of Bell? It makes one wonder how far they truly went into molding a person.

Which just adds onto how mind boggling this mission is—this game is. This is my favorite COD game, despite how short it is. The details and choices and interactions with everyone and able to create your own character(albeit it’s very standard and not specific but it’s good enough for me) is AMAZING. I’ve always been a sucker for RPG’s and able to get that even a little in a COD game? Truly wonderful.

I couldn’t touch on everything because it would’ve gotten long, but the fun of the Break on Through mission never gets old. It’s genius multiple ways you can do it. All the details. The feelings you feel as a player as you go through it.

They truly did a unique job with this and I hope they continue with this type of game storytelling. Hopefully longer as well.

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this rant basically!

Gifs made by me and used the video down below to help.

https://youtu.be/t6QkmkGGHSQ

[mariana-oconnor]

Behind the cut there is going to be mostly senseless babbling about how much I love Vox Machina, so there are definitely going to be spoilers for episodes 1-9 of The Legend of Vox Machina, you have been warned.

Every week I watch and I just remember how much I love these characters and this story and it honestly reminds me how important stories are. Which is probably pretentious of me, but my favourite character is Percy so obviously I'm a little (lot) pretentious.

OKAY, so we have to start with Scanlan's one man invasion party. They included all the best parts of it. IT WAS AMAZING. Sure they adapted stuff because they can't exactly give out his spell list to the viewers, so Dimension door was changed a bit, but we had Triceratops Scanlan and the lightning bolt from the cube and... Just absolutely Scanlan at his fucking shit up best. And his little song as he walked back from it all.

THE SKY WRITING SPELL! I love it, I love it. I mean, it really plays their hand, but also... I just love it.

CASSANDRA! I will definitely have more to say about Cassandra next week because... well... if you're reading this you probably already know why. If you don't know why - I love Cassandra de Rolo, anyway. She is badass. That is all.

BAD NEWS BAD NEWS BAD NEWS BAD NEWS BAD NEWS BAD NEWS

And Pike. Pike PIKE. Oh Pike, I love you. I always find it amusing that most fans of the show have favourite characters and they're all different and you'll find someone who loves Vax and someone who loves Grog and someone who loves Vex and someone who loves Percy (coughmecough). But if you were to ask the actual characters who their favourite member of Vox Machina was - probably every single one of them would say Pike.

As I'd already seen the show, I was waiting for her astral self to show up and kick major undead ass and she did not disappoint. I'm so glad Scanlan's song over the end credits was about Pike. She deserves all the love. It's weird to think that she was in and out of campaign so much with Blindspot happening, when Pike is just such a major character in everyone's minds.

loveloveLOVED the way Percy was walking across the background while the others were all playing catch the tongue and how the mask just appears when he disappears behind one of them's head. LOVED the backstory we got with both him as an insufferable know-it-all of a big brother (I love him, but by god is he a prick sometimes... (Yes he absolutely reminds me of myself. I am all Percy's uncool parts and none of his cool parts)) and then him *discovering* the secrets of ballistics... ahem. Fuck yes.

I do want to see him interact with more of the team, though. We got some decent Percy & Vax antagonism in this episode, but I'd like to see more of his friendship with Keyleth and maybe some of the way Grog and he are kind of... unable to understand each other because they're coming at everything from opposite directions.

Did I mention I love Pike Trickfoot?

Also did I mention BAD NEWS?

The Vaxleth was strong in this. I remember Vax's 'you know I love you right', but I didn't think it happened in this part. I will confess that I don't remember the development of Vaxleth very well, though.

I was worried about watching these episodes. I've been worried about watching all of the episodes, that I won't like them as much as I think I will. But every time I watch an episode I have a huge grin on my face and I just want to... I just wish that there was some way I could express how incredibly happy this entire show is making me and how much I love these characters and this story and tell the Critical Role team in a way that is not creepy or weird... But trying to take a feeling that is in my chest and shove it at them is always going to be weird.

I've been in a weird non-creative place recently and this show, these characters, this whole thing, is just reminding me that stories mean things to people, because this means way more to me than by any logical measure it should. And it's good to remember that. I'm not going to get maudlin about this, because I absolutely could. I could write paragraphs of terrible over the top prose about the power of fiction. I think I might already have done that. But honestly, it would all just come out as 'life needs things to live' and... yeah.

But I'm also so happy that the Critical Role guys got to do this. That they got to see this. And I watch the opening sequence every time and it's always just as badass as the last eight times I watched it and it makes me so very overjoyed that it exists.

I'm going to stop gushing now.

[13uswntimagines]

Secret Santa (Alex Morgan x Reader)

Reader is in the military and surprises her wife and daughter (with a little help from Preath). Merry Christmas from @literaryhedgehog and Me!!!

“Little bit still hasn’t told you what she wants for Christmas yet?” Kelley asked, munching on some pretzels and hummus.  

Alex rolled her eyes sliding into a seat next to her. “No, she utterly convinced that it won’t come true if she tells anyone but Santa.” 

“Didn't she write a letter? Why didn’t you just take a peek?” Tobin interjected, sitting on Kelley’s other side. Her fiancé had been so excited to have her niece for the day. 

“She mailed it to god knows where with Christen before I could,” Alex sighed, shaking her head. She had been fine with the whole mailing letters thing (actually watching your four-year old try to write out something heartfelt in blue crayon was kinda adorable), but then Camren had insisted on mailing it herself. Alex felt a little bad for the person in Antarctica who was getting the random letter. 

“Damn,” Kelley huffed, blowing her cheeks out, trying to drum up ideas. 

“Yeah, apparently it’s a Press family tradition or whatever, and Chris did it because Y/n isn’t here to. If she was she at least could have curbed some of her enthusiasm long enough to take a picture of the letter.” Alex grumbled, chewing thoughtfully on a pretzel. Your big sister had been picking up a lot of slack while you were away with the SEALs, but it just wasn’t the same as having you there. 

“We hired a Santa, so just listen to whatever she tells him,” Tobin shrugged, a look that Alex didn’t recognize crossing her features. 

“And pray to god it gets here overnight,” Kelley snorted. Hopefully whatever Camren wanted could be found at a local Walmart. 

 *****

The holiday party was in full bustle. There were benefits to doing training in Florida, so while Camren still had her heart set on snow for christmas, the adults had strung the outdoor tent with string lights and decorated it with holly and mistletoe. Camren had promised to eat at least two bites of every food there -- even the healthy ones that looked weird (her words not Alex’s) -- before she ate too many of Emily’s double chocolate chunk brownies, and so Alex was feeling rather proud of herself. She and her daughter were both there, dressed up, and only 15 minutes late for the party-- not bad for single parenting skills. Maybe after Camren was done talking to Santa, Carlie or Lindsey could be persuaded to babysit for a bit so Alex could go introduce herself to that lovely bottle of merlot she saw hiding in the corner. 

Alex was surprised with how comfortable her daughter seemed on Santa’s lap. Camren was a bit nervous walking over, but it was nothing compared to her fear last year, when she had bawled until you eventually gave up and held her behind the poor man. Perhaps it had to do with how tenderly the poor suited person seemed to hold the small child, and the little glimmer in their eyes. . 

Santa’s eyes met Alex’s for a split second, and the sense of security the slight contact brought her was slightly alarming. They looked so familiar and sent warm tingles through her chest. 

“Did you get my letter?” The little girl asked, drawing the bearded one’s attention back to her. Alex bit her lip, there was no way this random stranger got the letter addressed to Rudolph at the North Pole. 

The Santa nodded, their features softening. “I did. It seems you were very concerned about your mama getting her gift?”

The little girl nodded rapidly. “How do you know where to take it, if she’s on top secret missions all da time?” Her brow furrowed, “what if she doesn’t have a chimney to hang her stocking on?”

“I just know. Remember I know if you’ve been good or bad, or if you move. I promise she’ll get everything she wants. Now back to you. What do you want for Christmas?” Santa tried to explain. 

The little girl thought for a moment, her finger tapping on her chin, before she leaned up to cup the person’s ear. She whispered a few words, leaned back to look the bearded person in the eye. The (very fake) white beard at the top of the red coat bobbed up and down in a nod, and Alex saw a sparkle in their eye as their lips twitched above it. 

“Well that’s quite the order.” 

