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entropy-mephit · 2 years

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So: this is a dramatic intro for the character backstory of one of my NPCs. Or maybe the beginning of one of my favorite OCs' stories. Both things conceptually are the same, but I don't know if at this point he is more OC or NPC. Woes of game master I guess.

Feilen Alaris knew full well that what he was doing was illegal, the exclusion zone was such for very good reason. He could loose his job and all previously collected research. But on the other hand he prided himself on not giving any fucks about divine mandates and the lab is worth jack shit without new discoveries to fuel his efforts. As head archivist in Brightshore Magic Academy he was one of few people qualified for ruins delving anyways. Not that stuck up bureaucrats would ever sign permits for such attempt.

It seemed almost peaceful, faint wind barely disturbing surface layer of sand, weak enough that Feilen after moment of thought, pulled onto the weave of arcane to summon larger blast of wind to erase footsteps he left behind. It wouldn't do to let someone see tracks and investigate.

The ruins were mostly buried under the sand, only few broken towers clearly marking the area of interest and Feilen knew well it would take fair amount of digging before he can get to anything remaining in more or less functional state.

The sand was getting more stable as Feilen approached remnants of buildings. And then he saw in some distance group of eight people. He stopped in his tracks, almost panicking to not have any way to hide. They stopped as well, staring openly before glancing between each other and changing direction. Right towards him.

Feilen took deeper breath before also moving towards them. He knew how he looked, petite elf man, no weapon on hand, coming all alone. If they weren't idiots they should be expecting powerful mage. Not many people were arrogant enough to travel like this, and all of them had power to back up the bravery. Feilen usually wore attitude of archmage like cloak of protection.

"Good travelers," he spoke first, putting in just a tiny bit of power to make his voice carry to them across the distance, "you should be aware that travel within bounds of the Blood Sands Exclusion Zone is strictly forbidden without official permit from Military Affairs Office signed by at least two members of the High Council. You should consider yourself warned and..."

And they were pulling out weapons. Right, pretending to be on official business clearly didn't work.

Feilen huffed, gathering magic as discreetly as possible with level of power he was pulling under his command. They were too far to stab him before he was done, but obscuring spellcasting helps to make it at least harder to counter.

"I would suggest, rather than suffer unnecessary danger of fight, you would consider cooperating with me to benefit mutually for delving into ruins." He rung magic trough the air, imbuing spell into the words. And he felt it hook into the minds, one, two, five... Three of them had slipped past, but also paused as they see their allies seem to have changed their minds.

Feilen smiles at the outcome. He might have just burned the most magic he had, but he knew enough about ancient ruins... There weren't any active dangers waiting inside. He will not need that power.

"Now, you are surely aware that implications of your presence here are dire, but I am willing to provide some assistance, as long you are willing to help with more physically demanding parts. I know enough about the runes of ancient magic to be able to figure out which ones are truly dangerous and which ones merely defunct, which you would surely find a great boon," he offered with light flourish. Of course, depending on what they are there for and who they are he might end up needing to kill them, but he has few hours to figure it with most of the group magically compelled to see his words in positive light.

His presence saved those bumbling cultists from accidents with forgotten arcana on the way. (Kids just want to learn, that's actually kind of adorable. Feilen absolutely can keep them under control and maybe even take them on the next excursion. That could be nice.)

Most of the damaged arcane constructs luckily just didn't work, but about forty percent have a nasty tendency to explode if activated somehow. He felt more than justified in taking charge, guiding them across the ruins and sharply ordering them around to coordinate efforts in gathering bits of a broken, ancient technology for further study. They even found something looking like an office. The fragile scrolls almost cracked with age as their protective spells had fizzled out. Yet another proof that something had happened to mess up the structure of magic that used to be in place, but it's just confirmation of what Feilen knew for years.

Magic was not what it used to be in age of wonders.

He gently brushed the tips of his fingers against the slightly chipped stone wall thoughtfully, scanning the shape of an empty room, the damaged braziers, the black crystal obelisk dominating the very center of the room, and, on the opposite side of the room, carved suggestion of the arch. That was something that must have been significant.

Feilen looked closely at the floor, looking for any possible arcane sigils that might have been twisted from their original purpose by the shift in magic into a deadly trap.

He stepped forward carefully, just a bit deeper into the room to glance at the wall from a better angle, and there he found them, traces of old spellforms. He only glanced over, without trying to read them yet.

Something he could work to reconstruct.

With a faint smile, he reached into his bag, pulling out notes to copy those findings piece by piece.

Careful to not activate anything by errant touch, he examined the rune where the script should be starting, at the very center of the wall. It was dizzying to look at. Somehow just shape of it brought pain on his head in sharp spike then shooting down his spine.

He stumbled backwards. Closed eyes don't help, the image of shape blares, burned into his retinas. The world is echoing with sickening pain and quivering, then lurching like stormy sea.

Smooth cold surface hits his back, edge digging into his fingers somehow.

Personhood. Human. Elf. Person, identify shape. Self. Perception. Selfperception,humanityawarnespersonpersonself society communication. Language. Awareness.

The concept crashes and echoes off itself, bringing up concept in purest form and washing associated images and connections like waves, one after another. Fascinating.

Curious. Question. Fascinating, more. Knowledge, research, data, information, find, examine, know, more more more curious. Fascinating. Know. Find out. Researchexaminecuriousfindquestion. More.

The sentiment echoed, pulled something closer. Existence. Mind, aware, getting tangled with another. The wave of pure... Thoughts, too much to bear.

Mind body person. Person nice like enjoy companion. Idea together. Existence. Self. Aware. Curious. Person.

Echoing across his head, painfully ringing. It felt like his mind was getting crushed under the weight of that attention.

Then the bunch of carnal sensations, touch, pressure, softness of skin with firm muscle underneath, thick hair brushing between his fingers, shades of skin, pleasant timbre of voice, the close look at an eye, blue-green like a sea, the warmth of a body, the roughness of glistening scales and thundering dragon roar echoing in the bones, claws, nails digging in, teeth gently nipping...

Feilen came crashing down on the floor, right by the obelisk, his head feeling like someone scrapped out inside of his brain with sandpaper. He could feel wetness on his face, warmth dripping out of his ear, and dull pain of impact on the back of his head.

He smiled to himself bitterly. Of course, that's where he gets after confidently marching in, convinced he knew how to delve safely.

#Feilen: complains about bureaucrats‚ also Feilen 5 min later: 'according to article no....'#I'm writing short story here #self fanfiction #or however you call that #there'll be more #my writing

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dickie-gayson · 7 years

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hooooly shit, i just found a wip story from years ago that i completely forgot about. It’s a Fallout New Vegas story involving my courier who is dumb af and basically the hot mess express. after re-reading it, im really tempted to pick it up again

(for anyone curious, the unfinished piece is beneath the cut)

Getting shot in the head, close-range at that, and left in a shallow grave to rot is not exactly Jack's idea of 'fun'. Waking up in some random strangers house, barely able to see through the haze and blur of his foggy mind is not ideal, either. Well, unless he'd been drinking copiously the previous night, then it may be acceptable. It also depends on who's house he wakes up in. Needless to say, it was not an attractive young person. In fact, it was quite the opposite, being an old, withered man. It was a good thing Jack was so preoccupied with the fact that he'd been shot in the head that he didn't stop to contemplate on what level of the ‘shitty morning after’s scale waking up in an old guy's bed would be.

Truth be told, he probably wouldn't have anything to compare it to, seeing as he couldn't exactly recall his drunken flings and drunken flings-turned-mishaps, among other unmentionable occurrences. He couldn't remember because, get this, getting a shot to the brain gave him a case of amnesia. Hell, when Doc Mitchell asked what his name was, it struck him just how shitty his current position was. Really, he didn't even know his real name. He just said 'Jack Wilder' because he thought it sounded badass. For all he knew, his name could actually be Inklebert or something equally as lame. That thought is almost as bad as the other ways he could have ended up in a withered old guy's bed. Almost.

The doc also helped him figure out just what his specialties were. Apparently, he got this neat machine that could test someone's genetics and tell them what they're good at. Jack figured the Old World folks made it as a way to test for deficiencies or if someone is well suited for a particular job field. He was about average in strength and pretty good in endurance, forgetting his easily injured extremities (thanks, genetics), his charisma was great, his agility was good, turns out he's nearsighted, so he needed to wear glasses to even out his perception, and goddamn if he was a lucky bastard. Woefully, his intelligence left quite a bit to be desired. After all, he wasn't the fiercest Deathclaw in the pack. Ah well, they can't all be scientists and doctors, can they?

It was thanks to Doc Mitchell that he was alive and knew any damn thing, so he owed the doc a lot, and Jack swore he'd repay him. If, of course, he got out of his current predicament alive. Jack, despite being inherently lucky, was just a magnet for hordes of, well, anything that would want to kill him. Yeah, he probably should have noticed the cluster of red ticks on his Pip-Boy's map, but he didn't. He probably should have noticed movement in the horizon. Instead, he was busy musing as to why crows had survived and no other birds; if there had been other birds. Also, were they mutated, or naturally as is? Why? He surmised that as long as they didn't try to peck out his liver, which he needed in order to drink more, that he didn't give two fucks to Sunday about them.

That was when the proverbial shit hit the fan. He isn't the stealthiest guy around, that is for damn sure. But one would think he'd be smart enough not to step on a Radscorpion egg. Well, that is where one would be wrong, for that's exactly what happened. He stumbled oh so gracefully into a nesting ground. Most of the Radscorpions went off hunting while some had stayed to watch the clutches.

That leads us to our current situation.

Jack is running full force, chest heaving with his breathing labored. Yeah, his endurance is pretty good, but you try sprinting endlessly with a swarm of Radscorpions trying to shove a stinger in your spinal cord and see how that works out for you. Of course, he attempted to use one of his guns in his as of yet small arsenal of weapons. The hunting rifle worked well enough, if, say, there were one or two Radscorpions and not a horde. Pitch in a couple feral ghouls too, and you got a Jack that's panting like a bitch and bordering on crying.

His weapon cache isn't that great as he's tight on caps. He had just helped restore Primm and find a sheriff, but their casino was not yet open for him to rob blind yet. Thus, he couldn't find many good guns, other than what he found scavenging the Mojave and looting corpses. Right now, he was really pissed at himself for not just robbing every shopkeep of their weapons and caps. Then again, as said, he isn't the stealthiest, nor did he have the heart to full on murder someone in cold blood for their belongings. Unless, say, it was a really sweet jacket or hat. Hey, he likes to stay stylish.

In the near distance, Jack saw a great and imposing figure looming. He almost faltered in his steps but would rather not get over come with stingers, pinchers, and feral jaws. As he focused intently on that point, willing himself to make it and not pass out right now due to lack of oxygen and fatigue, he noticed the figure start to take shape. Again, he nearly fell out of step when noticed it was a giant...dinosaur? 'What the fuck?'

Again, Jack is just a few grades higher in IQ than a pack brahmin, but even he knew a dinosaur from one of the books he attempted to read. Reading didn't hold much interest to him, but he had been curious about those oversized reptiles. Maybe this giant dinosaur was his savior incarnated into something Jack liked. He can't complain, but he probably would have preferred a giant bottle of whiskey or a hot person. He isn't picky.

As he was getting closer, a loud crack shocked him, making him jump and trip up. He stumbled, barely righting himself before the faint whisper of a missed stinger flew past his back. He glanced over his shoulder for a second, yeah, a stupid move, but he was curious, only to find one of the radscorpions with a large hole in its head left in the dust. His eyes widened as he turned and raced onward to his violent savior. It could only be the dinosaur who saved him, right?

Again, another crack and another faint thump of an enemy down. Right now, Jack would be crying with happiness if he hadn't been so busy running for his life and trying not to die. Again. He was close enough to see the full profile of the overly happy looking dinosaur. Mentally, he dubbed his violent savior Barney. He had read about a great dinosaur named Barney in which many revered in the Old World. It seemed only fitting; Barney the Dinosaur.

Then, he caught a slight flash coming from the mouth as another thunderous crack shattered the night air. He may be about as bright as molerat, but even Jack could figure out that it was actually someone shooting from there as a perch rather than the dinosaur animating and rescuing him, much to his disappointment. He came to this realization a bit late, but at least he got to it eventually rather than running up and attempting to speak to the monument.

Only after a few more shots did the numbers dwindle to something Jack could handle with his meager weapons. All but falling flat on his face onto the ground, he made sure to pull out his rifle while turning and shooting a Radscorpion way too close for comfort, getting off one more round before it fell. His attention turned to a ghoul that took the opportunity of the larger threat as a distraction and lunged. It tore at his right arm, causing him to cry out and bash it with the butt of his rifle before a clean headshot sent its skull fragmenting. While he appreciated the rescue, the brain shower could have been skipped.

He sat there for a moment, attempting to catch his breath before flopping fully onto the ground, sprawling out spread eagle and nearly passing out.

#im laughin rn #my courier was so fuckin stupid #i love him #and get this #i named it Bromance in the Mojave #bcus it was supposed to be about my courier and his (reluctant) bffl Boone being platonic soulmates (or saltmates in Boone's case)#gettin shitfaced in Vegas and Boone having to save him all the time bcus my dude's a walking hot mess #seriously who left that guy in charge #Boone come collect your idiot

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

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honey don't feed it

Just some Hades smut! Please reblog and comment over on Ao3!

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Thanatos has told his love a thousand times to be careful when overindulging in boons from the Olympians. Too many, too much from one god and he starts to get some strange side effects.

Ares' boons make him angry. Dionysius' made him laugh.

Aphrodite's do something entirely different.

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Thanatos read the note a few times over, hearing it in his lover’s voice.

I need you. Please come home. I love you.

“Let me guess,” the grin on his twin’s face was far too smug for Than’s liking, “You’re taking your break now?”

Than gave him the kind of dark scowl that had been cowing the unruly dead for years but had never seemed to work on anyone who actually knew him. He folded up the note and stowed it in one of the many hidden pockets of his flowing robes. I need you.

“I don’t just drop everything and go running when Zagreus clicks his fingers,” he muttered. Please come home.

“Never said you did,” Hypnos shrugged, leaning back and putting his slippered feet on the desk in a way that was quite unprofessional, not that Than would look anything but petulant if he said so, “Just thought your face really lit up when I said Zag had left you a message…”

Than really hoped his cowl hid enough of his face that his blush couldn’t be seen. Something about Hypnos’ widening grin told him his hopes were in vain. I love you.

“There’s a gap in my schedule,” he sniffed, sheathing his scythe and gathering his robes with as much dignity as he could muster, “An unrelated gap.”

“Sure,” Hypnos shrugged, marking it down on the time sheets, “I’ll tell anyone looking for you to check Zag’s place.”

I need you. Please come home. I love you.

“Best not, I think,” Than said flatly, turning away quickly so he didn’t have to see the expression on Hypnos’ face.

He’d catch up on the work he missed later.

He knew what the problem was as soon as he walked into their chambers. Their chambers, not Zagreus’, it had taken some time to get used to thinking of it that way. But when he hadn’t slept in the Chthonic Wing once since they’d begun openly courting, when half of the items in the close, comfortable room were his own, when the word home evoked images of this place and the godling he shared it with, he’d settled into it.

It wasn’t a smell, not exactly. But it was a presence in the air, like a heat without the warmth or a sound without its timbre. And when Thanatos felt it play across his skin, like a ripple of energy that somehow tasted of pink, he stopped. And he realised how this evening was going to go.

“Tough run today, my love?” he said delicately, hanging up his cloak and moving deeper into the room.

His answer was a low, affirmative grown from Zagreus, curled on his side in the middle of the bed they shared. Around him the aura grew even tighter, thick enough to taste. There was a faint pink flickering behind his green eye, a tension in his muscles as he held himself, an unusual rosy colour in his veins, standing out starkly in his corded wrists as he gripped the sheet underneath him.

Thanatos sighed softly, pushing all thoughts of returning to work out of his mind. He knew the signs of overindulgence in a god’s boon, as varied as they were, there were always common threads. When Zagreus depended too heavily on one rather than using them sparingly and variedly as he’d been told half a hundred times, he would begin to shake, his eyes would unfocus and flicker, he’d experience deep instinctual urges that were nigh on impossible to ignore. What his body demanded, how his brain responded, well that depended on which god he’d been indulging in. Dionyseus’ boons made him slur his words, lose the ability to walk straight, laugh helplessly at anything. Ares’ were especially worrying, making him violent and bloodthirsty, filling him with the need to strike out at something and not stop until exhaustion collapsed him. Too many from Hermes and he would be filled with energy that crackled and sparked, putting him on a level with a small child who’d eaten their body weight in raw sugar.

But none of those gave Zagreus this tense, hungry energy with it’s tinge of rose pink and it’s smell of amber and heat. That was solely the symptom of far too many boons from one goddess of love and lust. That was all Aphrodite.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Zag groaned, his voice strained and coming through clenched teeth. He seemed to be fighting to keep himself still.

“What am I going to say, beloved?” Than murmured, golden eyes sweeping over him, assessing just how far gone he was. There was a shine of sweat pooling in his collarbone, an unmistakable dampness on the inside of his thighs, the red fabric turning dark.