“Pwease? Its not that tall, and It’s the only thing I really want,” Camren pouted, pulling the puppy dog eyes that never ceased to make her parents melt. This was important, and if she only got one real chance to talk to the person who could make it happen, she wanted them to know just how much she wanted it. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” the Santa said, nodding seriously and stroking the beard as Camren jumped up and ran back to Alex. 

“What did you ask for?” Alex whispered. Good grief, wasn’t the whole point of hiring a Santa to hear what the munchkin wanted?

“Can’t say. Want it to happen,” Camren whispered back, twirling slightly as she buried herself in the hem of her mom’s skirt. This was going to be the best Christmas ever. 

****

Alex smiled widely as the Santa pulled another wrapped present from the gaudy red bag. It was a nice spin on their usual tradition, and she just hoped Pino didn’t get her for a secret Santa. That woman forgot every year, and Alex’s name hadn’t come up yet and that bag looked suspiciously empty. No wait, there was one- nope, that was Beckey’s present from Alyssa. Maybe there was a gift card in there somewhere? Alex looked down at Camren, who despite practically nodding off in Sonnet’s arms an hour ago, had woken up during the secret santa exchange. She was now sitting on the ground playing with the toy horses, blind to her surroundings.

“Hey, um Kelley? Who was running the secret santa exchange again?” Alex whispered, grabbing her arm. “I think my person forgot to get me a present.”

“What?” Kelley, turned to her shocked. “I think maybe Tobin was in charge this year, we’ll ask her if someone wrote down who your person was.”

“Oh that’s not necessary,” Christen’s voice broke in. Alex and Kelley turned to look at her and Tobin, who were standing with a very confused Emily.  “I’m really sorry, we just didn’t get a chance to wrap your gift. You’ll get it at the end of the party.” 

“Isn’t it like against the rules for Christen to get Alex since they actually spend Christmas together every year?” Sonnett whined. If she couldn’t buy presents for Lindsey, and Sam couldn’t do it for Kristie then that totally wasn’t fair.Sister-in-law and fiance-of-sister-in-law definitely had an unfair advantage on the ”knowing what presents to buy” front. She had to buy Jullie’s gift, and had just settled on some tea-rex patterned socks and a starbucks gift card. 

Lindsey glared in her direction. “Can it disonny,” she wasn’t about to let her girlfriend mess up a surprise that had been 6 months in the making. 

“It’s fine Chris, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Alex smiled sadly. 

“I mean that would have been cruel since Camren has been campaigning pretty hard for your present,” Christen snorted. It was all your daughter could talk about. She had even harassed every Santa she saw while they went Christmas shopping, and wrote several letters (that she forwarded to you) about the issue. 

“She told you what she wants, and you didn’t tell me?” Alex asked exasperated. She had been fighting with your daughter for a month to know what she actually wanted. Why on earth would she tell her aunt but not her mom? She was going to have to have a conversation with Camren about how Santa had different rules from wishing on a star or a birthday candle. Namely that she should tell her mom what she wanted!

Christen shrugged, a smile pulling at her lips, though Alex didn’t know what she was so amused about. “Well, it was for you, so I get a pass,”

“I for one think that Christen’s present is totally on point, even if it’s wrapped in ugly, sweaty red velvet,” A new voice joined the conversation, just as arms wrapped snugly around Alex’s waist. 

Alex froze, her eyes going wide and her mouth opening and closing several times. 

You chucked from behind her, spinning her around so you were face to face for the first time in almost a year. 

“Hi love.”

“Holy shit,” Alex breathed. Her hands reached up to touch your cheeks, the sense of touch confirming what she couldn’t trust her eyes to see. 

“Surprise,” You mumbled, leaning in and finally connecting your lips. You sighed into the kiss, thoroughly enjoying the way they moved together, and the taste of your wife. She impatiently pulled down the beard when you paused to breathe, and your hands found her hips, pulling her closer, while her fingers tangled in that baby hairs at the base of your neck. “Let’s do that again,” you said, your breath fanning against her lips before she pulled you back in. You had an awful lot of time to make up for. 

“Why is mommy kissing Santa Claus,” Camren asked from somewhere below your feet. You were fairly certain you heard one of your wife’s teammates explaining in the background that Santa left a little while ago, and Mama had just dressed like him to surprise Mommy. You were a tad busy to explain anything right now.

[raya-rhaenyra-ahsoka]

Why Daenerys Should've Stayed Longer in the North Than Attack Cersei Too Soon (Which is a dick move, really) PART 2

This is a continuation from my other post, as promised. Here’s the link to Part 1 here.

ALLIES FROM THE SOUTH

The Stormlands. With Dany recently legitimizing Robert Baratheon’s last living bastard, Gendry (Yay!), and appointed him as the new Lord of Storm’s End, I think he had pledged his loyalty and full support to her.

Now since the Baratheons are the overlords of the Stormlands, it ultimately makes the Stormlands part of Dany’s new rule in Westeros. And if the Stormmen questioned Gendry’s legitimacy, there are two people who can back him up: Ser Davos Seaworth, a landed knight, and Ser Brienne of Tarth, literally the heiress to Evenfall in Tarth Island. Both of whom are from the Stormlands and have served the late Baratheon lords, Stannis,

and Renly, respectively.

TV show-wise, Gendry had taken over Edric Storm’s plotline. Edric Storm was another one of Robert’s many bastards and it was him who Ser Davos saved from being killed by Mellisandre in the books, not Gendry. Gendry himself was grateful to Davos for saving his life and he sort of stepped up as his own parental figure. I also think Gendry reminded Davos of the son he lost during the Battle of Blackwater Bay.

As for Brienne, she and Gendry never shared a conversation in the show, but in the books, he even saved her life. Brienne came from Tarth, an island in the Stormlands, where her father Selwyn Tarth is lord and one of the many bannermen of the Baratheons of Storm’s End. Brienne came across Gendry in the Inn at the Crossroads while she was searching for the Stark girls. When she saw him, she literally thought he was Renly because of his striking resemblance to his uncle. Their exchange went something like this:

Brienne: Oh my god, Lord Renly?!

Gendry: Uh, what? Lord? Lol no, I’m just a smith.

I wished it happened in the show, it would’ve been funny.

Dorne. There isn’t much plot regarding Dorne in the show. (Again, f*ck D&D for ruining a great sub-plot of the story!) But in the books, the Martell heiress, Arianne was the ultimate feminist icon. She supported and fought for Myrcella Baratheon’s claim to the Iron throne over her younger brother, Tommen, and she hoped that the rest of Westeros would follow after Dorne’s right of inheritance regardless of gender and order of birth. But no! They disregarded that seemingly important plot that even George R.R. Martin was disappointed about the changes. (We hear you, George!) Nevertheless, Arianne would’ve supported a queen, yes. But between Daenerys and Cersei, she’d probably go with Dany mainly because of their family ties. In case you forgot, Rhaegar’s late first wife, Elia Martell, was Arianne’s aunt. Also, because of what happened to Elia and Oberyn Martell in King’s Landing, the Martells practically loathed the Lannisters. In the show, Oberyn Martell’s paramour Ellaria Sand, and his bastard daughters, the Sand Snakes, hated the Lannisters, that’s why they sided with Dany. But with all of them dead and House Martell now extinct, I think the new prince of Dorne would’ve allied himself with a tamer ruler, not one who plays with wildfire. (Note: this is when Dany stayed in the North and did not march south yet.)

Spies. In the Art of War, the use of spies implies gaining knowledge of the enemy, knowing their motive and their next move. With Lord Varys the Spider in Winterfell, who’s still serving under Daenerys, has its advantages. Vary’s networks of spies or as what he called them, his “little birds” are literally scattered across the seven kingdoms.

His little birds are actually children, and appearance-wise, cannot be easily identified as spies. With his intel, they could easily formulate a plan to defeat Cersei.

DEFENSE AT SEA

 If Cersei couldn’t do it by land, she’ll go by sea. Which, Daenerys of course, have the appropriate fleets to defend, covering both the Narrow and Sunset Seas. Here's a map:

(Source: pinterest.com)

Enemies to the East. If Cersei will be stupid enough to attack through the Narrow Sea by sea, Daenerys has the fleets to defend. The Northern fleet, a.k.a the Manderly Fleet of White Harbor and the Arryn Fleet in Gulltown in the Vale will join forces.

Enemies to the West. And if they invade through the Sunset Sea, they’d have to pass the Iron Islands, where Yara Greyjoy’s Fleet will intercept them, with the help of the Mallister Fleet in Seagard.

Who would win depends. The only other person that’s probably as good as Euron at sea is his niece, Yara. The rest of Dany’s fleet would have to get lucky or outnumber the number of ships in a fleet.

At this point, you’ll probably be like, oh, what if they steer clear from the fleets and enter the North’s weakly defended areas? Okay, that job falls to the castles nearest to their borders. The northernmost castle is the Last Hearth, the seat of House Umber, which is practically already deserted. On the south is Greywater Watch, which has the strongest defense out of all four cardinal directions. On both east and west hold the seat of two branches of House Flint, with Widow’s Watch on the east, and Flint’s Finger on the west (Again, refer to the map above). Once they see Cersei’s fleet, they’ll inform the people in Winterfell.

People tend to forget that Daenerys has the only air support with her dragons. So when she hears about this, she’ll easily burn the enemy fleet with one dracarys away.

That is, if Qyburn hadn’t installed that big-ass crossbow in one of the ships, then she’ll have to be better at dodging them. It gets better if Jon’s willing to help her with Rhaegal, but we’ll never know.

OUTNUMBERED AND SURROUNDED

The map shows the Crownlands and its neighboring kingdoms of the Vale, the Riverlands, the Reach, and the Stormlands. (Source: pinterest.com)

Territories. With Cersei sacrificing Casterly Rock to tighten her grip on the Iron Throne, she technically had also sacrificed the Westerlands, which meant everything north of King’s Landing is Dany’s territory now. With Dany’s army and territories secured, the Crownlands, where King’s Landing is, is technically surrounded by the Vale, the Riverlands, the Reach, and Stormlands. I included the Reach because, well, she roasted the Tarlys and took the remaining men to her cause with a choice, bend the knee or die in a blaze of glory.

Armies. Dany has the combined armies of North, Vale, Riverlands, Westerlands, Reach, Stormlands, and maybe Dorne, plus, the Unsullied; fleets of the North, Vale, Riverlands, and Yara’s fleet from the Iron Islands; and the only air support, her two remaining dragons. Cersei on the other hand, just had the army of the Crownlands, King’s Landing’s City Watch, the queensguard, plus, the Golden Company without elephants; and Euron Greyjoy’s fleet.

I think it’s obvious that Dany outnumbers Cersei’s army, by a lot. And at this point, Dany has enough allies to lay a siege on King’s Landing.

DAENERYS VS. CERSEI

Let’s discuss the difference in the personalities and motives of Daenerys Targaryen and Cersei Lannister.

They both have blond hair, are the only girl among three siblings, and are queens in their own right. But that’s where their similarities end.

Cersei currently sits on the iron throne, and she is loving the perks that came with it. Endless Power, which meant she can do whatever she wants and not care about what people think, like sleeping with her brother. With the news of Dany coming back to Westeros, she sees her as a threat and wanted nothing more than for Dany to disappear so she could stay in power.

Daenerys, however, claims that being the queen of the seven kingdoms is her birthright, as it was the Targaryens that reunited the whole continent of Westeros. Of course, it’s still power, but at the same time, she sees it as a responsibility as well. (With great power, comes great responsibility. Wow, I’m quoting Spiderman now.) She believes that as a queen, it’s her job to take care and provide for the needs of her subjects and even makes an effort to hold court as she listened to their demands. She also thinks that slavery is a big no-no, so she freed them.

The key to becoming a great leader is finding the balance between being loved and feared by your subjects. Cersei is more likely feared than loved. She also doesn’t care about her people, a fact that she admitted to her brother, Tyrion once. Daenerys most likely had the scale tips on balance, with her being equally loved and feared by her subjects. She’s loved because she actually takes time to listen to the people’s needs, and feared because she could take you out using her dragons with one word.

If Dany did lay siege on King’s Landing (again, we aren’t counting her major mad queen moment), the only thing Cersei can use against Dany is the people living within the city walls. Cersei might have heard that Dany’s been freeing slaves in the cities surrounding Slaver’s Bay, and figured out that she has a soft spot for the common folk.

In conclusion, if Daenerys had simply waited out and took her time planning and gathering allies and supplies against Cersei, she would’ve been successful in her campaign to retake Westeros. But then again, we aren’t the writers for this show. In the end, they had Jon battling through himself while he chooses to reply with either of his two favorite lines, She’s my queen or I don’t want it. Or that Sansa and Arya doesn’t like Dany at all and think that she’s a power-hungry, dragon-riding bitch. Or that Bran doesn’t give a f*ck about anything. So, yeah. What do you guys think?

[disgruntledspacedad]

The White Room

The Better Love Series || Join My Tags

a sequel to Shit Hits the Fan

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Ears). Part of the Better Love ‘verse.

summary: Bill Stechner makes his move. You never even saw it coming.

words: 6.1k

warnings: 18+, plot, a little angst, a little fluff. 

notes: unbeta’d. this is a big one. notes at the end.

<< Shit Hits the Fan || These Hands are Magic >>

MASTERLIST

You take the embassy steps two at a time, wishing you’d have been notified about the change in your schedule just half an hour earlier.

You’d gotten a page just as you were headed out the door of the apartment. Stechner has decided to pull you from Centra Spike’s night flight over Medellín. He wants you at headquarters this evening instead. He didn’t say why. 

Part of you isn’t sorry. Escobar has been getting desperate lately, and between the outbreaks of violence in Medellín and the continued bombing campaign in Bogotá, you’ve been burning the candle at both ends. Javi, too. He’s been spending more and more time at the base in Medellín, and you’ve been spending more and more time in the skies, pulling random shifts through all hours of the day and night. 

It hasn’t put a strain on your relationship, exactly. In fact, in some ways, the little moments that you steal with Javi when your schedules just happen to mesh are all the more precious because of it. You’re both exhausted and a little cranky, but there’s been an underlying desperation to your recent interactions that’s only served to stoke the flame that flickers between you. 

It’s a bittersweet feeling. You cherish the time you get together, but on the other hand, it seems like even when Javi’s right there next to you, you miss him so much that your chest aches.

Which is why you’re miffed that Bill couldn’t have shuffled you around a little sooner. Javi’s been in Medellín for the past two days. He’d caught an early flight back to Bogotá just as you’d been finishing up another late shift flyover. You’d just happened to run into him at the embassy airstrip, a perfect coincidence. Your eyes had met over the tarmac, and like a pair of magnets, you’d crashed into one another. Javi had wrapped you into a fierce hug, and you’d pulled him into a heated kiss, and the two of you had spent a good five minutes canoodling in a hidden corridor near the water fountains, kissing and whispering and grappling for position as he’d pinned you against the wall. He’d breathed you in, and you’d reveled in the taste of him on your lips, each of you pressing frantically against the body of the other as if it had been weeks and not mere days since you’d been together. 

“I’ve got to go,” Javi had apologized into your mouth, breathing the words between a series of soft, desperate kisses. “Fucking… fucking early meeting with Martinez.”

“It’s okay, baby,” you’d reassured him, feeling very much like it wasn’t okay. You hardly get enough of him as it is. This tiny little taste had only deepened your aching need, and you’d felt your heart splitting in two as he’d pulled away from you, a small little grimace of frustration twisting his face. 

“I’ll see you soon,” you’d called as he’d hurried away, and he’d responded with a tight lipped smile and another dark look of longing. 

Now, you round the corridor toward the DEA office, walking as quickly as you can without drawing attention to yourself. Javi is working late again. If you hurry, you’ll have twenty five uninterrupted minutes with him before your night shift starts. 

“Ears!” You stop in your tracks, a little shudder of resentment flashing down your spine at Bill’s overeager greeting. “Just the lady I’ve been waiting to see.”

You school your face into a neutral expression of polite interest. Most days, you like Bill just fine, despite the fact that you really don’t trust him for shit. 

Today, damn him straight to hell.

“What’s up?” you ask, quirking your lips into an intrigued little grin. There’s a certain informality and blasé banter that Bill’s grown to expect from your encounters, and he’s sharp enough to sense that something’s off if you don’t perform.

“Oh, loads and loads,” Bill says, leaning casually against the corridor wall with his arms folded. 

You bite back a sigh. You really, really don’t have the patience to dance around him today. “Oh, really?”

Bill arches a questioning brow at you, and you remind yourself to be convincing, dammit. Usually, this isn’t an issue. Most days, you like your job, and your boss, just fine. 

Most days. 

“You’re bored, aren’t you, Ears?” Bill continues, pitching his voice deep, those probing eyes piercing straight through you.