“That I’m an idiot,” Zag moaned, “That I went too far again, that I need to listen to you.”

Thanatos considered that a moment, confirming to himself that he’d locked the door firmly behind him. Then he calmly unclasped his robe at the back and swept it over his head, leaving him bare but for his jewellery, all in one smooth, efficient stroke. He moved to the bottom of the bed, joining Zagreus up on it, setting his hands lightly on his lover’s knees. He knew from experience that far too much sensation right now could easily overwhelm him. Sure enough, just that barest touch of Than’s cool palms through the fabric of his trousers dragged a strangled noise from Zagreus.

“What I was going to say,” Than said patiently, eyes glowing in the candlelight, “Was that I love you too. And I’m here for you. Alright?”

Zag swallowed hard, eyes wide and wet, fixed completely on his lover’s face. Too many of these boons and it wasn’t just what was between Zag’s legs that took control, it was his heart as well, love and lust together. Than knew he needed gentle words, soft touches, closeness. That and to be bent near in half.

After a long few days of solid work, of being apart more than they were together, Thanatos was rather ready for both.

“I love you,” Zag nearly sobbed, whole body trembling with tension that needed release, “Than, please…”

“Slowly,” Than promised, moving to unbuckle his sword belt and unwind his tunic. His lover hadn’t even undressed himself before he’d fallen to the bed, likely nervous of what he might do without even the feeble barrier of fabric, “Gently. I’ll give you what you need but not more than you can take and you’re going to listen to me. Yes?”

“Yes,” Zag was panting as Than rolled his leggings down, casting them off the side of the bed though he wasn’t entirely sure they were salvageable, “Yes, gods, anything. Just fuck me or kiss me or let me fuck you, I’m dying here.”

“You’re not dying, we’ve done this before…”

Than kept his voice level but there was something in the heat rolling off his skin right now as he took away the last of his adornments, the salt and musk smell of him, something animalistic about it all. He was finding it hard to concentrate. Or he would, if such a thing could pull his focus at a time like this…

“Come here, my love,” he moved Zag’s lean thighs apart, making him whine at just the slight touch of his breath, “I’ll take good care of you.”

Zagreus nearly came the moment Than’s tongue touched his flesh, a kind of electricity seizing him. But it passed, achingly, and then his fingers were in Than’s hair, taking full advantage of how long it had been getting of late, how easily Than had bowed to a sleepy, murmured comment from his lover a few weeks ago that he looked beautiful with it long. He tugged needily, hungrily, but still not enough to truly hurt, as Than fluttered kisses between his lips. He built slowly, starting to lap and suck and slip his tongue into him only when he was sure Zag could bear it. Every movement drew more gasps and moans from his lover, more grasping at his hair, strained whispers of muddied devotion.

Than had seen the sea of course, it claimed so many souls he had to go and collect, even some that were peaceful. He’d stood on it’s shores, felt it’s salt sting the inside of his nose and throat and wanted badly to be able to swim in it. When Zagreus came, sudden and sharp and with a high, wild cry, Than felt for a moment as if he had.

“Well then…” he drew back, wiping at his mouth and cheeks with the back of his hand.

“Than…” Zag moaned, relief in his eyes but only for a moment, the aura still twitching and writhing around him, “S’not enough...still burning…”

“I know, my love,” Than was already moving, taking his wrists now, immediately feeling his racing pulse under his skin, “I cleared my schedule, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, your workload was my biggest concern, just edged out my cock literally feeling like it was on fire…” Zag said dryly, making Thanatos smile. If his lover felt enough like himself to crack his little jokes, then his work was having the intended effect.

“Let’s see what we can do about that then, hm?” Than grinned, bending to his task again.

It took another half hour of slow, almost lazy ministrations between Zag’s thighs, a gradual introduction of his fingers, all very cautious and almost worshipful before he judged his lover ready for something more without it breaking his brain. He was still burning hot, the sheets under him near ruined, thighs shining with slick in the low light. But he could speak without that wanton whine in his voice, he could focus on something other than Than’s fingers or tongue- he’d had him reciting poetry a moment ago just to prove he could- and his eyes looked their usual colour. The boons were slackening their hold on him, bit by bit, as the seconds ticked by and Zag’s needs were filled.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a little more fun before it was over.

“Want my cock?” he purred, licking his fingers lightly as he sat back on his heels.

“Gods, yes, you tease,” Zag groaned, eyes closely following the play of his lover’s fingers, the way his tongue ran across them, “I’ve only been begging since you walked through the damn door.”

“And if I’d given it to you then, you’d have ridden me until you blacked out while scratching my back to ribbons,” Than explained with prim patience, “What happened to listening to me?”

“Sorry,” Zag muttered, his kiss swollen lips sliding into a needy pout, “I’ll behave. I’ll listen. Please?”

Than smiled crookedly, drawing their hips close, throwing his lover’s legs over his shoulder, “Seeing as you asked so nicely.”

“Watch the feet, you’ll singe your hair again,” Zag hummed with a hint of smugness rather too strong for someone in his situation.

“I thought we agreed never to speak of that again, my love…”

Than pressing into him chased the look off Zag’s face, replacing it with one of mixed relief and rapture. Than had to bite down on his own gasp as his lover’s body opened up to him, he’d been neglecting himself as he’d focused on Zag’s predicament and was only now realising how much.

“Oh gods, yes,” Zag moaned, eyelids half closed, head tilted back, “Right there. That’s where you belong, my love, my heart…”

Than swallowed hard, bracing himself with his hands bracketing Zag’s head. It was the effect of the boons, he told himself. They were not two lovers in a sappy play whispering ridiculous, overwrought words of passion in some moonlight drenched garden.

But wasn’t it fun to pretend.

“My beloved,” he answered, voice a little strained as he began to thrust, “I’ve got you, you’re here with me and I’m going to give you just what you need...”

Zag whimpered helplessly, legs locked tight as chords around him, soon unable to do anything but gasp his name and strained pleas for more, faster, harder. Than answered, giving him everything he could, everything he had left, kissing him through the surging pink haze until he wasn’t quite sure who it was coming from or who it was ensnaring any more. And he wasn’t fully certain he could care, not when the world shrank down to Zag’s hands on his face and in his hair, his warm, wet heat around his cock, his breathy gasps of his name, how could he care about anything else? How could he care about anything but the one he loved?

“Come with me,” he whispered into Zag’s mouth, hips working hard and heavy.

Apparently he’d just been waiting for permission, as soon as the words left Than’s mouth, Zag arched up and came hard with a strangled cry of his lover’s name that sounded as sweet as any prayer. Than was helpless and could only follow, tumbling over his own edge, filling Zag deeply, crying out in a way that was very undignified and very un-death like.

When his vision cleared and his brain felt connected to his limbs again, Thanatos opened his eyes to see his husband smiling crookedly up at him.

“I think I’m all set,” he chuckled, eyes a little unfocused but very much his own beautiful colours, the only thing in the air being the smell of sex and candles that had guttered out while they’d been distracted.

They untangled themselves carefully, cataloguing their various aches and pulled muscles, collapsing over each other against the pillows.

“So,” Than shifted so Zag could pillow his head on his chest, “What are we going to do next time?”

“Use the boons sparingly,” Zag just sounded exhausted now, Than was beginning to suspect the much needed bathing would have to wait until after a brief nap, “Vary them. And listen to Thanatos.”

“Good boy,” Than laughed, stroking his hair back from his forehead, “And?”

Zag thought before frowning sleepily, confused, “And...and I don’t know.”

Than leaned down and kissed him softly, lingering before murmuring tenderly, “And I will always come running whenever you need me because I love you.”

Zag smiled at him, reaching up to trace the curve of his nose, “I love you too.”

Thanatos knew Zagreus was satisfied, he could go back to work and catch up on the souls he missed, the ones that were probably mounting every second he spent watching his lover drift into sleep.

But still he didn’t move, he didn’t stop letting the silky black hair run through his fingers again and again, admiring his beloved’s face, relaxed and peaceful in sleep. He would go back to being the emissary of Death, he’d pick up his scythe and he’d return to work. But not now.

For now, how could he care about anything but the man he loved?

#hades #smut #thanzag #zagreus #thanatos #hades game

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seyaryminamoto · 3 years

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my school works are piled up this past few weeks (graduating tingz) and i just started reading the deadlock novel it feels like i'm reading a sokkla fic every time Mcashe has a scene because they just give off the vibes skskskskksksks. BTW, what's your top5 fav scenes from the novel? PS: I'm smiling like an idiot while reading the novel ughh i hate myself

I KNOW, RIIIIIGHT?! *-* and don't hate yourself, my anon friend, I spent the whole novel smiling and laughing and losing my goddamn mind because I was having the time of my life xD enjoy this beautiful content as best you can!

I mean, frankly, Reunion already had all the Sokkla vibes I could've wanted/needed to ship these two like FedEx and I always knew I wasn't getting off this ride anytime soon. But gosh, this book... it gave me everything I wanted and MORE! Their dynamics are soooo similar to Sokkla team-up dynamics, two power couples kicking ass and taking names... oh, I just love it so much. I probably will end up reading the book a third time soon x'D

As for my favorite scenes, damn, this is tricky xD

KEYCHAIN! HE MADE HER KEYCHAIN!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! God, it's just amazing how the book explains the "vintage" look for Ashe's hoverbike the way it does, and that they literally built it together *screams!!!*, but then he gives her that keychain for her birthday present, and the implications!! THE IMPLICATIONS!!! He gave her a keychain she's held onto for TWENTY YEARS?!?!?! Ships in the OW fandom have sailed far and wide with less than breadcrumbs: we literally have been granted a boon from the GODS with all this extra context for the little things in Reunion xD

Ashe going to hell and back to save her kidnapped BFF-for-whom-she-totally-doesn't-have-feelings-yeah-yeah-sure-Jan. I love the fact that McCree is, in a way, Ashe's damsel in distress and not the other way around xD Of course, it's what you'd expect from an Ashe-centric story, but it's still an amazing sequence, all around. Gotta highlight how she loves the way he smiles like a madman when they have that shootout at the end, and how he worries so much over Ashe's injury when he took an even worse one than she did (the Sokkla vibes in that particular situation were SO STRONG! I SWEAR!).

"Jesse McCree, are you trying to make me say you're handsome?" "Am I?" ... do I need to say more. That FLIRTING. These two were on fire already and they'd only known each other for like... weeks, at this point? x'D He has no sense of moderation, he's soooo into her and doesn't hide it at all. Ashe is so busy trying to plot all the crime and Jesse's practically like a shojo heroine, "oh I can feel it, this is how my love story begins!", basically xD

Finally I pick a not-McAshe scene... to bring up the one where Ashe picks up the Viper on her last moment in Lead Rose Manor. That moment was just... POWERFUL. The feeling of epicness in that scene just overwhelmed me when I was reading it xD

The ending of the book :'D the fully formed Deadlock Gang ready for business, down to the explanation for the Est. 1976 in the logo... *sobs* the fact that so much about the character design choices in these two characters is a shoutout to the past they share is just... *gross sobbing* oh, I just love it to pieces, I'm not even sorry.

Ashe's bike race to save B.O.B. x'D that whole situation was bonkers but I looooved how fierce she was about protecting her one and only buddy while growing up (AND THAT JESSE BLUSHED WHEN SHE TAUNTED HIM WAS JUST THE CHERRY ON TOP!). I appreciated learning more about the Omnic War and its consequences, how Ashe reflects on having escaped it practically untouched in virtue of her money and societal privilege while her new friends all faced many hardships to survive. But I can't help but also love that, however uneasy others could have been about the Best Omnic Butler, Ashe was so fiercely loyal to B.O.B. that she nearly broke Julian's nose herself over his ridiculousness x'D That's HER big omnic buddy and she's not about to lose him to anyone, not her shitty parents, not a bet in a race, NOTHING! (and it's so cute that B.O.B. is just as loyal to her, too *sobs*)

Ashe grabbing McCree's arm to explain things to him on their first heist and him being all "you gonna leave that there?" and only then does she realize her hand's still on him x'D what a McCree line, and he was absolutely enjoying the attention, he doesn't even pretend otherwise.

Everything poetic McCree says or does... meanwhile Ashe's like "um yeah I don't care about poetry I want money", right until his poet soul totally smashes her square in the heart with the KEYCHAIN!!! But damn, I swear I thought McCree would hold back a lot more, and yet there he was, saying things like Calamity was brilliant and mysterious... you could practically hear B.O.B., Julian and Frankie going "I can see what's happening..." in the background xD

The conversation about what they wanted to do once they were loaded with all the cash they could possibly want. That one was a real number on my heartstrings. It ties up to what I said earlier with Ashe finally being in touch with people who are completely removed from the ridiculous social circles of her parents and her school, people who really lost a lot in the war. But where Julian and Frankie seem to look at the past a lot, I loved that Jesse is basically just thinking about the future. The fact that he says he wants to chill out in a farm and that this is what he wants in life... many, MANY, shippy wheels have turned in my head since I read that <.< maaaany...

WHEN JESSE NEARLY FALLS AND ASHE CATCHES HIM!!! UNDERRRATED AS HECK!!! The fact that he's taunting her about fear of heights, then he nearly plummets to his death because ironies are beautiful xD and Ashe pulls him back to safety only to say that she's not afraid of heights but afraid of ~FALLING~??? I mean, okay, sure, maybe I'm reading too much into that line... or maybe I'm not <.< either way, the truth is I just love how absolutely broad of interpretation that scene and that DIALOGUE are :> ehehehe.

Oh, their first encounter. The fact that it's so cute and fun, and that it's this low in the list tells you how GOOD this book was x'D "You've got an awful lot of grit for a rich girl," first words he spoke to the love of his life xD then how they talked and laughed together about the crazy stories he shared (she was crying of laughter for the first time in her life! precious girl!), and then how she sat in the car thinking about the strange feeling she was left with after meeting him... they seriously had a meetcute in prison, how can a ship get any better? xD

WHEN HE COMES BACK TO HER WHEN THEIR FIRST HEIST GOES WRONG!!! That Ashe expects him to just leave after she falls off their getaway vehicle, but Jesse saves her and goes "pfft that's just not my style", basically... *sobs* without realizing it she ends up picking up that particular philosophy of his, saving her friends no matter the cost...! Honestly, though, the fact that every time something like this happens it hits Ashe like a truck racing downhill with no brakes because she's NEVER been cared about by anyone but B.O.B. and she's completely new to friendships and bonding with people... and in the mean time, Jesse immediately is "ride or die" with her because that's how he rolls... beautiful relationship dynamics between characters who influence each other for the better are just beautiful :')

A silly one here: Jesse enjoying the good life in Lead Rose. That description of him looking like a marshmallow in the CHAISE LOUNGEEEEE!!! (the one he references in their in-game interactions *CRYING SO MANY TEARS*), was just too cute to bear x'D Ashe just jumping back into work mode... while he was just thrilled to be a marshmallow in a towel xD

... So, um, I went overboard because I love this book a little too much for my own good :> what can I say? When things I love are good, I go wild xD There's probably more scenes I loved, but these... thirteen? XD are the ones that came to mind.

I think one of my favorite things now is reexamining Reunion with all this extra context in mind. The first time I watched that cinematic I, of course, fell in love with these two outlaws because how could I not? But while subsequent rewatches revealed a lot of things I didn't pay enough attention to the first time around, the book has done even more than I could imagine possible for a short that was already as shippy as could be xD

Ooookay so, shippy ramblings about Reunion, coming up! (simply because I have to put these down SOMEWHERE XD and your ask was a good idea for that, anon!)

First off, Jesse very much staged the whole rodeo in Reunion. He sent the tip to Ashe, he wanted Echo's crate specifically. He thought they could work together, basically, despite knowing it was entirely possible that those hopes wouldn't pay off. This train, according to the wikia, was a government train, so Jesse is very much telling Ashe to give a finger to the government for all he cares, all he wants is one (1) crate.

Ergo, Jesse, for all his "nice guy bountyhunter" deal, doesn't disapprove of Deadlock's actions. If anything, he counts on them to be exactly what he needs in order to get what he wants. He practically trusts Ashe to pull off the train heist disaster perfectly and only steps up when it's time to collect Echo.

Then the wacky shoot-out happens, it's veeeery charged (the UST is so thick, I swear...), and Jesse wins. He ties up Ashe, floats her off on the payload with the rest of the gang, and he sets Echo free. He's helping her out very nicely and everything, but the context in question is... he received the recall notification thingy XD Winston called him back to Overwatch, and Jesse...

... Jesse doesn't want to go back.

Jesse says "they want me", and the displeased tone of his voice, paired with the look on his face when he says that line, speak for themselves.

That, in my humble opinion, isn't the sequence of expressions you'd expect from someone who intends to return to the group where he thrived, had the time of his life and found his true calling. To me, he actually looks irritated about the recall (the sequence of expressions during that line is much better when you watch the full thing x'D), as though he REALLY doesn't want to return. He's not against Overwatch, I'm not quite saying that, otherwise he wouldn't have set Echo free and told her to go back at all... but this isn't remorse. It's not "Oh, I'm not good enough for Overwatch anymore". Nope... this is "My time with them is over and I don't plan on going back unless I have no choice", as far as I can tell.

If OW2 does bring him back into the fold and he's a perfectly chill and happy guy about it, I'll seriously be surprised. I mean, he could have set Echo free and, once his business is over, returned to Overwatch with her, he could have been in the Paris cinematic if he'd done that...

But he's not there.

Which outright says he didn't do that :> oops.

Basically, I think Jesse's reaction in Retribution (where he's markedly the most morally correct one of the bunch, and he's the former outlaw :'D) tells you his displeasure with Overwatch ran very, very deep. And someone can very easily say he felt the same way about Deadlock and that's why he left them for Overwatch... but that's conjecture. His displeasure with Blackwatch (and, in consequence, Overwatch), however, is FACT. And the previous conjecture falls flat pretty quickly considering he's perfectly fine with Ashe's train heist, even sets it up himself, from what the story suggests, so... how ~appalled~ was he over her choices and actions? Not appalled at all, if you ask me, and after you read Deadlock Rebels, you actually understand why: Jesse trusts Ashe.

From the first moment she enters the same prison block he's in, he's drawn to her. He wants to impress her, he absolutely enjoys her company and making her laugh (just as much as she enjoyed laughing at his wacky stories), and he's plain thrilled that she comes back for him when she does. Ashe manages the gang with inexperience but she's always willing to improve, and you see Jesse sticking with her through thick and thin, supporting her at the best and worst times alike, always putting his faith on her and constantly watching out for her (he protected and shielded her from attacks with his own body sooooo many times *sobs*). Ashe starts out intending to keep most profits for herself, and Jesse doesn't care much at first... but then she starts to share profit equally between their team. She works on her own bike herself, her own ride, and she plans and solves problems as best she can, to a point of even going overboard with planning too much. She's wild, reckless and takes insane risks... and this guy loves every second of it. The matter of morality regarding the actions of a criminal gang is, of course, something to think about... but as far as the book goes, Ashe mainly targets her own family, their specific brand of bullshit, and in the process she ends up helping lots of people and even saving lives that might not have been saved otherwise. I'm not going to put my hand on the fire here and say Deadlock never ever did anything absolutely wrong to people who didn't deserve it... but for a criminal gang? They're honestly the most wholesome one the OW team could have come up with, if you ask me.

So where you see Jesse is very much antagonistic with Reaper/Reyes, where he loses his temper with the guy's choices, he doesn't ever do that with Ashe. Overwatch ARE supposed to be the good guys... so how weird that Jesse McCree, reformed outlaw, ends up so disappointed with these guys when he was actually thrilled with Ashe's managing of their gang, as far as we saw. So much so that, when it came down to it, Jesse McCree, 20 years later, still counts on Ashe to give him a hand (without her full awareness) with a little operation to help out an old friend of his. Also worth pointing out: he doesn't want to fight at all, while Ashe, of course, does. Deadlock for life, is what Jesse said... and he's not Deadlock anymore, hasn't been for who knows how long. Worse yet... his tattooed arm is gone. It's like all his ties to Deadlock have been severed.

And even so, he came to Ashe and hoped she wouldn't want a shootout with him. Even when he knows she might be beyond unforgiving because of the betrayal (he has seen directly how outraged she was about a certain someone betraying her in the book...), Jesse goes back anyway and hopes it won't come to this.

THE IMPLICATIONS, MAN!!!

Carrying on: Echo is surprised that Jesse shows no intentions of going back to Overwatch. She asks him what he's going to do... and what does Jesse say?

He puts his cowboy hat back on (the symbolism in this short, I swear...), and when she asks him what he's going to do, he tells her "I've got some business to attend to."

THE MUSIC PICKS UP.

AND THEN HE CLIMBS ON THE BIKE HE BUILT WITH ASHE.

YOU GET A DELIBERATE CLOSE-UP TO THE KEYCHAIN.

THEN THE CAMERA PANS UP TO FOCUS ON THE PICTURE, TORN AND TAPED BACK TOGETHER, THAT ASHE CARRIES ON THIS BIKE, A BIKE WHICH, LET'S BE REAL, IS BASICALLY A MCASHE BABY CHOPPER/HOVERBIKE HYBRID, AND AS SHE PUTS IT LATER, IS...

HER

BIKE!!!

When Jesse says he has business to attend to, he could pick up any bike he wants (since it'd stand to reason that the other guys Ashe came in with would have bikes of their own). He could escape on horseback for all we know xD so there are lots of options... but no. He takes HERS. Right after saying he has "business to attend to".

Look, I could be wrong. I could be dead wrong. I can absolutely be digging around and going INSANE because nothing I ship EVER gets this much content.

But we literally get a guy saying he has "business" to take care of, and the cinematic focuses exclusively on elements that, even BEFORE Deadlock Rebels, all point towards Ashe?! You could easily say that taking her bike is just the final nail on the coffin, his last trolling idea to mess with his one true love... but that picture is right there. That picture, with them in their youth. The picture, btw, was bigger than just them: B.O.B.'s hand is there. The top of the picture is uneven, suggesting Ashe probably tore it to shreds in a fit of rage... and then specifically put together THEIR PART. And then she taped that to her bike's dashboard. Meaning, she carries the goddamn memory of Jesse with her EVERYWHERE SHE GOES. And she does it WILLINGLY.

Which, in turn, answers why Jesse expects MAYBE Ashe wouldn't go full-on hostile when they meet: this trolling cowboy knows exactly what he means to Ashe. He's not surprised when he sees that picture on the bike. He doesn't toss it away, which he could have, if he were saying "we are history now, forget it gurl" (and let's be honest, what a dick move that would have been @_@), he doesn't flinch after noticing and then goes "yeah, no, I'm picking another bike".

NOPE. The familiarity with which they talk, the way he hopes she'll just let him walk away, the fact that she DIDN'T change the keychain and bike in all those years and he's not even SURPRISED...

Jesse knows how much she loves him, point-blank. He's completely aware of it... and he's very much okay with it.

So much so... that I'm something of a 90% sure that the business he intends to deal with is ASHE HERSELF.

And no, I don't mean he's going to go on another shootout with her... I mean, evidently, that Jesse wants to come home. That he's tried the life of Overwatch, and he's decided to leave it behind. He's turned bountyhunter now, vigilante, pretty much... but he comes back to Ashe all the same. He's come back for the first time in who knows how long (going by Ashe's expressions and sarcasm with the "you promised you'd write" line, it miiiiiiight be they haven't seen each other since he got recruited into Blackwatch), and he expected a peaceful encounter, no less.

A good question to ask here is... what did Jesse hope would happen, if the encounter HAD been peaceful? He would've released Echo, sent her away to her business, and stayed behind anyway because he had business to deal with. Which business? :'D why... the business that would've been standing right in front of him.

There's no other, logical reason why this cinematic would put Ashe and McCree's picture into focus right when McCree says what he does to Echo. There's no other reasonable choice why McCree would turn his back on Overwatch quite so firmly. We know he had two important ties in his life: Overwatch and Deadlock. And Overwatch stole him away from Deadlock for a VERY long time. Well over half the time Deadlock has been in operations, as far as I can tell. He picked Overwatch over Deadlock once before... and now, it seems he's picking Deadlock over Overwatch instead :')

The follow-up short, Roadtrip, doesn't do anything to change my mind. The trolling jerk, Jesse McCree, hovers past Ashe's payload, where she's just... complaining, as she hovers xD going by what I know of the game and that map, the payload may just be en route to the gang's hideout, so that, I'd say, could explain why she hasn't climbed off it or escaped in any way (which she reasonably would have, if Jesse was trying to, I don't know, send her and her people to the authorities).

My point here is, however, that Jesse is headed the same way the payload is. If his destination is the same one, he'll beat it there for sure. Maybe, yes, he'll go away and drive well past the hideout... but maybe that's exactly where he intended to go.

Maybe, in the end, Reunion is about a man who's finally coming home :D

In addition, goes without saying, Ashe's rant about how everyone falls to pieces over Jesse showing his "stupid mug" (uh-huh, stupid, ANGELIC mug, we know what you really think, girl xD) ends with her saying she should have "put a bullet in him the minute he showed up".

Which begs the question of why didn't she.

Then, of course, she says she hates McCree when he drives past her while listening to some really ridiculous honky-tonky-sounding music x'D I cannot even help but imagine him deliberately picking that radio station or whatever it was just to annoy Ashe when he drove beside her, and so that she can get extra pissed when she retrieves her beloved bike, turns on the music and it's just more honky-tonky stuff x'D but anyway, the thing is she shouts after him, tells him that's her bike and says she hates him. B.O.B. wordlessly speaks for us McAshe shippers by giving Ashe the most "sure, Jan" side-eye in the history of side-eyes, and Ashe notices and is outraged enough to knock B.O.B.'s little hat right off his head again.

Again... this is renowned outlaw Elizabeth Caledonia "Calamity" Ashe, sitting on a payload, groaning about the guy she once very much had feelings for (and that doesn't even begin to cut it, if you ask me x'D) and for whom she tooooootally doesn't anymore, that picture on her bike doesn't MEAN that, OBVIOUSLYYYY!!, and so, she sits up, complains and doesn't do much of anything to get out of her current situation, right? :>

So, summing up my current understanding of EVERYTHING, thanks to Deadlock Rebels and my obsessive rewatches of Reunion + Roadtrip:

Jesse deliberately sought out Ashe so she would indirectly, unknowingly, help him set Echo free from the government's clutches.

Jesse hoped for a peaceful encounter despite knowing he might not get one.

Jesse has no intentions of returning to Overwatch but was willing to perform one final act of service for them by releasing Echo so she'd go give Winston and co. a hand.

Jesse is NOT surprised to see that Ashe: 1. Didn't change bikes at some point in the twenty years since they built it. 2. Didn't swap the ignition key for a button, the way she says she thought to do it in the novel until he gives her the keychain. 3. KEPT THE POETIC AF KEYCHAIN, despite resenting Jesse for his betrayal. 4. KEEPS A PICTURE OF THEM IN THEIR YOUNGER YEARS PASTED ON HER BIKE'S DASHBOARD.

Jesse claims he has business to deal with: he doesn't clarify said business verbally, but every shot after he says those words focuses on elements related to Ashe... and then, along with the novel's context, it's elements related to their BOND. Everything in that shot, EVERYTHING, is connected to the two of them. Elements that weren't shown before or during their shootout, and that are only introduced in that final moment when McCree is off to deal with his "business".

Ashe doesn't climb off the payload or stops it (which, going by how McCree simply pressed a button, and Ashe isn't immobilized in the least, she easily could have done it too if she had wanted to). Suggesting that, wherever the payload is heading, it isn't anywhere dangerous for Ashe and her crew, ergo, she is 100% sure McCree isn't trying to screw her over by turning her in to the authorities or so (or, at worst, she's completely confident that, even if he is going to do this, she'll be able to get out of it easily).

Jesse drives in the same direction the payload is headed. Another hint that suggests he might intend to head to the Deadlock hideout and that, whatever business he has left to deal with, it involves them.

If his intent ISN'T to go to the hideout... Jesse is still guaranteeing that Ashe will come after him by stealing her bike, the 18th birthday gift he gave her, and the picture she keeps of them. That he takes that very bike practically serves as painting a target on his back for her to hunt down, and he KNOWS IT.

In short: Jesse will have plenty of business with the Deadlock Gang in his future, and going by how pleased he seems to be when riding the bike, he's perfectly happy to handle that business on his terms, whenever he wants to handle it.

Extra tidbit: there's nothing in Deadlock Rebels about Jesse's smoking habit, something he definitely did pick up at some point while in the gang because, hahaha, he IS smoking in the picture Ashe keeps of him :> Which makes me wonder why, of all pictures Ashe chooses to keep on her bike's dashboard, she picks one where he's smoking.

Then, it makes me wonder about the fact that Jesse deliberately starts smoking when he's standing right in front of her (and then he winks at her!). He tosses that cigar after things get kind of dangerous for him because B.O.B. does something, and then... then he goes back to smoking.

RIGHT WHEN HE'S CLIMBING ON THE BIKE.

Like... seriously...

*unintelligible fangirl screaming*

I could be looking too deeply into this. I know I could be. Maybe Blizzard just wants me to go CRAZY with little symbolism and hints charged with SO MUCH MEANING that maybe don't have as much meaning as I thought it did...

... But man, I've sailed into the depths of the shippiest oceans for many ships that have gotten actual breadcrumbs from canon. I've gone wild over ships that have zero opportunity to become a thing in canon continuity. I've written a nearly 3M words story based on a ship that is just UNEXPLORED AMAZING POTENTIAL and ngl, I love exploring it myself, so I don't even begrudge canon that much for not giving it to me anymore.

But the fact is, no ship in OW, as far as I've seen, has remotely as much content, hints and strong ties as McAshe does -- at least, no ships between heroes. We had a cinematic that was CHARGED with significance, with little gestures, with even the smallest facial expressions that carried soooo much more meaning than whole episodes or even seasons in TV shows. And then? We got a novel. A full novel depicting their origins and exploring their dynamics, how tight their friendship was, and how some strong feelings were certainly brewing there, even if neither one was ready to act on them yet (as far as we saw...).

Finally... I'll say I did start working on a Sokkla Western AU ages ago because the idea I had for one was pretty amusing. Then Reunion dropped, and I said "Why would I need to finish that story anymore when the Sokkla Western AU is RIGHT HERE?!"

And that's it, I will stop rambling now because this got insanely long x'D but thank you very very much for giving me this chance to go WILD on everything I can see, within all those canon hints, with these two *-*

#anon #mcashe #the fact that canon is treating me right for once #is blowing my mind and always will #look I can end up crying in a heap when OW2 drops and we find out that nothing I thought of was real #it's entirely possible #... but we already got so much #SOOOOO MUCH #that I can't even say I'd be mad x'D #I am one happy camper on this ship #and I love them to pieces #I wish I had the time/chance to make all the art I've been inspired to about them *cries ten rivers*#one day... one day

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magioftheseas · 3 years

Text

The Capital Magical Defense Force

For @oumota-events

DAY 1: Magical Boys AU

Rating: T+

Warnings: Violence, blood, death mentioned, darker implications. Yeah it’s one of those magical au. The daaaaark subversions.

Notes: This is the longest one because we’re starting off with a big bang~ It’s not that long though. It’s just not a ficlet unlike the others. I did really enjoy writing this though. It’s a pretty...fun...au. Yeah. Haha.

Ao3 Link

In just about every world, there are unseen forces to make sure a system works a certain way. That the cogs in the machine turn without fail and that any disturbances are dealt with promptly. These unseen forces can be mundane and dull—but they can also be fantastical...while still incredibly dull.

In this instance, there are two worlds. The dull, mundane one and the dull, fantastical one. The only way to transverse is through contracts between the respective denizens, and it turns out that said contracts are necessary to keep everything in order.

There are benefits, truly. If one world collapses, the other is taken with it. It is within everyone’s best interest that the denizens work together—even if certain manipulations need to be made. After all, the greater good is such a vague and nebulous concept. It’s more encouraging to offer personal gains.

Like, for example, keeping someone alive, be it from sickness or the aftereffects of a horrible, terrible, despairing accident. The desire to live is a powerful force shared among many, both dim-witted and intelligent. It’s an efficient deal to make, especially when the other side of the exchange is not only responsibilities, but special, magical abilities to deal with those responsibilities.

Shame, then, that one particular being blessed with those abilities, those responsibilities, that gift of survival...doesn’t seem to fully appreciate it. Certain arrangements have been made. That being has been assigned to the same areas as another being of a similar caliber, but far more keen to do what must be done.

This is as much an experiment as it is an effort to keep matters under control. Observations are to be as follows...

“In the name of the stars, I’m gonna kick your fucking ass!!”

The town hero known as Starboy was being filmed again. Floating about, sending so-called comet punch after comet punch. The monster squealed under the abuse, but it didn’t squeal as much as that fucking eyesore that tailed the magical boy around as he cursed colorfully under his breath.

“This jackass just doesn’t know when to quit!”

“S-Starboy-kun,” the thing whimpered. “Please watch your language! Kids idolize you!”

“Sorry!” Starboy exclaimed, focusing more on the fight thankfully. “It’s just—let me protect the city first!!”

With a battle cry, Starboy summoned all his strength for a starstorm, pummeling the monster more and more until it fizzled out of existence. Starboy was left slumped on the ground and gasping for breath, but still found it in him to whoop for joy.

Unfortunately for him, that moment of victory was short-lived.

“Geeeez, Starboy-chan, I thought you’d really get trampled this time! You didn’t even need any help!” Another magical boy landed on the scene, right next to where the monster had once been and plucking up the fragment which was all that remained.

“H-Hey!” Starboy shouted, more like wheezed. “What the hell—that’s not yours to take!”

“It’s payment for making me worry so much,” he cackled. “You really should be more careful! You don’t want to be killed in the line of duty, now do you?”

Weakened as he was from the fight, dodging Starboy lurching towards him was child’s play.

“D-Dice!!” that eyesore shrieked. “You and Starboy-kun should be working together! Why are you doing this?!”

Dice gave that thing a cold stare, but grinned in Starboy’s direction.