“I -” you start. Bored isn’t how you’d describe it, lately.

Tired, more like. 

“No, no,” Bill’s expression is patient, endearing. “Don’t deny it. I’ve been watching you. I know that hungry look when I see it. You want more. You came to Colombia to do something important with your life, I can tell.”

Six months ago, hell, even three months ago, Bill’s words would have been true. Now, the very thought of more is enough to send you crawling into bed and sleeping for a week. 

‘Isn’t tracking down Pablo Escobar pretty fucking important?’ you’re half tempted to ask. You hold your tongue.

Obviously, it’s not to Bill Stechner.

“What do you have for me?” you say instead, hoping you sound intrigued, carefully not confirming or denying Bill’s suspicions. 

“Real work,” Bill says with a sharp smile. Something cold jolts down your spine at the his use of the word ‘real.’ 

As if everything until now has been a sham.

“Follow me,” he beckons, and you have no choice but to obey.

Bill leads you past the DEA offices. You catch a glimpse of the top of Javi’s head from the corner of your eye. He’s hunched over his desk, pouring over an open manilla file. You can barely see the deep furrow in his brow. He doesn’t notice you pass by, and you don’t pause to acknowledge him.

Something throbs in your chest at that.

You follow Bill through a few more winding corridors, down into the basement, past Centra Spike’s room, right up to an unassuming little bookcase built into a nondescript wall in the middle of nowhere. 

Bill pauses here, turning to look at you with shining eyes. 

You meet his stare, giving away nothing. 

With an enthusiasm that borders on theatrical, Bill huddles over a little keypad that’s tucked away at the edge of the bookcase. He punches in a series of numbers, glancing over to confirm that you’re still watching. 

You definitely are.

Bill steps back, and like something from an Indiana Jones film, the entire fucking bookcase slides aside, reveling a reinforced steel door built into the wall. 

“Whoa,” you can’t help but breathe.

Bill’s eyes glitter. He’s eating this up, impressing you. 

And truly, you’re impressed. That little spark of interest that had died in the past months of your burnout has flared with a vengeance. 

This is the shit that you joined the CIA for, and Bill Stechner knows it. 

“Welcome to the white room, Ears,” Bill announces lowly. It’s the soft, knowing voice of a man sharing a deeply guarded secret. He opens the steel door with a flourish, and it swings slowly aside, heavy and creaking, as if its weight alone could announce the gravity of what you’re about to see. 

Carefully, you step inside the room, ducking a little to avoid knocking your head against the low hanging doorway, crawling past the steel corridor entrance before you can straighten.

You blink, astounded at what you’re seeing.

Of course, you’ve heard whispers of CIA’s fabled “White Room,” a repository of classified files tucked away somewhere in the embassy basement. Even Javi’s mentioned it a couple of times, always with a hint of resentment, like he’d give his left arm for even a glimpse inside. Rumor is, Steve Murphy’s been in here before, but just once, and he was heavily supervised the entire time. It’s a fucking goldmine of intel, stacks upon stacks of carefully organized file folders, all at the fingertips of the few individuals who are important enough to be need-to-know. 

“Okay,” you whisper beneath your breath, taking it all in. Reality is a little different than you’d pictured. The entrance is impressive, sure, but what you’re staring at is even more so. Box after carefully labelled box is packed atop one another, stacked six deep on a never-ending series of steel shelves. 

You could spend an eternity here learning all of the secrets of Colombia. The implications are mind-boggling, and distantly, you wonder how many other well-hidden rooms the CIA has tucked away across a spread of foreign countries, a never-ending fountain of secrets related to god-knows-what.

Your brain stutters at the thought.

You realize suddenly that Bill is watching you carefully from the corner of his eye, observing your reaction as if he’s surreptitiously taking notes on every thought that flits across you brain. Again, you school your expression, reverting to that practiced, dead-eyed stare of careful neutrality. 

“Cool,” you say, a little breathlessly, knowing that Bill’s eager to wow you, and not seeing any reason not to acknowledge the fact that, yeah, you’re pretty fucking wowed. You turn to face him, ignoring the temptation to sweep your gaze over the many, many labeled files at your eye level. “So, what are we doing here?”

Bill laughs. “I’ll show you.” He leads you past the shelves, and now that you’re behind him, you can’t stop your eyes from tracking over the labels at your eye level. You’re appalled by what you see. 

Shelves upon shelves devoted to Escobar, and even more to the Cali Cartel, all broken down into sections of the individual godfathers. Rodriguez, Herrera, Bejarano, Moncado are all names that catch your eye. There are folders on each major sicario that you recognize from Javi’s info board: Mosquera, Lucumí, Vásquez, Gaviria... the list goes on. Even more files files are labeled Castaño. There’s a whole series of boxes on M-19, and a little past that, an entire shelf devoted solely to FARC. 

It’s more than your mind can possible comprehend in one quick sweep, and hell, that’s just what you could catch at eye level. 

It occurs to you that this is what Steve and Javi are always bitching about. Sure, you’re aware of the ever present pissing contest between the DEA and the CIA, but it’s always been peripheral information to you. Steve in particular is pretty vocal about his frustration with the ‘fucking CIA.’ “Goddamn file’s so redacted that it might as well be scrap,” you can just hear him muttering. 

Christ, if this is the kind of intel that the CIA has open access too, you can kind of see his point. 

Bill stops at a table in the center of the room, indicating it with a sweep of his hand. Reluctantly, you sit, a little annoyed that you’ve got your back to him now, but not feeling comfortable enough to twist around to track what he’s doing. Your instincts are screaming at you that this is a test. A big one. So you wait demurely in your tiny plastic chair, your hands folded primly in your lap, listening intently as Bill shuffles for something behind you.

After a long moment, Bill leans his hip heavily against the table, just a hair too close to your shoulder for you to be totally comfortable. You don’t have time to think on that, though, because he’s sliding a black and white photograph under your nose for you to view.

The man that leers up at you has a pinched face beneath a deep brow. His nose is long and lopsided, as if it’s been broken at least once. His thinning, limp hair hangs low over his eyes, giving him a mysterious, almost rebellious look. His mouth is wide, crooked teeth exposed in an open-mouthed grimace. He’s angling toward the camera, obviously unaware of its existence, leaning forward with a machine gun cradled to his chest.

“Feo,” you say instantly, your mouth working before your brain can catch up. You recognize him from the evidence board in the DEA office, and even more from your conversations with Javi. 

Feo is a low level sicario, one that’s just now caught the attention of Search Bloc, mostly due to the recent chatter that Centra Spike has picked up. You’ve yet to get a positive ID on his voice, but he’s been mentioned in several conversations lately, always in reference to ‘drops.’

Javi’s been working deep in the night to decipher these conversations, eager to learn what ‘drops’ Escobar and his sicarios are so desperate to come by.

“Feo,” Bill drawls, a hint of something sharp licking at his tone. You glance up at him, curious. “That’s an unfortunate nickname.”

He’s staring down at you with eyes that are too aware. Probing, assessing. 

Fuck.

“I’ve seen him on the DEA board,” you explain, grateful that you can provide an answer so quickly. You don’t like the way Bill is looking at you, like he’s daring you to confess a sin. 

“I didn’t realize there were many photos of him floating around,” Bill says casually. But you aren’t stupid. You read the threat in his statement, loud and clear.

“It’s a new one,” you reply automatically, feeling as if you’re scrambling to claw yourself out of a hole. 

But this is also true. Feo has been an ongoing mystery to Search Bloc, one that they haven’t taken seriously until recently. You wonder what it is about this man that’s got Bill so on edge. 

Bill hums. “Good eye.”  He hunches over the photograph, so close that you can feel his body heat against your neck. 

“This is Raul Manriquez.” Bill taps the forehead of the man in the photograph, then turns to leer at you. “Apparently, he’s known to his friends as Feo.”

He’s watching you for a sign. You refuse to give it.

“So,” you ask after a beat. Bill folds his arms across his chest, waiting for you to continue. He’s not giving any signs either, the dickwad. “What does the CIA want with Raul Manriquez?” 

Bill has never behaved this way with you before. There’s a certain weight to the way he regards you that hints at paranoia. He’s deeply, almost obsessively interested in this man, and it doesn’t make sense. 

Feo is a sicario, sure. But sicarios are far, far below Bill’s pay grade. The thought is laughable, even.