“Because I like you. That’s a lie. I like messing with you. Also a lie! I really—love you, Starboy-chan!”

“Quit messing around!” Starboy gasped. “Y-You—if you need those damn fragments, you don’t have to steal them! You’re a magical boy, aren’t ya?! You should be helping me defend the city! And then I’d split them with ya even!”

Aah. This guy...

“Oh Starboy-chan, I actually, truthfully loathe you,” Dice sighed.

“D-Dice!” the thing shrieked and without looking, Dice had fired a beam that knocked the pitifully contemptible creature out, much to Starboy’s dismay.

“S-SHIROKUMA...!”

Before he could go to help, however, Dice had seized the bow of his uniform, yanking him to not-quite eye level.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’d stop bothering with that thing and join me instead.”

Starboy only scowled.

“Why the hell would I join you when you act like a villain! I-If I could, I’d beat your ass too...!”

Such a remark gets Dice shoving him back, knocking him onto the ground. Starboy glared up at him defiantly, his stare only darkening as Dice grinned.

“It’s a joke, obviously!” he chirped. “After all—what sort of desperate loser would want to ally with an idiot like you?”

Starboy shouted at him, but whatever he shouted, he was already long gone. Starboy shouted again but, being the justice-obsessed type, he switched gears to muster up the strength to go stumbling after the fainted Shirokuma. Scooping the pitiful bear head-looking creature into his hands, Starboy avoided the incoming paparazzi and gracious civilians and rushed off to safety.

The ideal worker. Starboy will be a great boon of energy in the future once his limit is reached.

“Dice is such a fucking dick,” Kaito grumbles, rubbing ointment onto his bruises. “We’re both working for the same thing but for no reason at all, he’s self-serving and a piece of shit.”

He observes himself in the mirror, rubbing at the circles under his eyes. He’s been going at this whole magical boy hero thing for almost a year. It’s getting harder and harder, but for the sake of the city, he can’t give up. He’s its protector, after all.

Still, it’s getting difficult. His wastebasket is filled with bloodied tissue and bandages. Shirokuma, at least, is currently resting in a bucket of warm water. Dice’s attack had been as sudden as it was vicious, and for what?

“Why is he such a dick?” Kaito asks, but Shirokuma hums.

“Some people...are just bad. It can’t be helped. I’m sorry if that sounds despairing, Momota-kun.”

“Bad, huh.”

It’s not the first time he’s gotten that answer. When he describes Dice to his sidekicks, he more or less gets the same response. Harumaki even goes out of her way to call Dice a supervillain, which Shuuichi agrees to, but...

Here’s a secret that no one else knows. The crack in the foundation so painstakingly paved for black and white heroism.

Dice has saved his life more than once. When blood rushed up his throat and his knees buckled in, Dice would swoop in and let him save face. It would be passed off as Dice once again taking advantage of the situation...but it always, always happens when Kaito is facing death head-on.

Dice is a dick. A self-serving piece of shit. Possibly a supervillain.

He’s also definitely looking out for Starboy. It’s happened too consistently for Kaito to be convinced it’s unintentional.

If Dice insists on helping him, then surely he can’t be a bad person...except he still acts like a bad person most of the time.

What a headache.

“Feeling better, Momota-kun?” Shirokuma chirps up at him in that big sweet voice that Kaito can’t say no to, even when he probably should.

“Never better!”

A thumps-up. A wide grin. Doing his damnedest to pretend like his lungs don’t want to collapse in on themselves.

“Starboy-chan is such a fucking idiot.”

Ouma slams his chest of fragments shut. He still hasn’t figured out what the damn things do, but Shirokuma insists on collecting them so they must be important in some sense. Sure, Shirokuma says that it’s something to do with negative energy and restoring balance, blah, blah, blah—but Shirokuma is a piece of shit liar. And Ouma hates liars.

But he thinks he hates Starboy the most. Or, at least, he finds Starboy to be the most frustrating dumbass in the galaxy.

Because it’s obvious, isn’t it? It’s obvious that Shirokuma is shady as all get out. It’s obvious that there is something deeply wrong with the magical boy system. There have been so many disappearances and it’s suspicious as all get out how Starboy in particular is being worked to the bone and pushed to the brink.

There’s something seriously wrong with all of it.

Ouma just needs to figure out what before everything goes wrong.

To become a magical boy, one needs resolve. To encourage magical boys, a wish is often granted to sweeten—and seal the deal. Ouma’s was a cowardly, stupid wish that he’s still kicking himself for to this day, although in hindsight he should be glad it was so simple. The worthless wish to live as everyone else was dead around him.

He’s still haunted by their faces. He should’ve wished for them but couldn’t. He was targeted and tricked, and now he’s stuck. But the least he can do is make everything difficult for those monsters along the way.

Starboy—aka Momota Kaito...well. Ouma doesn’t know what his wish was, but he suspects it’s as stupidly noble and short-sighted as he’s come to expect.

Oh, yes, he knows that Starboy is Momota Kaito. Who wouldn’t know that? They look the same—although Ouma suspects that magic is at play since no civilians have made the connection. Not even Saihara Shuuichi, a would-be detective.

It’s clear, however, that Saihara-chan has noticed the effects.

“This is the fourth time you’ve had to clear your throat, Momota-kun.”

Momota clears his throat again. He musters up a laugh.

“It’s just been dry. No big deal. You worry too much.”

“Gooooooodness, Momota-kun!” Ouma crowed, skipping in. “Are you dying?! Please, please don’t die! I haven’t even gotten to tell you how much I love you!”

Momota recoils when Ouma jumps on him. Saihara shrieks in surprise but Momota only growls as he tries to shake the brat off.

“Let—GO!”

Ouma does, but not without jabbing the back of Momota’s knee and causing him to topple over. Saihara rushes to steady him, shooting Ouma quite the ugly look. Ouma shrugs that off.

“Whatever it is you’re doing is killing you,” he merely states. “So, you should stop lest you traumatize my poor Saihara-chan.”

“I...” Saihara swallowed, looking like he’d hate to agree but when it came to Momota... “You shouldn’t overwork yourself, Momota-kun.”

“I’m fine,” Momota slurred. “Totally fine. I’m a goddamn Luminary, Shuuichi...” He says he’s fine while learning into Saihara. It’s a bright sunny day. People are no doubt stealing glances, and Momota no doubt has to hide his exhausted face in his sidekick’s shoulder. It’s a good thing Harukawa isn’t here.

Ouma scoffed. Saihara shot him another glare.

“If you’re just here to mess with Momota-kun, you can leave.”

Saihara’s hands tighten on Momota. Goodness, it really is like Ouma is the supervillain tormenting the tired hero.

How boring.

Ouma turns heel, smiling as he waves them off.

I shouldn’t bother. I shouldn’t have to bother.

No matter how many times he’s thought that, he ends up in this situation. With Starboy exhausted on the ground and a fragment pinched so firmly between his fingers that it’s this close to embedding itself in the skin. Shirokuma floats around Starboy.

“He’s getting close,” Shirokuma is saying. “He won’t be able to take much more. How despairing. So despairing.”

Ou—Dice swats the thing to the ground. It giggles up at him.

“You can’t save him, you weren’t able to save your other friends. Just give up, Dice-kun. Give into despair.”

It’s laughing, its laughter resounding even as Dice stomps the thing to bits. It’ll just reshape itself and find Momota again. No matter what he does, he can’t get rid of it. It’s part of a damn hivemind after all.

Sighing, Dice goes to Starboy once again, and Starboy is lying there almost prone. Looking painfully pale. His breathing is shallow. At least he’s still alive.

But for how much longer? And what am I even doing wasting my time with this idiot? No matter what I tell him or how bad he gets, he refuses to back down and Shirokuma just eggs him on.

He gets down, rolling Starboy onto his back. Starboy groans and for a moment, he blearily comes to.

“Di...ce... You...again...” There’s a couple of missing words. It’s clearly difficult for Starboy to speak. He groans, eyes screwing shut. When Dice helps him sit up, he coughs and there’s a thin stream of blood that trickles down his chin. “U-Urgh...hurts bad.”

“Well, yeah. You don’t take breaks, idiot.” Ouma tutted him. “Some of the monsters you take are mooks. You shouldn’t waste your time.”

“S-Shuuut,” Starboy slurs. He coughs again. “I’m...s’posed to be...a hero. A-A... Luminary.”

It’s because of shit like this that made it was so easy for Ouma to find Momota in the first place.

And Starboy—fucking laughs.

“Even through that stupid mask of yours, I can tell you’re disproving.” He musters up a bit more strength to speak, for all the good that’s doing him. “You’re really worried, huh?”

“I don’t trust Shirokuma,” Dice said simply. “You shouldn’t either.”

Starboy swallows. No doubt swallows back blood. He sucks in his breath. He shakes. He tries to shake his head specifically. Ends up slumping against him. Dice isn’t as gentle with him as Saihara was, but Dice still has little choice but to help him up.

“Stay with me,” Dice ordered. “You’re not allowed to die.”

He’s wasting his breath. Starboy’s definitely going to die at this rate even if it’s not today. All because—

“I’m a hero,” Starboy is slurring. “Heroes don’t—take breaks...they don’t leave people to die.”

“You’re not a hero,” Dice snapped. One step at a time. “You’re just an idiot.”

“It’s not...not about trust...” Starboy huffs at him next. “Not that...you’d understand that... Ouma.”

Dice doesn’t pause. Far from it.

...idiot.

Ouma Kokichi wonders if it’s a coincidence that he and Momota ended up in this situation together.

...

That’s right. Momota Kaito is going to bring you down. The hero! The Luminary! Won’t that be the Ultimate Despair?

(That’s how she would respond.)

Ouma Kokichi, always so close and yet so far, can’t focus on that right now. He has to save the life of a dying man after all. The results are sure to be favorable.

And yet, also so very—predictable.

Boring.

#oumota #oumotaweek2021 #Magi fics

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slugtranslation-hypmic · 4 years

Note

Here’s a pet tax!! This times he’s nuzzling against my arm!

Btw here’s your excuse to talk more about Dice. Or,,,any of Fling Posse! Have fun!

Oh, you enabler, you. Thank you for this opportunity and for the bunny picture.

A collection of thoughts on Dice and why he may very well be the most important character to Ramuda. Put under a cut for some slight TDD spoilers.

Dice’s Personality Traits

Compared to the other two nosy Nancies that make up Fling Posse, Dice himself is the king of minding his own business. While he does display definite interest in his friend’s lives - see asking Riou about his favorite food in the ARB event “Riou’s Kitchen” or discussing Gentarou’s latest story in FP/M chapter 7 - he tends to avoid discussing topics that make others feel uncomfortable.

This can make Dice appear oblivious, but Dice is much more emotionally observant than most characters give him credit for. Let’s take chapter 14 of FP/M for a great example of this. I’ll link it here, and I encourage you to read through it again paying careful attention to his facial expressions.

Dice begins the chapter deep in thought and adopts a solemn facial expression for the next few pages. Something is clearly preoccupying him.

However, the moment Ramuda appears, Dice begins acting much more animated and begins playing along with Ramuda in an attempt to cheer him up. Note that Dice observed Ramuda acting out of sorts for the entire battle in the previous chapters and hasn’t seen Ramuda awake since (according to chapter 15). He’s likely greatly concerned. It is arguable that his reactions are entirely food motivated...

... except for the fact that he returns to his previously somber state the moment Ramuda is no longer looking at him. Dice also doesn’t immediately accept Gentarou’s suggestion that Ramuda is trying to keep up appearances for their sake.

At the restaurant, Dice begins to play up the cheerful glutton again and attempts to directly cheer up Ramuda by operating under the assumption that Ramuda is disappointed by their loss.

When Ramuda goes to leave, the art emphasizes Gentarou’s concern, but the silhouette of Dice (and the lack of any bulging cheeks or cups carried up to his mouth) in the final panel indicates that he has once again returned to his more serious state. In this scene, Dice recognizes that something has gone terribly wrong.

Each member of Fling Posse is a performer putting on an act, and as noted by Ramuda’s reaction to Gentarou invading his privacy, Ramuda feels most comfortable when each actor plays his part. Dice is aware of this and thus acts the cheerful idiot for Ramuda in these scenes because he recognizes that Ramuda needs that stability.

If I may demonstrate another quick example, take a look at the scene from FP/M chapter 12 and compare how Dice acts without (first image) and with a visibly distressed Ramuda (other images) in the room.

The FP/M mangaka also says (in the afterword of volume 3), “I think [Dice] might have a good poker face and be able to control his facial expressions even when he’s flat out broke. But his posse doesn’t seem to understand that.“ Dice’s poker face is a boon here when he can use it to help the ones he cares about.

For Dice does care very greatly. Dice minds his own business and doesn’t make any overt actions as long as his friends are capable of handling situations on their own. However, the moment he recognizes that they are in over their heads, he takes swift and decisive action (which, in turn, can be harmful to others).

Take this scene in FP/M chapter 10 as a great example. Prior to Gentarou grabbing Hifumi, Dice was firmly a bystander, but he immediately leaps in when the situation escalates. Notice that he removes Hifumi from harm’s way but also serves a shield for Gentarou and focuses his attention on Gentarou’s wellbeing.

He then offers Gentarou physical reassurance with a hand on the shoulder and an out to the situation, which would have allowed Gentarou to move on as if his mask had never slipped if it were not for Hifumi’s next comment. Dice also shuts down Hifumi before it can escalate any further.

Although Hifumi is attempting to justify himself because he doesn’t understand Gentarou’s reaction and doesn’t see what he did wong, Dice recognizes that this statement also denies Gentarou the right to express his feelings on something which is clearly an enormous deal to him.

By labeling Hifumi’s comments as “disrespect” and “hurting people” while simultaneously stressing that this topic is “important”, he allows Gentarou the right to feel upset at Hifumi’s comments. He also continues to use defensive posture in order to keep Gentarou physically safe (which must be an intentional choice on the artist’s part, as Hifumi mirrors this pose a few pages later as he begins to defend Doppo). Even though Dice’s reaction crosses the line when he, in turn, begins to hurt someone else, removing Gentarou from the situation, validating his feelings, and making Hifumi stop is exactly what Gentarou needed but was unable to provide for himself.

Dice is a damn good friend and an exceptional person. If you ever find a friend like Dice, don’t let them get away from you.

Saving Ramuda’s Life

Let’s switch gears for a moment to take a look at what goes on in Ramuda’s mind. As a disposable pawn for the Party of Words, Ramuda has an atypical view of the world. He genuinely enjoys the company of others and can form real bonds, but his primary motivation in life is fully self-centered: keep himself alive. Every order he receives comes with the caveat of, “Failure brings death.” The fear of death is enough to drive him to betray his closest friends in TDD, even Jakurai, who clearly means a lot to him.

^ TDD chapter 13. Ramuda receives an order from Ichijiku to handle the Jakurai side of things in the TDD breakup and reflects on the time that Jakurai saw who his true personality and not only accepted it but welcomed it.

Bear with me if you’ve seen me talk about this before, but Ramuda’s ability to feel emotions is considered a fluke. Ichijiku describes it as a “malfunction” and a “nuisance” for his job. She also describes Ramuda himself as a “failure” and “worthless”, sometimes to Ramuda’s face.

Ramuda internalizes this. Notice’s Ramuda’s reactions to slipping up and having an emotional outburst in TDD chapter 9 and FP/M chapter 8.

The former of these features Ramuda looking frightened (either due to concern of losing his life for revealing more than he should have done or fear that Jakurai will consider him as “worthless” as everyone else does), insulting himself, and self-harming. While the insults and self-harm are as stereotypically cute as the rest of Ramuda’s facade, the core idea remains that he believes showing his true personality is as idiotic and worth of punishment as everyone else believes. The lack of self-worth is ingrained in him.

The slightly more grown-up Ramuda in FP/M does not react as dramatically, but I really want to draw your attention to the question, “Was I spooky?” It’s worded in a deliberately silly manner because of Ramuda’s speech style, but he is asking his supposed friends if the real version of himself is frightening. Tell me, Dice. Does seeing me scare you? Do you want to run away now before it’s too late? It’s an innocent question on the surface level, but considering the about face his last friend turned after learning more about Ramuda’s real life and job, this question demonstrates that Ramuda’s view of himself has hardly changed for the positive since then.

(Also please observe Dice’s reaction. The pause is him getting into character in order to cheer up Ramuda after a clear emotional upset.)

Therefore Ramuda is a person running entirely on self-preservation but with no sense of self-worth. He sees himself largely the same way Chuuouku does and expects everyone else to do the same. This greatly limits his worldview and prevents him from considering possible other options besides, “Do or die”.

If most of the other cast members found themselves in Ramuda’s shoes, they would have the knowledge and ability to consider other options such as running away, asking for help, or fighting back. Yet Ramuda never considers any of these. He does not have the life experiences the other cast members have to consider making any of these options. He has never observed them or had an outside source present them as options to him. Once the order comes down the pipeline from Ichijiku, it is set in stone. He can hate the order - take a look at another illustration from TDD chapter 13 - but he considers its execution inevitable.

This is why the order to hypnotize Jakurai in FP/M chapter 11 hits him so hard. Now “do or die” has become “die or die”, and his only decision comes down to the nature of his death.

Yes, this situation could have been avoided by talking to Jakurai. Jakurai gives him multiple opportunities to speak up before and during the battle, but Ramuda doesn’t have the ability to recognize those as options for help. In Ramuda’s book, people don’t help him. “Help” doesn’t exist.

In fact, the entire TDD situation could have been avoided as well if Ramuda had trusted his friends, spoken up, and explained the situation. Jakurai (not to mention Ichirou and Samatoki after a fashion) would almost certainly have helped, and that seems to be what Jakurai was waiting for. Once he pushed Ramuda too hard by accident and caused an outburst, he stepped back and waited for Ramuda to come forward on his own terms. But that’s utterly foolish, because Ramuda doesn’t operate on his own terms either. Ramuda doesn’t have his own terms. He lives and thinks the way the Party of Words wants him to think, and if the Party of Words does not want him to speak up and ask for help, then he will never, ever be able to.

The beauty is that Dice is not Jakurai. As mentioned above, Dice minds his own business up until the point a friend of his is over their head, and it’s when Ramuda starts to pull out the True Hypnosis Mic in order to kill himself for Chuuouku that Dice finally acts.

As is the case with Gentarou up above, Dice acknowledges that he doesn’t fully understand the situation but offers physical reassurance, advice, and the implicit argument that Ramuda’s real strength is something of value. Dice writes the word “help” into Ramuda’s dictionary with genuine love and affection.

While Ramuda still can’t consider any option other than “do or die”, it is Dice and Gentarou’s intervention that imbues him with enough self-worth to even consider placing his own wants and needs above Chuuouku’s.

It is this that lays the groundwork for The Loneliness, Tears, and Hope of a Puppet and gives Ramuda the basic agency to even consider acting for himself and, contrarily, acting in line with consideration for other people. It’s this that allows him to avoid ruining Jakurai’s life a second time and this that allows him to accept Gentarou and Dice’s promise of friendship. In the drama track itself, once again it is Dice and Gentarou intervening and challenging Ramuda’s preconceived notions in order to save his life.

Gentarou absolutely plays a vital role in this as well, but it is Dice that chooses to make the first move. Had he not said anything, Ramuda would have used the True Hypnosis Mic and died onstage in front of the audience.

It is sometimes the tiniest of actions and the smallest pieces of support that make all the difference. Sometimes all it takes is someone being unafraid to reach out and flip a die over so it lands on a different number.

#not a translation #asks #dice arisugawa

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sacklerscumrag · 4 years

Text

Part III of III: Stay With Me Series

Clyde Logan X Female Reader

Summary: A Halloween party at Duck Tape and meeting Clyde’s family? This was going to be one hell of a night.

Warnings: fluff, smut, PIV sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex

Word Count: 2.2K

Part I Part II ao3

Halloween was tomorrow and Boone County certainly seemed to look the part. The streets were decorated with dense foliage in stunning colors of crimson red and burnt orange with pumpkins on every corner. Your mind was still buzzing with memories from your date with Clyde the other night when all of a sudden, your phone buzzed, snapping you out of it. It was him.

“Hey Clyde” your stomach jumped when you answered the phone.

“Hey Darlin, how’s yer day goin?” the sounds of glasses being set down could be heard on the other side of the phone.

“Not so bad, bookstores been busy with Halloween being so close”

“That’s actually what I was callin bout. Wanna come to a Halloween party were throwin here at the bar tomorrow? We do it every year, it’s a lotta fun and everybody gets real dressed up n all” you could hear him clear his throat, it warmed your heart knowing he still got himself worked up over you.

“That sounds fun, what time?”

“Well I gotta be there earlier to set up n all that but ya can come around 10 if ya want. Is that alright?”

“Of course, I’ll see you tomorrow then” you smirked while fiddling with the pages in your book.

“See ya tomorrow beautiful” you hung up the phone when it hit you. You had less than one day to put together a costume. Shit.

Clydes POV

Clyde let out a deep breath as he hung up the phone and continued drying empty whiskey glasses. No matter how many times he spoke to you, it never failed to make him nervous. He continued wiping down the bar, losing himself in his thoughts about you. He was sure you had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen and the way you crinkled your nose when you laughed just a little too hard, well that just about made him melt on the spot. And you smelled so good, god how did you smell so fucking delicious all the time, that was beyond him. His thoughts lingered before memories of the other night flooded his mind. The way it felt to have your body enveloped in his, the warmth of your skin under his palm, having you squirm in his lap while making those beautiful sounds was enough to make him cum in his pants.

Clyde could feel himself getting hard in his jeans, quickly reaching down to adjust himself, thinking to himself dammit Clyde ya gotta get yer head on straight before Earl comes back in here n sees you. Quickly he grabbed a crate of decorations and headed to the entrance, a smile playing on his face at the thought of seeing you again tomorrow. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Readers POV

Scrambling around your house, you finally figured out your costume for tonight. Putting together a red halter top, red shorts, some fishnet stockings, your favorite heel ankle boots along with some horns for your Devil costume. You grabbed your phone, laid out your outfit on your bed, and snapped a picture to send to Clyde.

Decided on a Devil for tomorrow night, too much?

Yer gonna be wearin that tomorrow? Jesus Darlin, ya tryin to give me a heart attack

Just wanted to make sure you liked it, but I guess I got my answer haha

Can’t wait to see it on ya. I’m gonna have to try to keep ma hands to myself, won’t make any promises though ;)

I hope you don’t :) see you tomorrow, goodnight Clyde

Goodnight beautiful ------------------------------------------------------------

It seemed like everyone in Boone County was at Duck Tape tonight. As you walked into the bar, your eyes immediately found Clyde’s. He ducked under the side of the bar and walked over to you, cupping your face with both hands and bringing you into a searing kiss. He tasted like bourbon and burnt bacon, your favorite. “Hey baby, you look amazin” he said as he kept his forehead pressed against yours, your noses brushing against each other. You wrapped your arms around his neck and looked up at him.

“Hey, handsome”

Clyde quickly released you as he saw more patrons making their way inside. He kissed your forehead before stepping away and into the bar. You sat on one end, watching as he moved so flawlessly along the bar, making everyone’s drink, greeting all the regulars, never missing a beat.

“Well well well ya must be Clyde’s new little lady” startling you, a man sat down next to you.

“Now Jimmy don’t go scarin the poor girl. Hi sweetie, I’m Mellie, Clyde’s sister and this here’s my idiot brother Jimmy” she reached out her hand to shake yours. Clyde being as busy as he was made his way to your corner of the bar.

“There he is the man of the hour. When were ya gonna introduce us to yer new girl here?” Jimmy gestured to you with his beer bottle, teasing Clyde. You looked over at Clyde who was giving Jimmy a death stare if there ever was one. Placing your hand over his, you brought his attention back to you.

“Can I get a drink baby?” you said trying to diffuse the situation. Clyde let out a breath, smiled, and nodded before walking over to where the bottles were sitting to make you your drink. You could hear Mellie and Jimmy giggling behind you, it was going to be a long night.

------------------------------------------------------------

You spent hours sitting with Mellie and Jimmy, laughing at all of their nonsense, hearing stories about Clyde when they were younger, the Logan siblings making you feel right at home. After all those stories and one too many beers, they decided to call it a night and head out. Even the regulars started to make their way home as the night dwindled. You and Clyde had been making eyes at each other all night, spacing out while Mellie told you her wild stories to look at Clyde. Watching him bartend was getting you more worked up than you cared to admit. Having to adjust yourself in your seat every so often, you could feel your arousal forming. Clyde thanked Earl for the help, and he waved to you as he left. Clyde put the last of the glasses away in the storage closet and made his way back out to you. You were standing facing the bar when you felt Clyde’s hands wrap around your waist.

“Hey Darlin, you ready to head out?” he whispered in your ear as you turned in his arms and placed your hands on his chest. He looked down at you, eyes scanning your face with a smile. “Not quite” you said as you cupped his face in your hands and brought your lips to his.

“Darlin, are ya sure? Now?” you nodded, biting your lower lip, tiptoeing to bring your face closer to his.

“I want you, Clyde Logan. Right here. Right now.” You whispered to him. That was all the encouragement he needed before his lips were on yours again. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to him and you could already feel his erection pressing up against your thigh. He moved to take off your tank top disposing of it on the floor. The kiss grew hungrier as he walked you back towards the bar. Clyde cupped your ass, moving his hands under your thighs to hoist you up onto the bar top.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you moved to undo the buttons on his shirt, tearing it open, wanting to feel as much of him as possible. You were glad he decided not to wear an undershirt tonight as you ran your hands all over his sculpted chest down to the waistband of his jeans, working to undo his belt. Clyde placed hot, wet kisses on your neck, working his way to your shoulder. He hooked his thumbs on your shorts, sliding them down along with your fishnets. Reaching your hand around, you unclasped your bra, throwing it to the side while he continued his kisses.

“Ya looked so fuckin hot tonight. I had to stop looking at ya to stop ma self from getting hard at the bar. Fuck you’re so beautiful” he said in between placing kisses on each breast, pinching one nipple between his fingers while taking his time nipping and biting the other one. His hand made its way down ghosting over your panties, feeling the wet spot that had already formed.

“Mmm you’re dripping all over my bar baby” you moaned as he removed your underwear. Clyde swiped two fingers along your folds, collecting your slick, teasing you. The sensation making you shiver, your aching clit begging for attention.

“Ya like that don’t you Darlin? Had ya cumin all over em the other night” you nod, trying your best to hold back your moans.

“Please Clyde”

“Tell me what ya need baby girl, ya gotta use yer words” continuing to run his fingers along your cunt, not quite touching where you needed it most.

“Please Clyde I-I need you” you whimpered as he pushed two thick fingers inside, before pulling them back out.

“Gotta taste ya first baby” he motioned you to lay back, keeping one hand flat on your stomach and throwing your legs over his shoulder before burying his face in between your thighs.

You ran your hands through his hair, guiding him further into your core until you felt his nose press deliciously on your clit. The pressure making you buck your hips towards him. Clyde’s movements started to speed up as he focused on that sensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue working, teasing you while keeping his steady rhythm. Making you moan louder than you have before.

“Ya taste so good. So fuckin good baby girl”

Your grip on his hair tightened when your orgasm crashed over you. Clyde lapped up all of your juices, taking his time until you came down from your high. You felt him pull away and step back to slide his jeans and briefs off in one move. His lips and beard glistening with your slick.

“I have a condom in ma pocket”

“Don’t bother. I’m on the pill” he smiled, kicking his pants and briefs to the side.

His throbbing cock sprang free from the confines of his briefs, the tip slick with pre-cum. The size alone had you drooling at the sight. You immediately felt your cunt clench on nothing from just looking at him as Clyde made his way back to you. Placing your hand on his chest, you stopped him.

“Lay down on the bar” you whispered in his ear, sending a shiver down Clyde’s spine, all the way to his cock. He looked at you, before climbing on the bar and laying down. You followed and straddled Clyde, your heated cunt grazing over his cock making it twitch. His eyes darkened, full of lust as he watched you coat him in your wetness before sinking on him slowly.

Clyde’s mechanical hand rested on one of your thighs while his other hand cupped your ass as he watched you take all of him. The feeling of him filling you up, stretching you like never before almost being enough to bring you to your second orgasm of the night. You started to gyrate your hips, finding your rhythm, his cock hitting all sorts of new angles making you both cry out. His hands held on tight to your hips, guiding you as you rode him on the bar.

“Clyde I’m so close. Fuck, you feel so good” you moaned when you felt him slide his thumb between both of your bodies to rub your throbbing clit.

“C’mon baby. Gotta cum one more time fer me” he applied more pressure as you picked your pace. Both sensations sending you over the edge as you came hard on Clyde’s cock. Your cunt fluttering and pulsating squeezing him around him, squeezing him so tight. Panting your body fell flush on Clyde’s chest. He placed his hands under your thighs, pushing you slightly forward just enough for him to plant his feet on the bar top before he started pounding into you. The sounds of skin slapping filling the bar as he mercilessly fucked you at an agonizing pace. Clyde couldn’t take his eyes off of you, the way you were writhing in pleasure as your breasts bouncing with every thrust. He plunged into you one last time as far as he could go before reaching his own orgasm and filling you to the brim with his cum. He held you close, panting until he came down from his orgasm.

Clyde caressed your hair, his chest rising and falling, covered in sweat while you both laid there, bodies satisfied and spent. You put your chin on Clyde’s chest looking up at him, his eyes dazed with pleasure and a goofy grin across his face as he looked back at you.

“I love you Clyde, and I know it may be too early for that and now might not be the best time. And it’s okay if you don’t feel it too, I just had to say it before it drove me crazy”

“I love you too Darlin. Have fer a while now, just didn’t want to scare ya off and say it too soon. But I do, I love you” you didn’t think twice before pushing yourself up to kiss him. Leaning your elbows on either side of his head, letting your fingers run through his hair as you kissed him deeply. You wanted to stay in this moment forever.

#clyde logan #logan lucky #clyde logan x reader #fall series

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twilightprince101 · 3 years

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I just experienced, possibly one of the greatest “Limiters Off” moments in HADES

So I got into Hades around Christmas, got it as a gift and had it for a month. All in all it’s a pretty good rouge-like, had a lot of fun with it. Dialogue was really good, story was intriguing and I really liked the gameplay style.

But after having it for one month and just completed my second successful run, I have a story that I NEED to share with you all.

In my first few runs I did stuff somewhat standard, went through collecting everything. I unlocked all the weapons and am slowly getting all the aspects, I’m getting all the keepsakes, and I’m even trying for all the contractor upgrades.

Out of everything though there’s one difference I made: I wanted to improve my skills above all first. I played through Enter the Gungeon and got lots of my bullet hell experience from there, and a lot of the permanent upgrades you get are things you find in the Gungeon, no health or anything like that. You may have gotten good guns, but your skill how you use those guns determined whether you win or lose.

So I wanted to do the same here: I didn’t want to upgrade my darkness at all.

So I did just that. I went and unlocked all of the mirror, but save for the extra dash I didn’t go for anything else. Until I beat a run I didn’t want to upgrade my skills at all. In an attempt to prove myself? To punish myself? To spite god? Who knows.

For 48 runs I went through this, struggling my way up the underworld. There were countless idiot deaths along the way (fuck those bomb chariots man), but I slowly improved. I did cave twice in upgrading backstab and bloodstone damage, but I kept stockpiling the rest of the darkness.

By run 49 I had nearly beaten Hades himself twice, just barely getting his healthbar down to zero before dying. Around this time I had, no joke, over 4,000 darkness stockpiled. But aside from those three upgrades and trading I never used a drop.

Then the run came: Number 50. I used the Chaos Shield with Zeus’s aspect (which is pretty fucking good might I add paired with his boons) and after just BARELY scraping by, I had done it. My first Hades run ever, complete.

Naturally it was a rush, and after experiencing more of the lovely story I wanted to go again. So I went back and (after checking out the Pact of Punishment additions) I decided it was finally time to use all that darkness. If I had been able to improve to the point where I can beat Hades with minimal upgrades, I think I deserved it.

And it was glorious.

I went all the way down the list getting as much upgrades as possible (only one death defiance tho), picking and choosing certain perks for a good build. Then by the time all my darkness had run out, I had went from this:

TO THIS

Absolutely fucking marvelous.

Despite it being almost 1 AM on a school day I had to try again with all these upgrades. To test my power with all these upgrades I decided to go with one of the more fun challenges in the Pact: Speedrunning each region in under 9 minutes.

And to say that I felt like the god of absolute mayhem and destruction during that time would be the biggest understatement alive.

With all the upgrades and the Poseidon variant of Stygeus, I absolutely FLEW through all of the underworld! Using Dementer, Poseidon, Athena and Ares’s boons I sped through everything at once! In two minutes I was out of Tartarus, in six I was done with Asphodel, and before the clock even hit twelve I was done with Elysium.

And keep in mind: all of these upgrades I was supposed to be collecting from the start! The intended way to play is to get these upgrades first chance you get! But now with my improved skills and the upgrades combined, I absolutely DECIMATED everything! Gone! Reduced to atoms!!!

So then on Run 51, one month since starting this game and IMMEDIATELY after my first successful run, I did it again. 23 minutes, full upgrades, and not a single Death Defiance activated the whole way.

Did I tell this story just to flex? Kinda! But to be honest I just had so much fucking fun letting loose that I had to share it! I know there’s plenty of more challenging options in the pact to come, and believe me when I say:

I ACCEPT THAT CHALLENGE

#HADES #HADES game #supergiant games #supergiant #hades supergiant #Twi talks #((GOD this was so fucking fun #and on my birthday too!!#what a fucking treat today was))

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lady-daydream · 4 years

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Fallout New Vegas Companions Reactions/Thoughts on Classical Music

As requested this ones for you @winged-light-collectors-posts , I'm sorry it took so long, I hope this is okay, the reacts aren't as long as I would have liked however I found that got stumped by a few of the characters. If I missed anyone please let me know. And also you seem like a lovely person and your love of classical music was really refreshing :)

Once again I apologise for spelling error, I am horrible at spell checking. If anyone has any imaginations or reactions from fallout 3-4 or new Vegas just comment or send a request. Hope you all enjoy and have an amazing day -Love you all <3

Btw if anyone cares I listened to Tchaikovsky 1812 overture with cannons, Clair De lune Ethereal remix, and chop in Ballade No.4 in F minor ethereal remix while writing

Arcade: It wasn't the first time he had heard Classical music, due to some of the enclave radios having classical music paired to their broadcasts. Surprisingly, despite the memory of the music being attached to his past he enjoys it. Even commenting to you once or twice when he would recall his mum listening to certain songs when she was alive. He also preferred the soothing factor to classical which he found made it easier to focus compared to some of the limited other choices available. So whenever you both are resting or are setting up camp the both of you may be found relax doing your respected activities such as repairing weapons and reading while Tchaikovsky or Rachmaninov plays in the background.