Something drops in your stomach. If Feo is more than a sicario, as it seems he must be, then it is far, far above your pay grade to be this involved.

Bill pulls out a chair beside you and sits heavily. He leans on his elbow, swinging his legs so that his knees brush your thighs. 

You echo him, carefully positioning yourself so that you’re facing one another, but no longer touching.

“We have intel to suggest that Raul Manriquez is connected with a Russian weapons ring,” Bill starts. You notice for the first time that he looks tired, too, his eyes a little bloodshot, heavy bags dropping darkly beneath them. 

Something clicks in your brain. “He’s Pablo’s weapons guy,” you breathe. The pieces fall together with startling clarity. The drops that the sicarios had mentioned. The fact that Feo seems to stay at the periphery of things, not nearly as involved with the day-to-day bullshit that other sicarios seem to thrive on. “He’s running guns.”

“Among other things,” Bill drawls, seeming thoroughly bored by the turn in the conversation.

You ignore that. Your thoughts are spinning wildly, forging connections, solving problems. Escobar’s got to get his weapons from somewhere. In the back of your mind, you’ve always sort of known this, but the significance of it has stayed firmly out of sight, swamped by other things that, at the time, had seemed far more important. 

But if you could catch Feo… If you could choke off Pablo’s lethality directly at the source…

“We could end this,” you whisper, sitting up to look Bill directly in the eye. Your voice rises. “Bill, if we neutralize Feo, Escobar’s lost his access to his guns.” Something swoops in your heart, and you feel brighter, more energized than you have in weeks. “We can end this war!”

“Oh, the fucking drug war.” Bill scoffs, waving his hand in a casual gesture of lazy dismissal. He looks frustrated, disappointed. “Ears, broaden you horizons a little, sister. Escobar is on the run. When he’s gone,” Bill leans in, the glint in his eye damned near dangerous. “And he will be gone, Ears, trust me.” He huffs a deep sigh, shaking his head as he pitches away to balance on the far feet of his chair, rocking back and forth in a way that reminds you of a restless kid in a elementary school classroom. His eyes are sharp, possessive as they pin yours. “What then?”

You stare at him flatly, a little miffed to have nearly a year of your life’s work brushed aside as if it’s just petty bullshit. 

You shake that emotion away, blinking hard, reminding yourself of where you are, of who your boss is. With the lines as blurred as they are in Colombia, and your unique position dancing between Centra Spike, the DEA, and the CIA, and Search Bloc, it’s easy to forget that ultimately, it’s Bill Stechner who owns you.

For the first time, that thought deeply unsettles you.

Bill falls forward heavily on his elbows, looking at you with a furrowed brow, and you remind yourself for the umpteenth time that this meeting is a performance, one that you’ve utterly and completely bombed until now.

You brain spins, processing the little bits and pieces of information that you’ve been given. Bill sees Escobar’s fall as in inevitability, inconsequential, even. He’s concerned about Feo in the context that he’s connected to the weapons trade in Colombia. 

Quickly, you consider what you know about Bill Stechner. A CIA big wig with a shady-ass military background. A man who’s mind lives in the future. 

A future without Escobar. He’s made that much clear.

“You’re looking to fill a power vacuum,” you announce suddenly, knowing instinctively that you’re not far off the mark. Bill Stechner is a man who is always thinking ahead, studying the political chessboard to analyze his next move, and the one after that, too.

And that truth bomb jars free even more thoughts that have been floating untethered in the back of your mind. When he’s not skulking around his office, Bill is gone for weeks at a time, supposedly off in depths of the amazonian jungle, brushing shoulders with his right winged military buddies. 

Commie hunting.

The pieces fall perfectly into place, painting a sobering picture, and all the while, Bill watches, a sharp little grin playing at his lips as you connect the dots. 

“Bill,” you say, refusing to accept any bullshit. You thump your finger hard against Feo’s leering smirk, pinning Bill with a dark stare. “Is this guy connected with FARC?”

Both of Bill’s brows arch skyward, and he leans back, looking at you with a new light in his eyes. You get the impression that once again, you’ve impressed him. 

You’re not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

“I don’t know, Ears,” Bill admits, glancing away to his hands, which are suddenly curling into fists in his lap. You can tell it really grinds his gears, the uncertainty. “That’s what I want to find out.” 

You consider him carefully, keeping your face expressionless. This is the most open response you’ve ever gotten from Bill, and you file away that information along with everything else you’ve learned today.

It’s a lot.

“What do you need from me?” 

It’s a valid question. Part of you, the part that is equally intrigued and enraptured by Bill Stechner and the CIA as a whole, genuinely wants to help. 

The rest of you is just desperate to get out of this room.

Bill’s lips slide into a knowing smirk. “Well, Ears,” he drawls, eyeing you in a way that makes something sink in your gut. “I’m glad you asked.”

“I’m listening.” You deliberately leave off the ‘sir,’ that you’re tempted to tack on to the end of that statement. Damn your army background.

“This is the moment that we’ve put you in place for,” Bill confesses, hunching forward on his elbows. Again, you get the impression that he’s trying to reel you in, seducing you with a show of honesty. 

You brace yourself. 

“The DEA is interested in this man, too,” Bill starts, shooting you a pointed look that says ‘I know you already know this.’ You keep your face carefully blank, so Bill continues. “I know that they’ve been working to track his location.”

Something cold coils in your heart. “Are you asking me to spy on Search Bloc?” you ask point blank. 

Bill shakes his head. “No, no, no, Ears,” he chides with an expression of extreme patience, as if you’re a child to him. “That would be counterproductive. We’re all on the same team, after all.” He pins you with a dead-eyed stare that sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m asking you to fully engage in your position with the CIA.” Bill stresses the last point, again reminding you of who you are, who you answer to. “You’re a liaison.” He hums a little, all casual disinterest, disarming you, reinforcing the bonds of loyalty that he’s forged with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “So, liaise.”

You realize with a starling, icy jolt of clarity that Bill Stechner has tolerated your relationship with Javier Peña for this very reason, that he’s garnered your favor - accepting your transfer request, giving you a raise, buying you drinks, playing your buddy - all in preparation for using you as his own personal mole in the ranks of Search Bloc.

And you’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

Your throat works hard to swallow against a suddenly dry mouth. “I understand, sir.” 

For the first time, Bill doesn’t correct your formality. You hardly notice the shift, though. You’re still reeling from the implications of what he’s asking of you, of how he’s exploited you, taken advantage of all of your vulnerabilities.  Suddenly, you feel as if you’re choking, like a noose is tightening, tightening around your neck. You have to stop yourself from reaching to massage your throat, clenching your hands into tight firsts into your lap instead.

Bill watches it all in cool amusement. “Atta girl,” he praises, and you swear you taste bile. He stands, and you copy him absently, feeling detached and awkward, walking on legs that require all of your attention to keep from trembling. 

Bill claps a heavy hand on your shoulder. His eyes flash with something like pride, and you decide in that moment that you hate him, this motherfucker, almost as much as you hate yourself for falling for his bullshit. 

Goddammit, you’re so fucking stupid.

“Good talk,” he says, and you nod in a way that you hope is contemplative without being telling.

You follow Bill out of the room on wooden legs, your mind spinning with the implications of your conversation. He nods to you as the bookshelf slides shut behind you, and you nod back, relieved to see that he turns to head the opposite direction from the DEA office. 

You glance down at your watch. You’ve got ten minutes if you hurry. With all your heart, you hope that Javi is still working. 

You need to see him.

You push past his glass door, swinging it open hard enough that it bangs ominously against the wall. Javi is still slumped over his desk in the exact same position as before, studying a jumbled series of papers, a half-spent cigarette dangling from his lips.

Your breath catches at the sight of him. 

His head snaps up at your noisy arrival, dark eyes narrowed at the intrusion. His expression softens when he sees that it’s you. 

“Ears.” His voice is a sigh, a release of that same tension that you feel leaking from you own bones, and you dart forward, heedless of who might be watching beyond the glass walls.

“Hey,” you say, shoving aside an opened manilla folder to create a bare space for you to lean against. Javi doesn’t seem to mind that in the least, so you flop up onto his desk, pressing your thigh against his elbow, enjoying the feeling of just sharing the same space.

Javi glances at you, and your something lurches in your chest as you take him in. He looks haggard, exhausted, dark bags gathered beneath his bloodshot eyes like he hasn’t had good night’s sleep in far too long. 