Boone: He didn't have a strong opinion on what music the courier listened to while traveling with him. While serving he learnt that music of all different genres helped soldiers relax, or reminded them of happier times or just of home. Though he did wander from time to time what the genre of music said about a person.However he normally didn't think too hard about it or just didn't want to go down that rabbit hole of a thought process. Through travelling with you over time he slowly learnt to warm up to some songs, with calmer songs such as those by Chopin being his favourites though he would never tell you. And on rare occasions when you both are travelling and he can see the night sky, the classical music helps him relax enough to close his eyes even for a moment without his own ghosts haunting him.

Cassidy: Similar to Boone, she was indifferent to classical music. Though every so often while travelling with you she may comment that it reminded her of a few mornings she had woken up in bars across the wasteland, with a hangover stronger than an radscorpions sting. She did find it annoying whenever the courier seemed to stop and become engrossed in the music, moaning how they were burning daylight. However when the both of you are drunk, the both of you may try and make lyrics to classical tunes, curses and dirty lyrics included until the both of you are rolling on the floor laughing on the ground like idiots or somehow turn certain sounds in the songs into drinking games.

Ed-e: The both of you enjoy classical music, the robot bopping along with the courier whistling along side. It always made you smile when you would hear happy beeping noises whenever a certain song would comes on the radio. After travelling for a while, Ed-e starts to play certain tunes himself, some of which he must have recorded while Whitley was in the room, as sometimes a person humming or a small mutter or comment can be heard. You knew how important Whitley was, almost like a father to Ed-e as after a while the mans comments blend into the music itself . However you wandered if Ed-e recorded the two of you listening to music similar to Whitley as sometimes while stopping to set up camp for the night Ed-e seems oddly quiet while the two off you listen to your pip-boy. However even if he was recording you didn't mind, you were more happy that Ed-e saw you as important enough to him to want to remember your times together.

Follows-Chalk: Neither of you had really listened to classical before meeting, and Follows-Chalk hadn't heard it at all. However while searching for a certain radio station while travelling with him you stumbled across the classical music station. Follows-chalk instantly loves it. Whistling some of the tunes he had heard while you travel together. Sometimes commenting on the differences between the music he had heard from the travelling singer when he was younger as well as some of the songs his tribe would sing. He would sometimes even teach you some in return for playing some classical music. He always has questions about the artists and their meanings, which you would often reply that it was up to him and how the music made him feel. And so sometimes when the both of you are travelling you may share what the music makes you both feel and think of, helping you both understand each other better.

Joshua: Listening to it was a kick from the past, as memories of listening to it while he was living in New Canaan with his family long before Caesar come flooding back the first time he heard or listening to it. He tried to enjoy the music as much as possible,trying to hold on to the more positive memories of his family- of his father and mother listening to it while doing other activities, memories childhood friends and the misadventures of kids all while having classical music in the background as they all got up to mischief. These memories did leave a smile that hurt as it pulled at burnt calloused skin. However through listening he was also reminded of the absences.The new Cannans destruction, of his family's and friend death. How his love of the music had dissolved as he got closer to Caesar and further away from his childhood and home. You notice he gets slightly quieter when you play the music and If you ask him if he is okay he will comment on these memories, not going into too much detail unless questioned further, respecting your one associations of the music don't need to be shared with his. After travelling a while, slowly he would try and dissociate the music with his memories replacing them with more positive moments while travelling you or just letting the sound of the music flow through him. On very rare occasion he might even ask you if he may offer to dance, commenting that he learnt from a few dances and events the town had in his youth. Mostly however, he is just glad he was able to listen to the music with you, using the calming music to just focus on the two of you and the peace the music brought him.

The King: On first listening he didn't like it. He didn't mind you listening to it if he saw it made you happy; however, he would always recommend songs from ‘the king” on holotapes he had. Both of you at first choose to respect each other's opinions. After a while though both of you made a deal. For every song he listened to of your preferred genre of music, you would listen to one he wanted you to listen to. So it became a routine. Whenever he knew you had a long journey he would slip you holotapes with songs such as ‘suspicious minds’ and ‘stuck on you’ and in return when alone The king would listen to the radio station you recommended. After a while you both soften up to each others music and as the both of you got closer you both associate certain lyrics and songs to each other, with the songs ‘Can't Help Falling In Love’ and ‘Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No.2′ holding a special place in both of your hearts. When things get more serious, he might even sing small medley of songs from either genres that you stated you like more, and would even nickname you his ‘symphony’ or his “song bird” if you try to sing any of the songs he likes.

Raul: When you listened to classical music with him for the first time he laughed, sarcastically commenting on “isn't this music a little too old for you, boss?” or “Mi abuela would have loved you”. Plus if you enjoyed the music he didn't really mind. If the radio station had different regional classical music, Raul would happily translate any lyrics if need be if he recognised it, commenting of different memories of his family if the both of you were comfortable enough sharing.Unlike other companions he was able to educate you on some of the instruments used and just the basic knowledge he would have known before the bombs fell. Once or twice though if you are both relaxed (and if you have had a few to drink) you might ask him to dance to some of the more energetic classical songs. And though he will resort to comments about his knees can't handle dancing, and how “you are a few 100 years too late to be asking him to dance”. He still will dance anyway laughing at the joy you brought with you - as well as both of your dancing ability.

Veronica: ’”Didn't think classical music was your thing, but hey to each their own I guess- was told it helps focus, but idk.If I had someone playing a violin next to me I'm pretty sure I would have a difficult time focusing”. She had listened to music before meeting you, however much preferred learning pre-war information from long forgotten technology more than listening to it. As such whenever you are both listening she would randomly tell you small random facts about composers such as “.hey, did you know Edvard Grieg had a good-luck figurine. It was a little frog that he would pat before a concert- found that out on an old library achieve. wonder why he thought the frog was so lucky. - hey maybe I'm your lucky charm y/n”. However she wonders why classical music was associated with intelligence at the time since, anyone can listen to the music, so what made it so intellectual, or was it just that the skill it takes to play an instrument made it associated with knowledge.

Ulysses:He collects all pre-war music he can. He enjoys listening to just his surrounding and the silence that would sometimes bring. He also enjoys focusing on music and was surprised by how many classical music recordings he found while travelling. He enjoyed what each song means by its self but also how the music and the meaning behind it still remained even years after their creators and original audiences had died. He did sometimes wonder what message the listeners were supposed to take away however he knows that answer is one of many lost by time. At first he is rather hesitant about even bringing up the subject, due to you're association of destroying the traces of the old world, However through gaining his trust he slowly opens up about it and will let you sit and listen with him.He will sometimes ask you what you think the meaning is or what you think of the song and sometimes comment that he wonder if the creators would imagine someone like him listening to their music, a lone man sitting one the edge of a cliff, watching over the past while protecting the present from the threats of tunnelers and marked men or the significance their music would have on a person. When you join him, you normal listen in silence broken by occasional discussion. Allowing you both you be in your own thought. However even if it is just your presence next to him or you holding his hand or sometimes falling asleep resting against him, he is glad he isn't completely alone and that you understand, even if it is just a little bit, the importance the music is to him.

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monochromemedic · 4 years

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No Man’s Land Rush

I tapped the pip boy screen, staring at the distant air force base in the middle of exploded wreckage. “Are uh... are we sure that this is the place? The-the Boomer’s place?” I asked Boone as I shoved the screen in front of his face. He raised a brow as he checked, before he nodded. “Well... there is bomb wreckage.” He muttered. I gave a nervous laugh, rubbing my arms and shifting back and forth. “W...well I mean uh, we don’t NEED to go in there right? Not like we can, they have a million of missiles, and bombs and god knows what, we wouldn’t get even close so, why try?!” I smiled wide at Boone, expecting to see his calm collected face. Instead I was met with an odd sweaty face, his brows furrowed and his lips pressed into a frown. “Yeah, see, we don’t need to go in there, cause we can’t.-” “You trying to pass into Boomer territory? Are you crazy?” We both turned to see a man, peaking over to the air force base before staring back at us. “Why would you even consider going in there?” “It’s... a long story.” Boone grumbled “Well... whatever the reason, I do have idea of a way to get around. I’ve kinda been watching this place for a while, and i’ve noticed a possible way in... for a few caps.” I gave a huff, staring up at Boone and putting a hand on my hip in thought. “Mm... how much?” “300. And i’ll make you a deal. I’m a gambling kinda man. If I give you the details on what I know, and if you get back i’ll double the caps.” I grimaced, scratching the bullet scar on my head as I tried to wager our options. But before I could think Boone reached into my bag, pulling out the caps and shoving it into the mans hands. My eyes widened in shocked as the man smiled, and began to relay the information to us. “Stay to the left side. The Boomers need time to reload so when you hear a mortar coming, take cover in the wreckage, then move from house to house till you get close enough. They won’t bomb their own people.” He quickly sputtered, before quickly backing up a few steps, waving his hand away. “G-good luck!” “Boone, why the hell would you- BOONE!” My thoughts where interrupted as I expect to see Boone still beside me, only to see him sprinting full speed into the no man zone. Without thought I trailed after him, jogging faster than I thought my legs could possibly carry me. The first blast of a mortar rang through the air, and Boone disappeared into the rubble like a true soldier. I on the other hand, had to jump to cover, the thud of the bomb landing a few feet away, blasting me a bit farther then expected. I gasped as the wind was nearly knocked out of me, my face bleeding from hitting a piece of stone from the blow back. “Craig!... Craig?!” The fuzzy familiar shape wavered in my vision before beginning to spring to the next wrecked building. Another crash of shrapnel, and dirt from the distance as my ears rang in pain. I had to get to him, I had to get us back to safety. Was he insane? What the hell was he doing? I stumbled to my feet and began to run again, darting to the shape of Boone nearing the fenced gate of the Boomers. A final shot rang out, a last ditch attempt to get rid of the intruders on their territory. And I knew it’d be aiming for me instead of Boone. With the last amount of energy I could muster, I pushed myself to run even faster, feeling the pain in my calves as I swerved around rubble and ditches, and diving straight into Boone as we reached the fence, both of us tumbling to the ground. Everything was blurry, my eyes were shaking in my head, and nothing felt truly real. I was sure that I had be blasted a little while ago, and it was my ghost that was somehow running the rest of the way here. As my senses began to come back to me, I made eye contact with a man in a bomber jacket, holding a rocket launcher on the other side of the fence. “H-how the hell did you get through our barrages? No one’s gotten through before.” He said, obviously in total shock. Boone was the first to get back to his feet, pulling himself up with the help of the fence as he muttered out a small “Timing... just want to talk.” The man in the jacket turned to an older woman who began to whisper things to him before silently arguing back to the smiling woman. Great, just what we needed, more tension. “Craig what the fuck was that? Are you insane? We could have died, why did you just go alone?!” I screamed as I clawed myself up his body, grabbing his face and making him turn towards me. He tried to push away but my grip was tight, tight enough to surprise the soldier at my intense anger. Usually I was passive when it came to him, especially with how upfront and harsh he could be. The sudden change of power must have caught him off guard. “I thought that if we got the Boomers on our side, it’d be an obvious win. If I blew up trying to get there, no harm.... It was win-win. But since we got here in one piece, I guess it turned out better then expected.” “W-.... WIN WIN? YOU FUCKING PSYCHOPATH!” I screeched, smacking his face into the fence in a bout of pure rage, head in pure pain from the bullet wound from Benny acting up, causing blood to pour from my nose and mouth. “I KNOW YOUR ON SOME SORT OF SUICIDE MISSION BUT DOING THIS IS JUST IDIOTIC! YOU STUPID.... SOLDIER... PRICK!” The two Boomers stared in confusion as the two of us began to wrestle, grabbing arms to stop one from attacking, ending up pinning each other more and banging Boone’s head against the fence again. It didn’t help when I only switched from how much I hated him, and how stupid he was to how much I cared about him and loved him. “Stupid fucker! What would I do without you huh? You know how much I like you, how much you mean to me! Doing something like that without thinking, without me!? Give me a god damn heart attack, you dumb, bastard!” “STOP. Stop it! Get your hands out of my mouth, get them OUT OF MY MOUTH” He ordered back, hands pushing my face away from him. “Should... um... should we let them in?” The man in the bomber jacket asked, lowering his weapon as he realized that the two outsiders were more of a danger to each other then to him. “...Well... they did manage to get through. I say they’ve proven themselves worthy of their skill. Besides, it’s time we let the savages in and try to make contact again.” The older woman told him, watching as Boone bit a finger of mine, making me screech in pain. “Eh... maybe after they’re done fighting.”

#fallout new vegas #fallout boone #fallout nv boone #self insert

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calamity-bean · 5 years

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the angry prince of goofs

I’ve been thinking about Ziggy Sobotka, which was probably my first mistake, and especially about one little detail that’s demonstrated repeatedly but not really explored in depth: Ziggy is good with technology.

Better than most of the characters in his orbit, at any rate; he understands computers, understands the internet, has to explain digital cameras and search engines to Nick, who still seems confused. And while, even for 2003, I wouldn’t claim he’s a technical genius, this detail stands out to me partly because it’s one area in which he’s expressly shown to be more capable than his cousin — typically the far more competent of the pair — and partly because he tends to get written off, both in-universe and out, as, well... an idiot. A stupid guy who does stupid things simply because he’s stupid, with no greater character depth or complexity than that.

And that... kinda irks me! Look, I get why Ziggy’s not exactly a fan favorite. He’s not cool. He’s not a badass. He’s immature and abrasive and makes a lot of frustrating decisions, and I get why so many viewers find that annoying, I really do. But although he can certainly be a dumbass, I’m honestly not convinced that he’s dumb, and I think it does a disservice to the writing of the season and to James Ransone’s performance (easily among his best work, imo, out of the roles I’ve seen him in) to boil Zig down to just a clueless annoyance with no regard for why he acts the way he does or his value to the overall narrative.

So I’ve been thinking about Ziggy Sobotka, and types of intelligence, and finding one’s place in the world, and how Ziggy’s character arc relates to The Wire’s overarching theme of a changing city at the dawn of the new millennium.

Twice, over the course of the season, Ziggy’s mentioned in connection with college.

The first time is in 2.06, as Frank chews him out about literally burning money at the bar — definitely one of those moments that baffles and enrages viewers, cause oh my GOD, Zig, Nick goes to all that trouble for you, and then you burn a hundred dollar bill? What the heck, man. But I love this scene with Frank. It’s Ziggy at his most subdued and collected; it’s one of maybe two substantial conversations between father and son all season; and it reveals that Ziggy is capable of being far more observant than he often seems. Frank, frustrated with the lack of employment available for Ziggy, vents, “Maybe if I’d have listened to your mother, cause she’s the one always talking about you should do the community college, like your brother.” Why would Frank let one son continue his education, but not the other? Well, I have to read between the lines here, but I don’t think it’s outlandish to guess that it’s because Ziggy is — or was supposed to be — Frank’s heir. We know he’s Frank’s firstborn, and we know that for Frank, working on the docks is more than an occupation; it’s a cherished family legacy going back generations and a huge point of pride. Ziggy was probably always earmarked to follow in his father’s footsteps, and he probably always knew it. “You wanna know what I remember?” he says, and describes the education he did receive: a life spent paying careful attention to his father’s world. “Everything. Everything.” College just was not a necessary part of the life planned for him.

But there’s absolutely no future on the docks for Ziggy, and by this point, father and son both know it. It’s a rapidly dying profession with scarce shifts available for L-series juniors, so maybe it’s no surprise Zig puts a lot more effort into being a thief and drug dealer than he does into being a checker. Unfortunately, despite seeming fairly adept in logical-mathematical intelligence (technical knowledge, facts/figures, coming up with plans), Ziggy fumbles in all these pursuits because of one type of intelligence that he definitely does lack: interpersonal/social skills — i.e., the ability to read a room and to play well with others. He constantly annoys people, never realizes he’s being tricked until it’s too late, and lets emotion get the better of him, leading him to be irresponsible and impulsive and seek instant gratification. This is, again, in contrast to Nick, who is much less tech savvy than Zig but far more personable and reliable. People like Nick. They trust Nick. Even Frank seems to have a closer relationship with his nephew than with his own son.

And this feeds into a critical difference between Nick and Ziggy. Nick, with Aimee and Ashley to support, is primarily motivated by a need for money; Ziggy, on the other hand, cares less and less about money as the season progresses and is primarily motivated by a desire for something Nick already has: respect. More broadly, Zig craves the validation of others, whether that validation comes to him as respect or approval or even just attention. This, more than immaturity and definitely more than a simple lack of intelligence, is what drives his behavior, including his most reckless or seemingly inexplicable acts. In some circumstances, it inspires him to act like a tough guy; in others, it manifests in childish clownery like whipping out Pretty Boy or waltzing around with a seeing-eye duck, as though he were a comedian playing to a crowd. It’s why he wastes his money on showy status symbols, like Princess and a $2,000 coat, or on buying rounds for the bar. And of course, it manifests in trying to show up his father, who seems to have plenty of time and money for all the other stevedores and yet, by his own admission, pays scant attention to his own son except when Zig screws up... which, needless to say, Zig has a bit of a chip on his shoulder about.

The irony, of course, is that the harder Ziggy tries to impress people, the less it works. His attempts to act tough get him trounced. The other stevedores are happy to let him buy drinks and play class clown, but they are very much laughing at him rather than with him, and the same guys who egg him on and flatter him always turn right around and scoff at what a fool he is after it blows up in his face. His biggest attempt to prove himself is the car heist... which actually goes off without a hitch! Like I said, Zig’s not bad at logistical planning; he comes up with a clever scheme and carries it out successfully. It should’ve been a triumph for him — proving that he could handle himself, that he didn’t need Nick or Frank looking out for him and deserved to be treated like a valid player in the game. But Glekas, like everyone else, saw Ziggy as easy to take advantage of and too weak to effectively retaliate. If it were earlier in the season, he’d have been right, just like every other time Zig wound up tricked and humiliated. Unfortunately for everyone involved, though, by that point, Ziggy — impulsive, hotblooded Ziggy — was “tired of being the punchline to every joke.”

The Wire: Truth Be Told (which I haven’t gotten to read beyond previews) calls Ziggy the “angry prince of goofs.” I think that, more than anything, Ziggy is someone who keeps trying on different costumes and never finds one that fits. He was supposed to carry on the Sobotka stevedore legacy, but the profession is dying, and even if it weren’t, Nick is far more an heir apparent to Frank than Ziggy is. So he tries to be a tough guy, but isn’t; tries to be the sort of cool, funny guy people like and admire, but can’t; tries to prove himself as a player, but makes mistake after mistake until he screws up so horribly that there’s no coming back from it. When Frank tells him that what he did to Glekas and the store clerk isn’t him, Ziggy replies incredulously, “It ain’t?” — because it is him, he did that! But he’s not suited to being a killer, either; he immediately falls apart with horror and remorse. So what is he? Who is he? Was there anything he could have succeeded at, any way he could’ve made better choices than he did?

In 2.10, shortly after Ziggy’s arrest, we meet Priscilla Katlow — the same girl listed on the fake paternity papers Zig gets pranked with in 2.07. In the earlier episode, Nick implies that Prissy is, to be crass, kind of the neighborhood bicycle, making it sound like she was nothing more to Zig than a one-night stand. I have a lot of feelings about the fact that it turns out she’s actually a childhood friend who’s visibly in tears over Ziggy’s situation when she finds Nick grieving on the playground of their old school. They’re maybe the only two characters we see who seem to not only care about Ziggy but genuinely like him, and they reminisce about a time, years ago, when he was supposed to buy them all some SoCo and Pikesville Rye. Instead, he bought Boone’s Farm — because, he claimed, “that’s what the college kids drank.” Then, while drinking it on that same playground, he shouted, “College kids ain’t shit!” And I know I’m really galaxy-braining here, really reading a lot into just a few lines, but I can’t help but wonder, like… This seems to have taken place toward the end of high school, since Prissy was driving her mom’s car and Ziggy could pull off a fake ID. Ziggy probably already knew that he was bound for the docks right after graduation, if he wasn’t working there already; Frank wasn’t even entertaining Zig’s mother’s wish that they send him to college instead. And I wonder if, to some extent, Zig resented that? Or resented not having a choice? Because this anecdote implies a mixture of wanting to emulate those college kids (drinking what he thinks they drink) while simultaneously deriding them — perhaps because he knew that he couldn’t be one, no matter whether or not he wanted to, and therefore had to act like the entire concept was beneath him.

I don’t know whether Zig would’ve done better in college anyway. I think that, contrary to popular opinion, he did have his own areas of intelligence and competence, but despite being in some ways the more “book smart” of the Sobotka cousins (Ziggy’s technical knowledge vs. Nick’s common sense), maybe he’d have been too immature to put in the work for school, too lazy or too proud to try. But I just wonder if he might’ve had a better chance at life that way, both in terms of staying out of trouble and of possibly finding a field that would’ve better rewarded his skill-set. Insofar as The Wire in general is about the changing face of Baltimore and how the shifting infrastructure of the city impacts the individuals within it (particularly the economically marginalized), and insofar as season 2 specifically is about the death of American industry and of the traditional blue-collar working class, Ziggy is an exploration of someone who fell through the cracks of that shift and, in that respect, was sort of doomed to failure from the beginning. James Ransone has described him as “very castrated” in terms of his power and potential for social mobility, the game being rigged against working-class people like him even with the advantages of being a white male. Ziggy’s brother, armed with a college education, might fare better in the 21st-century workforce... But even if Zig hadn’t ended up in prison, he probably wouldn’t have lasted much longer in the family business anyway. Johnny Fifty, a more senior checker, is homeless by season 5, and unemployment is the implied fate of nearly all longshoremen in the near future.

And honestly? Although I really like Ziggy, I appreciate that he’s a failure. I think one of the reasons I do feel so deeply for him is that the narrative never rewards his errors or glorifies his misdeeds. If it did, he’d risk coming off as one of those edgy, disenfranchised white guy antihero types, and I doubt I’d have found that nearly as sympathetic or interesting. By the standards of The Wire, Zig’s relatively small-time in terms of how much damage he causes and pretty notable for how extremely he regrets what harm he does do, but that still doesn’t excuse his actions, and the narrative doesn’t pretend that it should. Nor does it pretend that he’s not also worthy of our interest and pathos anyway.

Ziggy Sobotka is not cool. He’s not a badass. He’s not any of the things he tried to be during the season, and he’ll probably never get a chance, now, to be anything other than a murderer locked up for life. And I know he wasn’t entitled to any fate other than the one he earned for himself, but I wish he’d been able to find a better path.

#the wire #ziggy sobotka #james ransone #nick sobotka #frank sobotka #y'all i have written some ''there is absolutely no audience for this'' posts in my day... but this one takes the cake lmao #which is a shame tbh cause i'm proud of it!!! my particular brand of overzealous character analysis at its finest #meta #my meta #op