“Another little chat with Stechner?” he grouses, peering up at you with narrow gazed suspicion. 

Your heart sinks, and you have to blink hard against the onslaught of his ire. Javi’s always been grouchy when he’s tired, and there’s nothing that drives him into a funk faster than any mention of Bill Stechner. It’s as if he has a sixth sense in that regard, like he can smell Bill on your skin. 

And that’s a gross thought.

Until now, Javi’s attitude had irked you, and you’d written it off as petty, just another brand of that delightfully obnoxious possessiveness that he’s continuously displayed since your apartment was bombed.

But dammit, you’re the moron here, not Javi. He’d been right not to trust Bill.

You shut your eyes tightly. You wonder if Javi should even trust you, given your most recent assignment. 

“Please don’t,” you whisper, not knowing how to put your many worries into words, and Javi must read your conflicted mood, because he lets the subject drop. He huffs, his attention falling back to the open file on his desk, his long fingers working little tapping patterns into its intricate woodgrain.

You follow his gaze, noticing that he’s been pouring over the same photograph that Bill had shown you in the white room. Feo’s ugly mug leers back at you, a knowing, secretive smirk playing at his upturned lips, like he’s mocking you, the motherfucker.

A flood of emotions swamp you. You’ve watched Javi squinting down at this same photo for days, his mind spinning as he attempts to tease out connections, completely stumped as to how this unassuming, ugly man fits into the bigger picture of Pablo Escobar and his sicarios. 

And now you know, but there’s not a damn thing you can say about it. Bill’s going to be watching you. Hell, he’d admitted as much today. Verbatim. If he thinks that his little spy is sharing classified CIA intel with her DEA boyfriend… 

Well, honestly, you’re not sure what would happen. You just know that it would be bad news for you, and probably even worse for Javi.

You release a deep, broken sigh, exhaling though your nose. You wonder how you’re going to balance it all, working for Bill without betraying Javi.

Well, you absolutely refuse to do that. Fuck Bill Stechner for even asking.

But now, watching Javi huddled over his messy desk, squinting in the dim light because he refuses to wear his fucking glasses, frazzled and careworn and a little cranky, something pulls at your chest. 

Refusing to share this intel feels a lot like a betrayal already, and suddenly, you’re desperate to confess it all to him, to crawl into Javi’s lap and spill your guts and cry and beg for his forgiveness for blowing off his concerns about Stechner, for even entertaining the thought of withholding information from him.

Just as you feel like you’re ready to burst, Javi sighs deeply, flopping the file shut. He grinds out  his cigarette and turns to glance at you, his eyes dark with need. 

Your breath catches.

Then, without a word, Javi pitches forward to rest his head against your thigh. He nuzzles there for a moment, and you find yourself carding your fingers through his hair, helpless against the temptation to touch him, comfort him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs after a long moment.

“Shh,” you whisper. Guilt gnaws at you. You’re the one who should be sorry. 

But Javi huffs a hot little breath against your leg, and you brush aside all thoughts of who should trust who, of loyalty and ethics and treason and chain of command. Right now, your entire universe is resting his head in your lap, and you’re determined to enjoy this moment, fallout be damned. 

“Baby,” he murmurs into the rough denim of your jeans, and your heart flutters. You bring your opposite hand to rest at the back of his neck, savoring the softness of his skin there, winding your fingers through the curls that brush against his collar.

Javi shudders at your touch, and you remember belatedly that you’re stroking at his number one erogenous zone, teasing him mercilessly without meaning him to. 

Reluctantly, you pull away, resting your palm at the slope of his shoulder instead. “Whoops.”

Javi snorts, craning his neck just enough to arch his only visible eyebrow in your direction. The rest of his face is squished into your thigh.

It’s fucking adorable, and it reminds you all over again how little you deserve him, this precious, perfect man. 

“What’s wrong?” Javi asks, like he’s sensed the direction of your thoughts. He twists further to frown up at you. One hand comes up to rest at the juncture of your hip, his thumb pressing deeply into your skin. 

It’s a comfort. 

“Nothing,” you mutter, because you can hardly say ‘everything.’ You busy yourself with working little circles at the base of Javi’s ear, hoping it’s enough to distract him from his line of questioning. 

 It’s not. Javier Peña has a mind like a steel trap, and he notices everything. “Bull,” he breathes, shutting his eyes despite his best efforts. “You’re worried ‘bout something.”

God, he looks wrecked. 

“I just…” You struggle for the right words to to offer him, come up empty. “God, I hate this.”

That one dark eyes flutters open again, soft with concern. 

“I miss you,” you blurt before he can dig any further. And oh, god, that’s not a lie. You miss Javi so much it fucking burns, even with him nuzzled right here in your lap.

Javi draws a deep breath, rolling over to expose the entire left side of his face. His opposite arm comes up to wrap around your waist so that he’s almost hugging you, his fingers digging gently into your flank. “What time is your shift over, baby?” he mumbles, his one visible eye glinting, nearly feverish with need. 

“Mmm,” you hum, your pulse hammering away in response to the how he’s looking at you. “I can probably be home by eight,” you say sadly. 

And really, that’s pushing it. It all depends on what you hear over the frequencies, and how quickly you can vet it. Anybody’s guess at this point in the game.

Javi blusters a deep sigh that prickles hotly at your inner thigh. “Dammit,” he groans, clenching his eyes shut in frustration.

“What’s your morning like?” In the craziness of the past few days, you’ve completely forgotten his schedule. 

“Early,” Javi mutters darkly. He doesn’t look at you.

“Fuck.” 

“Hardly,” he pouts against your jeans.

And god, you can’t blame him. Resentment wells hot in you. You just want a break, dammit, just a single fucking day to spend with the man you love. 

Is that so much to ask?

Suddenly desperate for more contact, you bend down to drop a gentle kiss at his temple. 

Javi inhales sharply as your lips meet his skin, and you lay there like that, contorting over him in a way that makes your sides ache and probably displays half of your bare back to anybody who happens to walk past the glass walls of the DEA office right now. 

You don’t fucking care. You need this. 

“Can I meet you for lunch tomorrow?” you ask as you finally pull away. You haven’t bothered glancing at your watch, but instinct is telling you that you’re already running late for your shift, and your back is killing you.

Javi sits up, slumping against his office chair with his legs splayed sideways. He’s all wild hair and furrowed brow, and if you weren’t at work, you’d be tempted to crawl into his lap and kiss that contemplative look right off his face.

“That might work,” he says slowly, licking his upper lip a little in that way that means he’s thinking hard. Something coils deep in your belly, and you have to shake your thoughts away from those lips and that tongue, and what all they’re capable of. 

Javi cocks a brow at you, tilting his head a little. “What are you thinking?”

Fuck it, it’s late. You slide off his desk, planting yourself in his lap with your legs spread across his, grinding subtly against his thighs. His belt buckle digs into your belly, but you don’t give a shit. You tilt his face to yours, reveling for half a second in his confused, awestruck expression before you plant your lips on his for a deep, gentle kiss. Javi moans a little at the contact, plaint and responsive against your advances, his hands coming to graze at your back reverently. 

“I was thinking I’d ride,” you whisper against the stubble at his lower jaw just as you lean in to suck at it. 

Javi twitches against you, a tiny jolt of his hips, like he’s tempted to take you right here in his rickety office chair, damn the glass walls. 

“I need to see your face,” you continue, pulling his hands up to rest at your ribs as you rock gently against him, a subtle preview of tomorrow’s menu.

Javi shudders beautifully beneath you. “What, this ol’ thing?’ he teases, nuzzling against your breastbone. You can tell that he’s pleased by the thought. 

“This pretty thing,” you correct, working your way back to his lips. 

Javi bites back a groan as you kiss him. “Was asking about food,” he murmurs against your mouth. “But this is better.” 

“Don’t worry about food,” you say, falling forward to nuzzle against his neck. “I’ll take care of it. And it will be perfect.”

Javi snorts. “Better be takeout, then.” He gathers you against his body with strong arms, cradling you close. You breathe him in, reveling in the distant smell of coffee and stale cigarette, all mixed in with a hint of musky sweat and something smoky and dark that is uniquely Javier Peña. 

“God, baby, I’m looking forward to it,” he confesses against the hollow of your throat, and you throw your head back, shut your eyes and let him ravage you there, just for a moment. 

Javi pulls away far too soon, and you shudder at the loss of him, your body damn near trembling with need. 