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rueitae · 5 years

Text

Bound

Read my whumptober collection on Ao3

Wild West AU!

~~~~~

The world spins as the ground smashes into Lance’s face. The impact worsens his headache and hurts like a headbutt from Ol’ Kaltenecker, but he can hardly find the strength to really register the pain.

No sooner as he finally manages to place a palm on the prairie ground to lift himself up, he’s dragged to his knees by his assailants. The jerking motion sends fresh, sharp wave of pain through the top of his head and he has to shut his eyes to not throw up at the swirly sights in front of him.

“What’do we do boss? Shoot him? Hang him?” Levidy squeals in delight. “Maybe… maybe we can scalp ‘im?”

Lance groans. An idiot Levidy might be but he’s under no false pretenses that he would shoot Lance without hesitation if ordered. Not that Lance is any less of an idiot, riding out to check on a cattle rustling tip alone.

Catch up on the paperwork, Pidge, then I don’t have to do it, Lance mocks himself. I’ll bring you back a nice steak for lunch no problem!

Even in his dazed state, he hears the train whistle. His heart sinks, even if they let him live, he won’t make it to the station on time to collect the package he ordered for Pidge.

“I think our dear sheriff deserves to go out with a bit more pomp and circumstance, Levidy,” says the leader of the gang. Too smart for his own good, Steelman always seems to be two steps ahead of the law. If he’d just let Pidge come with instead of trying to keep her out of his elaborate surprise...

“Bind him,” Steelman orders. “And make it tight,” he continues almost cheerfully, “he’s proven to be slippery when he wants.”

Lance glares, willing Steelman - blurry as he is to Lance - to drop dead where he stands. Growling, he rises from knee to foot, working for leverage.

Steelman clicks the safety off his custom revolver and points it at Lance. “Let Levidy do his job, Sheriff. We’ll let you do yours in time.”

“I will see you get justice,” Lance vows, though he slumps to his knees, wrists already burning as he tugs at the rope snug to his skin. “You won’t get away with this. Everyone knows the train is coming for this herd, and the time.” He can’t help a smug grin. “You’ll be tracked down before you can take one steer.”

But Steelman’s cruel smile just grows wider and more menacing. “That’s where you’ve provided a surprising boon for us.” The rope winds around his chest, keeping his strained arms uncomfortably close to his body. “You see, trains stop automatically if there is an accident. And you, dear Sheriff, will provide us with that accident.”

The rope tugs in exclamation before Levidy ties it off. It doesn’t hurt, but Lance’s chest constricts at the knowledge of what is to become of him.

Levidy hauls him roughly to his feet and Lance refuses to move, he can at least stall for time in the slim chance someone else is out here. “I’m not going to help you with your insane plan.”

Steelman clicks his tongue in disappointment. “I’d hate to blow your brains out right here, it’d be a pity to sully the wildflowers.” He gestures forward with his gun. “Move.”

Lance stumbles forward, pushed from behind.

He hates being out of control of the situation. The only one he’d ever trust to tie him up like this is back at the office doing paperwork because he was too lazy to bring her along and do it himself when he got back.

Levidy drags him up the grassy hill by the collar of his shirt. Lance barely keeps up, unable to tell what is up or down, his boots and pants scraping on the dirt, throat tight every time he’s pulled.

Finally, he’s allowed to lay on the ground. But this ground isn’t hard like the soil, its distinctly iron.

Rail iron.

“Nice and easy, Levidy, make the good sheriff comfortable.”

Lance tries to focus, blinking rapidly until his head settles. The railroad track goes on as far as he can see - in the distance already he can see the steam from the engine of the Continental Express.

And he lies in its direct path, neck literally on the chopping block when the wheels come rolling through.

He should move, and he tries, but his legs are stuck. Levidy hovers over them with rope - tying him to the track then.

Quiznak, he’s really going to die here.

“Pidge is going to kill you,” he spits - at the very least he has his pride. “I guarantee you that.”

Steelman walks over the tracks and kneels, pistol still in one hand. The madman cups the other under Lance chin, and pushes back punishingly. Lance chokes, his neck strained so far that he can almost see behind him. His captor holds him there, looking him over as if examining golden specks on a rock.

“I think I will miss you, Sheriff,” he says regretfully, though Lance knows its fake. “But do not worry about your little deputy. Her brains will be put to good use once I have her, and if not, there are other ways to put her to use.”

Lance inhales sharply. “Don’t you touch her,” he seethes.

Steelman lightly pats his cheek, as if comforting a small child. “I will take good care of her,” he says cruelly, “I promise.”

“You worthless piece of s-mmmhhmmmm!” Lance yells angrily, as loud and as obnoxiously as he can even after the gag is tied at the back of his head.

“Sweet dreams, Sheriff.” Steelman stands and tips his hat in mock respect. “I’ll toast to you later tonight as I take the train and your deputy to San Francisco.”

Then he leaves, out of sight far too quickly for Lance’s liking.

Lance screams, squirms, twists, every type of movement he can think of to escape, but even as he loosens the rope slightly it holds fast, exhausting him and cutting into his skin.

The train whistle is closer, he can see the line of freight cars rumbling over the hill. Lance struggles harder.

Lance has regrets. Though he’ll die on the job - just the thought of being decapitated this way chews at his insides, not that he’ll be around to feel it much longer - he can’t help but think that he always expected to go out guns blazing like Shiro had, regardless of Pidge’s conspiracy theory that he was still alive.

He regrets not marrying Pidge years ago. Waiting until they could pass the badge on to someone else seems like foolishness when he reflects on it. She won’t even get the postmortem cash from the government - at least she knows where his life savings are kept, she can use that to pick up the search for her brother again.

She’s going to receive the package addressed to him, ring intended for her, after he’s died. Because if he’s sure of one thing, Pidge will be able to outwit Steelman.

The ground rattles and him with it.

The shrieking sound of the train breaking fills the air. It’s stopping, Lance realizes a flicker of hope. But it’s far too late. Even if the Conductor has seen him and applied the breaks he’s still going to die.

Lance breathes heavy and rapidly, because soon he won’t have a head to do so at all. He cries in fear because no one will see him, there is no one to hide from.

The train whistle gets louder. Lance can smell the burnt coals and feels the crackle of electricity from the wheels against the rails. The breaking becomes nearly unbearable in his ears, more shrill than barkeeper Coran singing in the saloon.

The sky goes dark. A wheel brushes up against his neck.

And stops.

No more squeal of the breaks, only the cooling down of the engine.

He isn’t dead. In a rare moment, Lance can’t find his own voice as he stares directly up at the front of the engine. If the train had failed to stop any sooner than it did…

“Lance!”

Against all odds, his deputy and the love of his life jumps out of the engine, her signature green boots pounding on the ground.

Never in his life has he been more overjoyed to see her.

Pidge kneels before him with horrified eyes behind her empty frames, ripping off his gag.

Lance gasps. “How did… you were at the office…”

She flops on top of him, which Lance immediately decides isn’t fair as he can’t exactly hug her back. “Like I was going to stay behind and do paperwork while you investigated something that smelled like Steelman and his flunkies,” she tells him with a choked voice.

“But.. how did you know I’d be…”

Pidge sniffs. “Because he’s a showman. There’s no way he’d pass up something like this when he sees it in the movies. Quiznak, Lance,” she sobs into the rope around his chest. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Lance laughs, though he feels no humor in it. “I guess I can’t die, not as long as you’re my sidekick.”

Though she still cries, Lance catches the briefest of smiles and a distinct laugh among the tears. “We’ve talked about this, I’m not your sidekick, goofball.”

No more waiting. Not after this far too close for comfort incident. “What about my wife?”

A moment of silence before Pidge raises her head, an incredulous look on her tear stained face. “I just spent the last few hours in fear for you life, you nearly died, and you’re proposing now?”

Lance smiles, pleased to get a rise out of her - the thrill of catching his normally ‘prepared for anything’ deputy off guard. “I can’t think of a better time,” he says, pouring all sincerity into his voice.

Pidge huffs in frustration, but yet she smiles. “How can I say anything but yes if you put it like that?”

He shifts uncomfortably, the soreness of being tied up finally getting to him. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day… but can you untie me before we kiss?”

Lance knows he’s screwed when Pidge gets a defiant gleam in her eye. “You don’t need your arms and legs to kiss me.”

Well, Lance thinks as she leans down and meets his lips with her own, at least the kiss is worth it.

#plance #whumptober2019 #altno.16 #bound #voltron legendary defender #vld lance #vld pidge #wild west au #i feel like i just fulfilled the most classic of tropes #rueitae

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binxisaphe · 5 years

Text

A hand brushed down the neck of the large bird. Gliding over sun soaked orange feathers. Drawing the chocobos attention to the small Keeper that had entered the worn down stable silently.

Binxi smiled up at the bird before continuing to inspect the creature. Running a hand over the chocobos back. He was old, the orange in the birds feathers where quickly giving away to grey. Past his prime. He had originally came to the stables looking for the chocobo to pull a plow. His sisters had told them that they had one for the job. But he had expected one... Younger? This chocobo looked as if he was reaching far into its lifespan. Sighing inwardly as he finished his cursory inspection. He glanced around the stables.

It was built big enough to house more but this was all they had. It wouldn't work, the bird was too old. He'd likely keel over from exhaustion from plowing a field. Turning pale eyes back towards the bird he couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity with the creature. Was this the same...?

His ears flickered at the sound of footsteps entering the stables, breaking his train of thought. Turning to look only to see Cia standing there staring back at him. Chin held high as she regarded him with a cool expression. But he could see it, the small twinge of irritation just around the eyes. She was still mad he had dressed her down and switched her with a tree branch the other day.

He decided to speak first. "So you've come to tell me to clear out again? To leave, huh?" His face was calm but he couldn't keep the defiance out of his voice. His sister must've picked up on it because her features twisted into a mask of anger as soon as she heard it. Opening her mouth to shout at him again. But to his surprise and with visible effort she smoothed her features into a semblance of calm. Even if the words that came next where clipped and curt.

"No. I have thought it over and Mia agrees with me. You should be allowed to stay. To help. If that's what you're truly after. We can't manage the farm alone. So if you would help to see our clan restored to what it was, we'd allow it." He just stared back at his sister. No doubt this was Mia's doing. She must have talked some sense into her finally. "But..." But. He knew there was going to be a catch. There's always a catch.

"But. If you're going to stay. Return to us. Then you have to live by the laws of our clan. Do what's expected of you by your Matriarch." He turn to face her fully, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for her to get to the point. Speaking up only to encourage her to speak plainly. "Spit it out already."

It was surprising when his sister actually shifted her feet. Glancing around the stables as if she didn't want to be there or say what she was about to. But that surprise quickly turned to suspicion. "You remember the pact that would be struck when one of ours would take a mate with another from another clan? We need you to do that now. Make ties with the other clans, multiple ties. You are the last eligible male of our clan, so that responsibility falls on you now." Her words had started slow but rushed out as she continued. He just stared back at his sister as she nodded to herself as if affirming what she said with a gesture.

"No." He said it so easily that it didn't even seem to register with Cia at first. Turning back to face the bird he ruffled at the feathers on its neck. But not before he saw the confusion in his sister's face. "W-what do you mean no?! That’s what we decided. Do you not care about the future of our people?!"

"Seems to me you're doin' alright on your own in that regard. You and Mia have plenty of children. Why are you after more...?" He turned partly to look back towards his sister. She had found time to collect herself while his back was turned, but the question still drew a sigh of irritation from her.

"Not for us. For the girls. Eventually they'll be old enough, and they are the future of this clan. They're going to need those ties to other clans. They cannot manage the fields entirely on their own. You, me. Mia. We will not always be here. Quite frankly, I am not sure how you have the energy to do what you've done already." The irritation in her voice slowly died and shifted to curiosity and then... concern? He hadn't been expecting that.

He just waved off the concern. "I have my ways." He wasn't about to go into explaining his training with the the Fist of Rhalgr and Chakras and the boon of the destroyer. Or the fact that he was relying on those gifts heavily. "It would be helpful if the children's fathers where here to help, and since we're on the topic. Where are they? Did you not bind them to the land with the pact?"

It was his sister who looked chagrined by the question. Shuffling her feet and glancing back towards the entrance of the stables, as if looking for a distraction to save her from answering. No luck, she was going to have to swallow her pride. "My two eldest. Their fathers are not to return. The one who sired my other three returns on occasion."

His lips where drawn into a frown. "And Mia?" He asked expectantly. But something she said clicked in his mind. "Wait... what do you mean they are not to return?"

Cia sighed as she began her explanation. Her voice slowly growing harder with resentment. "I made poor choices with them Binx'sae. They where not very kind with me. They where not good men. They are not allowed to return here." She let that explanation hang in the air. Her voice softened a touch as she offered a weak smile. "As for Mia. her children are all fathered by the same man. He comes by regularly to check on us."

He just stared at his sister. "Well then... why in the seven hells am I out there in the field working it alone?! If the other two still come by then make them honor their pact and work the fields." The keeper bristled with irritation. Up until he returned, it had looked like the fields had gone to seed and remained untouched for years. "Also, why is it Mia only takes one mate? If these ties are so important. Why force this on me alone?"

She rounded on Binx'sae, some of the heat returning to her voice. "They are not farmers, you idiot. They don't know what to do. But now that you're here, you can show them. I’m... I’m sure they'll honor their pact." Her voice wavered with uncertainty near the end. But quickly hardened in defense of her younger sister. "Mia is different. She found someone. Someone that actually cares for her. I didn't have the heart to tell her to... Just let her have this Binx'sae. If one of us can be happy let it be her. I would not have her go through what I did."

Her eyes pleaded with him, staring. Waiting for a response. Finally he just made an irritated noise and turned back to the chocobo. "Fine." That was all he gave her as he reached up and started stroking the birds feathers again. "We're going to need new chocobos. This one is too old." He said offhandedly, switching back to casually talking about work.

"Fine..." Cia echoed the words in disbelief and blinked. His simple agreement not completely sinking in yet. "Where are we to get new ones... with what money?" Then it finally clicked. "Wait, you mean you agree?" She couldn't help but feel relieved, she was almost positive this would of ended in another argument between the two.

Binx'sae glanced back over his shoulder looking towards her. "I said fine, didn't I? Don’t push your luck." Scowling he turned his attention back on the bird in thought before finally letting out a audible sigh. "I'll handle. Don’t worry about the money. We're going to need new chocobos, there's no way around it."

Her tone was lighter now. As if a sudden pressure was lifted from her shoulders. "You don't need to rush out and find them right away. The girls have years until they're ready for that, so take your time." She had been talking about him finding suitable mates. "I’m going to go tell Mia."

She was almost out the door of the stable when Binxi turned to speak to her. Opening his mouth to yell after her before stopping and just sighing again. Great. He moved to turn back to the chocobo until something caught his eye. Freezing him in place. Natoshi. What was that hawk up to now. There eyes locked, and the hawks gaze bore into him unyielding. Saying nothing. Until the creature finally took to the air and flew off. What was he doing here, watching? Shaking his head and pushing it from his mind. Binxi returned to what he was doing. Muttering to himself. "Stupid bird..."

"Kweh?" The chocobo tilted its head to look down at the diminutive Keeper.

"No. Not you." Reaching up he patted the side of the chocobos neck affectionately. Assuring the bird the insult was not intended for it.

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #crystal data center rp #FFXIV #balmung #crystal data center #rp #wuxiathings #Saphe Clan

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rickylafleurs · 5 years

Note

now listen to me young man. i am speaking directly in your ear now. i need you to do me a favor. you will do this to me. i need you to go your ask box and ask the bastard behind the counter to answer the questions 12,16,18, 21,23, 27, 31, 45, 46. you will answer these questions for me. if you come back empty handed you will be in big trouble mister. you will never see the light of day.

12. What is their favourite food?

answered!

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it?

he likes to collect little knickknacks, like the dinos from the gift shop in novac. theyre just fun 2 him and it lets him remember where he’s been since the objects are attached to specific memories. when he meets boone he starts collecting different pairs of sunglasses because he thinks its fun to try and get boone to put them on. he has a messenger bag he keeps on his shoulder that he keeps his stuff in

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else

he’s not much of a reader, since he cant sit still long enough to really read anything and if he does his eyes skip over way too much of the pages to take in any information but if its got pictures he can do that. he mostly enjoys old stuff about cars and other pre-war tech. as for music he likes whatever plays on the radio, as there isn’t much anything else. and the wasteland doesnt rly have the rest of those in easy access so... *shrug*

21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?

he’s fairly patient, but if someones making fun of his intelligence because he’s not “smart” by most other peoples standards he gets that quiet cold anger and picks out something of them that he’s noticed. but when he’s mad mad he yells and gets self destructive, either almost breaking something or pulling at his hair so hard it almost comes out in his hand.

23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?

he’s got a fairly poor short term memory, and most of his long term memories are faded or just fragments of something that’s happened that he’s not even sure if its real or made up, due to his adhd. he’s way better with faces than with names though, and it can sometimes take a couple of repeatings before he can finally get down someones name

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?

his sleeping pattern is pretty whack, sometimes he can’t get to sleep til nearly dawn which then only allows him a few hours rest if that or sometimes he’ll be so exhausted in the middle of the day he has to lay down and nap for a bit. he’ll sleep on jsut about anything he can get but he prefers softer mattresses/materials. he kinda snores but its not loud, its that kinda quiet snoring that doesnt rly bother anyone.

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?

when he starts thinking about his mom and his brother he gets sad or if something reminds him of them, either something he finds that sparks a memory or otherwise. he doesn’t like to openly cry but sometimes he cant help a tear or two from forming, though he quickly brushes it away and acts as if its nothing though some nights it and all the stress of his situation gets to him and he stays up and just has a cry about it. he always says hes fine the next day though

31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing?

he does drink, yes but he doesnt like to make a habit of it. he tends to be an emotional/touchy feely/lovey drunk though, and he laughs... A Lot. when he’s hungover its almost like he’s dead on his feet, and he makes sure to keep his sunglasses on or else it’ll feel like his heads been shot all over agian. when others are drunk though he likes to tease, though if theyre really shitfaced he becomes concerned and makes sure they don’t over do it.

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves?

others tend to see him either as a kind stranger or an idiot, depending on what kind of first impression he’s made. he likes when people see him as kind and helping as thats what he most often is. but its not really how he sees himself. he sees himself as someone who always keeps having to prove his worth in order for anyone to give a damn about him.

46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?

oh wow uh. i think i accidentally answered this 1 already in 45 aioshfjisdt. he tries to make good first impressions

virgil: im gay and im new in town

AHSDGJD anways if he’s heard someone needs some help he tends to go to that person first and introduces himself by letting them know what he’s heard and then giving his name afterwards.

#i accidentally answered 24 because i wasnt paying attention so have fun #oc: virgil #tiredtabris

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blxssomwrites · 5 years

Text

Title: The scars we hide Fandom: Gintama Rating: K Word count: 1767 words

My first jump into this fandom! I’ve recently started watching this series, and Gintoki quickly cemented himself as a top fav. I haven’t went that far in yet, but I really loved the relationship shared between him and Otose so I wanted to write something about them!

This piece is inspired by the headcanons from @gintamajustaway! I’m still learning how to write the characters, so I apologize if the characterization feels off. Regardless, I hope it’ll be an enjoyable read!

They say that with age comes wisdom, at least when it comes to knowing that things aren’t always as they appear.

Otose might be old, facing pain and aches befitting of an aged body but her mind is sharp and her eyes are even sharper. It’s a boon to have when she’s running the bar; knowing when to pour and when to pull back is what allows her to have returning customers. It’s not necessarily good for business if she lets them die of alcohol poisoning, after all.

But Otose thinks that she gets more practice in telling the subtleties of human emotions and behavior from the idiot living upstairs.

Sakata Gintoki is many things, though among those who knew him, the general view seems to split into two. A lazy, good for nothing perm haired manchild that attracts trouble the way a garbage truck attracts flies. A kind yet fierce self sacrificing samurai who’d do anything in his power to protect what’s precious to him.

Otose has come to learn that there’s more to what meets the eye. Gintoki hides what he truly feels behind layers upon layers of masks, especially if it hints at pains suffered from the life or death battles that he finds himself in far too often.

It’s impossible to survive the grievous wounds inflicted on his abused body without complications. Otose knows that there are days where his old scars act up, but for all the whining that Gintoki does on a daily basis, this is the one thing that he’d keep mum on.

She learns quickly that his body language provides more information than words ever will. Gintoki laughs obnoxiously to hide a wince. Slouches when he thinks no one is looking. Clenches his jaw when he frowns. His movements are less sharp, more practiced and controlled, like he’s trying not to tug on anything in fear of ripping the seams wide open.

Otose often leaves him be, for she knows that Gintoki is both stubborn and selfless, who wouldn’t take too well with being fussed over because he made them worry about him. Whenever he comes into her bar by himself, she doesn’t question when she spots bandages peeking out of his kimono, the faint exhausted lines on a too pale face. Instead, she quietly slides him an extra drink to his order, comments that he looks like shit and pretends not to see the vaguely appreciative look he gives her from the reflection of the glass she’s polishing.

But Otose cares more than she lets on, and has enough common sense to know when to step in. If his old scars affect him too much by her standards, she’s not going to let him suffer in silence any longer, nor any more than he should.

When Kagura and Shinpachi entered her bar that morning without Gintoki trailing behind them, Otose pretends to look disinterested when she gives them breakfast, commenting on the lack of their silver haired boss.

“Ah, Gin-san said that he feels tired today,” Shinpachi replies, eating his portion slowly as opposed to the girl that’s shoveling down her second bowl of rice beside him.

“Yeah! Gin-chan told us to mooch breakfast from you cause he doesn’t want to make it,” Kagura says in between bites, then shamelessly asks for more rice.

Otose’s eye twitches even as she scoops out another bowl full, while Shinpachi flashes her an apologetic smile for her tactless remark. That soon slides off into an almost thoughtful frown. “We have a job to do today, but I guess it’s just going to be the two of us.”

“Hmph! He’s leaving us to do all the work today while he sleeps like a lazy bum.” Kagura makes a face. “Shinpachi! We’re not going to give him any of the pay, okay!? If you do I’ll hit you!” And she does smack him over the head.

“Ow! You’re hitting me anyway!” comes the heated reply, and then it degenerates into a nonsensical argument that hides the underlying worry that these two harbor. Otose knows that they sense something amiss with Gintoki, sensitive as they are when his mood genuinely plummets, but they’re unsure on how to tread on the subject. She doesn’t blame them.

When the pair finishes their breakfast and heads out to work, she makes an offhand comment on collecting rent from the lazy bastard later. Otose turns her back as the tension melts off of the children’s shoulders, and plans for her visit upstairs.

Roughly half an hour later, she exits her shop with supplies in hand and slowly makes her way upstairs. Otose doesn’t bother knocking, merely slipping inside with a slight shink.

Her steps are light, and it’s telling on how awful Gintoki feels when he fails to acknowledge her presence upon opening the door. The curtains were still drawn, probably in consideration for this prideful idiot who didn’t want his kids to see him in this state.

The blanket is pulled up that she only sees tufts of his silver hair. Otose sits a considerable distance away, for prior experiences taught her that with Gintoki and his past, it’s best to be out of his reach until she has a good grasp of his mental state.

“Gintoki,” she calls out.

There’s a flinch from under the blanket before it’s pulled down enough for red rimmed eyes to peek through. Otose feels her heart clench slightly at the pain hidden in them, but keeps her composure.

“Old hag.” Those eyes narrow. “If you’re here for rent, I don’t have the money.”

She knows that it’s an act to keep up appearances. He knows why she’s here but still puts up a front, this selfless fool.

“One of these days I’m going to throw your sorry ass out into the streets,” she replies with a faint huff. A beat of silence, then she wears a softer look. “What hurts this time?”

Gintoki closes his eyes, unable to stand the concerned gaze. He hates it, the man had once told her after too many drinks loosened his tongue. He hates making people worry for him, cause he doesn’t feel like he deserves it. Otose chalks it up to a drunkard’s rambling, and treats him a little nicer the next day when he complains of a hangover.

Otose doesn’t push even as the quietude stretches on for minutes. It’s a battle of wills, sprinkled with a dash of futile hope that if he remains still long enough, she’d give up and leave. Gintoki is stubborn but Otose didn’t survive this long by being docile, either.

They’ve done this song and dance before, back when it’s just the two of them. It’s only a matter of time before--

“... my shoulder.” Otose hums in acknowledgement, giving him room to elaborate if he wants. “... been a fucking bother since last night.”

Another hum, then she shuffles closer. Gintoki cracks open an eye at the noise, wariness clashing with her quiet resolution before he sighs. Otose doesn’t help him when he tries to sit up, though her hand hovers close at the small of his back, just in case.

He carefully sheds his pajamas, biting back winces when the simple act aggravates his shoulder. Otose has seen this strong back several times, and it’s never a pleasant sight when she sees new scars mixing with the old.

Her gaze flickers to the cause of his misery. It’s unsurprising that his dominant arm would bear the heaviest burden. It makes sense for his enemies to incapacitate the wooden sword that inflicts damage as if it were steel. Slash his shoulder and that should stop his rampage, right?

Too bad for them that Sakata Gintoki often defies common sense in his single minded desire to protect what’s precious to him. But damage is still damage, and despite being called the shiroyasha, Gintoki is very much human. His body can never fully recover, only repairs itself enough to function.

Otose brings with her a small bowl of warm water and a clean kitchen towel. She dips it in, squeezes out the excess water before she gently dabs his shoulder. Gintoki hisses at the contact, but aside from the initial flinch, he remains tight lipped.

Once it’s sufficiently cleaned, she picks up the small bottle of ointment, and squeezes out the clear gel onto her fingertips. Then it’s carefully applied on the marred skin. Another hiss, an instinctive lean to get away until he rights himself back up again. Otose continues the treatment, her practiced hand being as gentle as it could be.

After a thorough coating, she tells him to stay put prior to her exit, barely catching the grumbled complaint. Her initial action was to pour him a glass of strawberry milk, but after a moment of consideration, she switches it with cool water. A bottle of painkillers was fished out from inside her left sleeve, and with the items in tow, she returns to his room.

Gintoki is now wearing his pajamas properly again, still sitting upright. His eyes flicker to the door upon her entrance.

“At least you know how to follow orders.”

“Shut up.”

Still, he accepts the pills and water with a tiny nod. Otose goes to sit back down by his futon when he gingerly wiggles his way under the blanket again. The treatment might take the edge off, but what he really needs is rest. A difficult task while he waits for the pills to kick in, she’s sure.

Otose may not be able to alleviate his pain, but she can help him relax enough to make it bearable. Thin, wrinkled fingers slowly finds purchase in his hair, and after gauging his reaction, they slowly dig into his curls.

Ever so slowly, the tension oozes out of him. A small, appreciative sigh slips through his lips with each pass that she makes through his soft locks. Otose merely continues the comforting ministrations until his eyes slip shut and his breathing evens out. Her fingers remain for a while longer while she takes in his peaceful expression.

Her own lips curled into a small, maternal smile. Gintoki is stubborn and reckless, lazy and boorish, loyal and kind, and the son that Otose sees him as.

Eventually, she does pull away. Otose picks up her stuff, shuts the door behind her and continues on with her day. Things will return to normal soon enough.

(She doesn’t question when Shinpachi and Kagura gifts her with some red bean buns that evening, nor acknowledges the soft thank you that Gintoki utters when he passes by her the next morning).

#Gintama #Sakata Gintoki #Otose #Hana writes stuff #it was fun writing this! even if my writing style is inconsistent ahhhh

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