He rolls back in his chair, glancing up at you with an apology in his eyes. “It’s eight oh five,” he tells you somberly, and you wince, disentangling yourself from him, stumbling out of his chair and straightening your shirt and threading your fingers through your wild hair in an effort to smooth it down. 

“How do I look?” you ask after a moment, backing up enough to give him the full effect of you. 

Javi’s eyes are burning as he takes you in, damn near shimmering with want and exhaustion and pent up emotion, and you curse Bill Stechner once again for butting his big nose into your relationship, for complicating things that should be so fucking simple.

“Perfect,” Javi says lowly, his lips pursed into a thin line, his eyes glittering with some thought that you can’t name. “Fucking perfect.”

Something wrenches in your chest, and you catch your breath, feeling tears prickle at your eyes. You suck them down, frustrated at how often life in Colombia seems to draw your emotions to the forefront. 

Nobody needs that. 

You lean forward, unable to resist dropping one last, chaste kiss to Javi’s forehead. “Go to bed, Javi,” you whisper against his skin. You pull away, a gentle, teasing smile spreading across your face. “Seriously, baby. It’s just getting stupid now.”

You wink at him, and Javi huffs a little laugh. “Get out of here, Ears,” he grouses, waving a lazy hand at you, but his smile is gentle and soft, and you know that he’s recognized the reference for what it is.

Feeling lighter than you have in days, you shoot him one last cheeky wave. Javi blows a little kiss at you in response, and your heart stutters at the gesture. 

God, he’s such a sap.

You damn near dance to the Centra Spike office, slipping into your headphones a full ten minutes later than you really should. Nobody bats an eyelash, though, and you busy yourself with the normal nightshift bullshit, sipping your coffee and switching to the proper frequencies, the promise of tomorrow glowing in your heart. 

♠

notes/confessions:

I struggled so hard with this. I still don’t love it, but I’m sick of looking at it, so here ya go. Enjoy.

Okay, I know I have thrown some massive plot things at you this week. I know it’s complicated, and I know it’s a lot. Feel free to ask me questions. I’ve tried to make things as clear as possible, but I’m only human, Narcos is complicated af anyway, and Better Love is even worse, probably. 

Look for updates to slow back down again, because a) I actually do have a job, and b) we’re getting close to the point where I’m going to have to start posting If I Fall, and I want to have my chapters outlined a little better and maybe even a few deep before I do that. Look for a few little fluffy one-shots scattered between then and now, but guys... for the most part, the pieces are in place, and we are in the home stretch - of the setup, that is. 

Holy fucking shit.

Tags:  @jedi-mando, @perropascal, @hotspacepilots, @mostly-megan, @starlight-starwrites​, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty, @lv7867, @pascalisthepunkest, @sarahjkl82-blog, @corrupt-fvcker, @artsymaddie, @leonieb, @justanotherblonde23, @princess-and-pedro

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh, @1800-fight-me, @mandoandgrogu, @hybrid-in-progress, @va-guardianhathaway, @speakerforthedead0, @feminist-violinist, @herefortheart, @dontmindifidontt, @blo0dangel 

[prof-peach]

If you could cross over two of your favorite games, which would you choose? Please explain, why that crossover would be a good match.

Oh you’re going to regret asking this one, I’m bout to GET SERIOUS.

So Pokemon, obvs, I love the whole world it’s built in, but the games imo are REALLY boring, I haven’t enjoyed one a lot since gale of darkness, the main ones just are a little too linear obvious plots, pretty standard setups for story and style. Speaking of style, the games lack personality, the models aren’t animated well, moves have no dynamic energy or visual difference at times, and the turn based battle style just feels kind of, I don’t know, old? Slow? Just doesn’t suit what I enjoy personally, gives me a FInal Fantasy vibe and I just cannot stand the speed at which things happen in those games, plus not into 3rd person ‘let’s build a team of people’ much, but that’s a problem for another time. With this all in mind, the game I wish would happen is like gen20 Pokemon, far future sadly, I doubt I’d see it in my lifetime but god I’d be happy if I did!

Ok so take the newest Zelda graphics, the visual treat that was BOTW, open world, puzzles, not JUST combat, you got side missions, hunt the chickens, find missing pets, parcels, items, whatever. Love it! The horse taming?! Amazing you funky little game. Now take the bad guys and beasts from that. And put Pokemon in instead. Give them the diversity, the life and believable natures that BOTW gave the animals, I followed a frog in BOTW for 15 minutes, and it was a great experience, it felt like it was believable. Above world spawning, ACTUAL difficult gameplay, rare spawn rates, make dragons hard to get again, cmon, it’s too easy now, make it so we need a certain set of Pokemon for certain tasks. Water types big enough to carry you will be able to get you to new areas, rock types that can help you climb mountains faster, or break through blocking boulders. Actual towns with more than 4 houses in them, shops, barns, farms, homes. Like little link with the heat, maybe ice types would struggle in volcano areas, or bug Pokemon not be so comfortable in gale force winds. Give the weather more of an effect on your partners. Mounts, don’t even get me started that Pokemon Let’s go had you able to ride any of the larger species, but swsh did not???? Bitch please, give me my rideable Pokemon. The wild area too was far too closed, limited, online was laggy and a mess, camping is limited, let me do more with my team. Pokemon for me is all about the actual creatures, how they live with humans, and the many wonderful things they’re capable of. Yes of course it’s cool they can fight, but like what else you know?

I’d love a game that lets me buy a plot of land, maybe plant things, custom build things. I’m a sucker for the fallout4 settlement builds when they’re modded to hell and back, they’re fun! It can be a really calm and creative process. If I could do that and skip the main campaign and all the battles for a bit? Amazing, it sound perfect for me. I am that distracted hoe collecting flowers while the kingdom burns in the background. Side quests are everything to me. Let me give homeless people enough money to get them in a home? Let me adopt Pokemon that are stray around the town? Plz oh plz bring me a Pokemon game that allows me to work WITH my team to do more than KO other species. I want to save and buy a plow for my buddy gogoat, and grow amazing foods to sell to get currency to spend in decorations, to spoil my team. Give me actual game consequence, if I ignore that sick and injured Pokemon I find in the wild, later maybe it’s family don’t want to help me out with a different problem, too stricken from grief. I am all about the average bits, the old women who need help, the lost pets board in town, the general day to day stuff. Let me get cosmetic items for the Pokemon I keep, cute outfits, special gemstone items, let me actually live with them, or even feel remotely like they’re realistic.

Ok so in game, if it’s looking like BOTW it’s pretty beautiful but also stylised, I’d have it so you can send out a maximum of 3 Pokemon from your 6, using bumpers and such to throw them out. If you hit the trigger you switch from controlling the human trainer, to the Pokemon you’ve targeted with a standard lock on targeting system. You then can be the leader, but be the Pokemon. You could technically defeat the game without a human if you wanted, which incorporates the mystery dungeon games I think, and caters to that crowd. I’d love to see the use of attacks out of battle, things like using water gun to grow plants, using ember to start a campfire faster and stave off the cold. There’s no consequence to Pokemon anymore, and I think that’s where it’s lost me. I have to admit I miss the days of a poisoned pokemon fainting if you don’t heal them soon enough, I miss gym battles that were actually tough, damn, try picking charmander in red and beating brock without grinding in viridian forest first, it’s not easy. And I loved that. Yes it’s a child’s game, it will never be difficult again, but god it’d be nice to have a bit of a challenge, or maybe a difficulty setting, so some could play it with hostility turned off, great for kids, or you can be n adult like I know so many Pokemon fans are, and play it on expert mode and ACTUALLY have to work hard to beat the game. Alternate skill trees anyone? Train gun a fire type to ACUTALLy combat water moves?? Please! Cmon! It frustrated me that every challenger has pretty much a systematic set of moves to use to win. Grass opponent? Fire attack spam until you win. It’s dull, so at least with very difficult tricks to either find or learn in game would make it more achievable if you can send that fire type in and I don’t know, train them so much the heat evaporates the water mid-battle and you suddenly have a shot at winning. Pokemon has taught me that if you work hard enough you can achieve something, but the games just have such strict ways to win. Feels wrong.

In terms of battling, let us BE the Pokemon, let us learn to dodge, train our speed, train our defence, make a team of truly tough Pokemon instead of just, average? Some species have a cap on their skills, a squirtle has lower stat points than a Charizard, but you can’t ever change that? Let me choose the Pokemon I believe in, and let me work with them until they’re just as good, if not better than the game tanks. This would also make online battles more interesting. Everyone picks the top trio. Fairy, dragon, legendaries. And yknow what? It’s boring. That one IRL fight with the monster Pacharisu that won in the world tournament with follow me and the situs Berry? Unbelievable, I love that little rat so much because of this, so let us all have a chance to build a team that’s strategically viable, strong, and potentially a winner formula, even if they aren’t fully evolved, or the biggest Pokemon in the world. Yeah maybe you have to grind way harder with your unevolved Pokemon, but you get to the end game and win, because you put love and time into species that you enjoy, not just good fighters.

Unfortunately I am beholdent to Todd-idiot-Howard, and I love the Eldrescrolls and fallout games (before they got dumb, not that I don’t play the new ones. 76 I’m looking at you, you big asshole game.) honestly I hate online games, so none of that junk, just a good old fashioned open world sandbox game is plenty. Games for me are an escape from others, not an invitation to socialise. To each their own of course, and I do play online games sometimes, just pretty short lived ones, over watch and rdr2 for example. Would they be sometimes better on private servers? Yes of course, fallout76? Want to play with others? No. I do not. Please leave me alone. And if you buy a private server you’re feeding the monster that is Todd Howard, the man the myth the asshole, then we’ll get more bad games like 76. I just so desperately want the Pokemon company to see what a beautiful potential game they’ve got on their hands, that could be suitable for far greater audiences, but instead they’ve focused on the kids. It’s fine, it’s functional, but it’s lost to the fans from day 1, that are all 20+ years old now and want something meatier to play, something far more broad and inclusive. I also hate that there’s no wheelchair option in any Pokemon game. Like cmon, it’s not hard to include that.

In short, BOTW + Pokemon, with a sprinkle of open world sandbox to it, less fighting, more fun. Or, at least both options. Sure, go fight everything, great, but I want to farm carrots over here with 6sunflora, plz let me have some peace.

Edit: I forgot about harvest moon, chuck some of that in there too.

SECOND EDIT: someone in the comments mentioned to put this in Unova? Plz love yourselves, this game would be ALL MAPS. Stuff one singular location, this is the ideal game, put every map in it, join them, put islands in, make them more explorable, more detailed!

[captainsspnanon]

C3E09 liveblog reaction

Did they have the Matrix-esque NordVPN background last time?  I can’t remember, but I am highly entertained by it.

...early episode suspicions, but maybe the whole dire wolf story is fake?  Like, the initial reaction after Fearne’s bluff made me think they were going to say ‘what dire wolf?’

Double nat ones, yes!!!

I LOVE ASHLEY

Gurge = werewolf is confirmed.  Now how are we on the Chetney = werewolf speculation???

I LOVE ASHLEY SO MUCH OH MY GOD

Also SAM is the one to say that accepting sponsorships is selling out OF COURSE HE IS

Dammit, for almost an hour the stream was mostly fine, though I had to watch at 720p instead of 1080p, and now it’s freezing constantly.  I hate my internet.  I kinda wish I could just wait until the youtube upload on Monday, but I’d have to avoid too much internet for too long for me to be willing to do that.  XD

Matt has created a council with secret members.  WHO’S ON THE CHANDEI QUOROM COUNCIL (i’m sure that joke’s already been made a billion times he totally did it on purpose I’m super sure)

I know Liam is wanting to play a character less prominent in the story, so to speak. I wonder if Orym’s backstory tie-in is going to get resolved or mostly resolved fairly early on, allowing him to ride.  Somewhat similar to Fjord, I would think, where most of the Uk’otoa stuff was early on, and the later development for Fjord was heckin’ tons of character growth and change.

With Chetney lying as smoothly as he does, I’m wondering if the whole woodworker bit that Gurge was supposed to help with was false and that it’s he was supposed to help Chetney get in contact with other werewolves?   ….ugh, I feel like I need to stop speculating and just enjoy the ride.  I have mixed feelings about watching this live!!  I’ve heard the rumors about rampant speculation over Caleb being a werewolf, and I’ve already made a fool of myself during the first episode with my fear over a West Marches campaign due to fan speculation.  I also don’t want to get invested in a theory and then be disappointed when it turns out not to be true…

For the record, I now find Ashton to be an utter delight and I am greatly looking forwards to seeing how their story and plot progresses.  Oddly, still the lowest on my ranking though?  Well, tied with FCG.  Which I think is a VERY fucking good sign, because this is me like M9 after Cad, I like ‘em all!!  Looking forwards to reaching the loving them all stage, not there yet.  Will probably need about another ten episodes or so to reach that stage XD

YO CHETNEY WENT INVISIBLE!!!  magic item for being level 4, I’m assuming.  Love the immediate walk-back on hitting Dorian in the face because it would lose the invisibility

The Meal.  Not only it is just a funny bit, but it’s a great deconstruction of Matt’s typically verbose descriptions.

I honestly can’t tell if it’s Sam or FCG who doesn’t understand what was meant by bottle trick.  I feel like it’s Sam?

PRETTY!!!!!  I don’t care if it’s the truth, I’m headcanoning it’s Buddy who renamed himself.  MY HEART  ...there’s GOT to be fan art of this dude, yeah???  TELL ME THERE IS FAN ART

IT’S THE SERVING CART oh god Travis’s reaction MAKES THIS

I both love and hate that Chetney is quickly becoming one of my favorites????  It’s so odd, in C2 I didn’t necessarily vibe so much with Nott’s whole comedic aspect to her and I loved Jester more during her not as over the top moments, but I guess C3 is the comedy campaign for me???  I’m LOVING Chetney and Fearne and Laudna and EVERYONE just feels on the top of their game when they’re cracking jokes.  It’s such a different vibe and I AM HERE FOR IT

PRETTY DESERVES THIS GROUP DATE, OMG

Also, Orym and Ashton work so well as the straight man to this group.  They’re both a bit absurd in their own ways, but they way they straight face so much...I LOVE IT

I didn’t mention it earlier, but is there a REASON that Sam is dressed as the “hello fellow kids” meme??

“Excuse me, ma’am?” oh I feel like it’s been too long since Liam has been a little shit like this.  I love it when he does it!  He just opens the floor for Matt to show off and it’s glorious.

Okay but maple ginger cookies ACTUALLY sound delicious

Once again there’s no real ‘leader’ to the team, which is a constant through all the campaigns and I really enjoy, but I enjoy how much Ashton is really helping move things along.  Not quite leadership, but definitely a leading aspect.  TWO THUMBS UP.

Ashton’s actually be fairly quiet this episode, but the stuff they’ve been doing? Like, I’m REALLY enjoying Ashton now!

….so everyone’s just ignoring Chetney dropping that he was being hunted in some way? Okay.

All this moon lore. Looking forwards to watching What the Sheet and having them freak out about the MOONS.

(not that anyone cares, but my CR ‘aftershows’ are What the Sheet (on Nico Neilson’s channel), The Pixelists, and The Dungeon Coach)

What are these NPCs this episode, I love them so much!!!

RAIN EFFECTS RAIN EFFECTS I LOVE IT SO MUCH

Ehhh...not liking this Taliesin.  Ashton successfully pickpocketed her, but now you’re arguing because you don’t like what she told you you got, and you’re going ‘oh let’s roll, it’s random’ but you’re just going ‘no that’s not good enough I want something better’.  I don’t really like that attitude.  Granted, I’m not that much a fan of the interparty stealing anyway, but that was clearly enjoyed by the table.   This?  Dislike.

Good, I’m glad he gets the chamberpot still.  “it’s only fair” my ass.  Sorry Taliesin, you should have accepted what she said to begin with.  (yes yes, not my table, they’re all cool with it, etc. etc.  My table? Would have told him to stick with the pot because that’s what Ashley said.)

I ADORE how Ashton is just SO DONE with furniture now.  Like, even though they’re probably just playing up the bit with the books, it still feels half true because of how much they are DONE with inanimate objects coming to life.

FIRST MAP FIRST MAP

Chetney MVP this episode???  maybe, but they’ve all been really on point this episode.  The most ‘background’ PCs have been Laudna and Dorian.

As much as I love Nott, I also love a rogue who actually wants to do rogue shit.  XD

NIGHTMARE KING. Yup, I feel like we’re moving past the ‘starting quests’ of a campaign and starting to move into MEAT.

OH MAN WHAT A FUCKING END

@suicidallyreckless