#I have about six months to plot some scheme

[beckyninja]

Rude Awakening

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: Sexual content, MDNI

Description: The Reader sends a long awaited message to her home world, only to receive a very unexpected reply.

Plot, lore, and spice in this one folks! (Also, please excuse the very cliched name I decided to use for the Reader's home world.)

This is a continuation of my Guilliman/Reader series. To read the previous parts, check out my Masterlist.

“Transmitting in one minute, Lady Heir.”

Guilliman watched you sit even straighter than before, if that were possible. You’d changed out of the light, flowing dresses he’d grown accustomed to seeing you in these past months, and back into the corseted gown you’d worn upon your first meeting. Your hair was pulled back into a severe bun, your hands tightly clasped on your lap.

Every sinew in your body radiated tension. He resisted the near overpowering urge to go to your side.

“No, Roboute. If I’m to be seen to be acting independently, in the interests of my world, I can’t sit in your shadow.” You’d leaned against him in the Thunderhawk during the flight to your ship, “No matter how I might wish to.”

When he made it clear he intended to be present for the event, and therefore his Ultramarine guards as well, Captain Takahashi suggested they move the whole operation to the spacecraft hangar. Glancing around, Guilliman understood why.

It had been ages since he’d existed in a space not built with giants in mind. Even the towering ceilings of this hangar seemed somehow claustrophobic after the sheer massiveness of The Macragge’s Honor. And that was not the only difference.

Not a candle in sight.

The air still smelled of fuel and chemicals, but the cloying aroma of incense was absent. Captain Takahashi must have driven her cleaning crew hard, for every surface gleamed clean and starkly bright under the artificial lighting.

It all looked so… new. Even the crew, standing at attention in their clean uniforms.

He heard his Ultramarines shifting in their armor and couldn’t blame them for their unease. The differences in culture and technology between your people and the Imperium had never been so obvious. The clash to come….

Guilliman’s gaze returned to you.

You feel it too, the mounting pressure. If we are to avoid bloodshed, you must walk a razor’s edge.

Again, the urge to go to you. His jaw clenched.

***

Your heart felt as though it was about to beat its way out of your chest. 

Strange, how quickly emotions could change. In the days since confessing your family’s sordid history to Roboute, you’d felt… lighter. Unafraid, for the first time in years. 

When he held you, all your grandmother’s torments and scheming seemed insignificant. You were untouchable. Safe.

The folly of such thoughts crashed upon you as you stared at the transmitter. An entire world’s fate rested on your words, on a diplomatic mission no one thought would succeed. 

A diplomatic mission some had done their best to ensure would not succeed. 

Will Grandmother listen to reason? Will the Grand Council? The Military? The Church? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting a rising tide of panic.

Am I leading my people down the path to annihilation?

“Connection established.” The technician’s voice sounded loud in the silence. “Transmitting in ten…”

Light guide me. Protect me against the chaos of the Void.

“...eight…”

Reveal my path and grant me wisdom to protect my people.

“...six…”

Illuminate the minds of those I speak to, that they may see the Truth.

“...four…”

I can’t do this! I can’t!

“...two…”

Your eyes flashed to Roboute. His burning blue gaze met your own. Strength. Courage. Love.

“Transmitting now.”

You lifted your chin and breathed deep. “Honored Matriarch, Grand Council, People of TerraNova, I speak to you today of a new dawn for our people. Six standard months ago, I set out upon a diplomatic mission to propose an alliance with the Imperium of Man.”

Calm settled over you with each word. “I am overjoyed to report the complete success of my mission. Roboute Guilliman, Lord Regent of the Imperium, has accepted our proposal. He has agreed to ensure our continued autonomy in exchange for technology and resources.”

And now for the bombshell.

“To seal this alliance, I have agreed to take the Lord Regent’s hand in marriage.”

***

“... I await your response so that a meeting between the Lord Regent and our beloved Matriarch may be arranged. May the Light, and the Lord of Light, bless the joining of our people. Thank you.”

Guilliman felt pride swell within him as the technician cut the transmission. He strode forward, boots thundering on the metal flooring. 

“You were magnificent, my dear.”

You looked up at him, face pale. “I pray it was enough.”

He reached out a hand, gently taking your tiny fingers in his own, and helped you to your feet. You swayed slightly.

Captain Takahashi appeared at your side, a glass in her hand. “Drink, Lady Heir. You did well.”

Guilliman made eye contact with the Captain as you drank.

She nodded. “I mean it, my Lord. Our leaders will be hard pressed to deny the logic of such a statement.”

He placed a steadying hand on your shoulders. “I have seen diplomats with lifetimes of experience fail to make so compelling an argument.”

“From anyone else,” you murmured, “I’d call that flattery.”

“I am not accustomed to praising the unworthy.”

“I know.” You smiled, face regaining some color, “Still, Void take me! I’m glad that’s over.”

Guilliman chuckled slightly. “How long before we can expect a response?”

Captain Takahashi shook her head. “Hard to say. The message should have been received almost instantaneously, but our leaders will need time to formulate a reply.” She hesitated. “Though, the Matriarch is known for her decisiveness.”

His armored hand tightened on your shoulder at the mention of your grandmother. “I am… eager to meet this woman.”

He sensed your tension returning. “Let us return to The Macragge’s Honor, my dear. We can-”

“Captain!” A shout from the technician drew everyone’s attention. “Incoming communication!”

Captain Takahashi strode to the console. “A recorded transmission?”

“Negative, Ma’am. Live.”

“Oh, Light….” Guilliman watched you wilt once more.

He pulled you against him. “From your homeworld, Captain?”

“We’re too far for a live message.” The Captain’s eyes remained fixed on the screens in front of her. “No. This originates from one of our naval vessels.”

“Lord Guilliman.” Sicarius spoke for the first time since entering this ship. “Transmission from The Macragge’s Honor. Long range scanners have picked up contacts exiting the Warp.”

He faced the Ultramarine. “Details.”

“Five ships of similar make to this one. One significantly larger. Numerous smaller vessels. All approaching rapidly.”

From the scowl on Sicarius’s face, Guilliman knew he expected an ambush. “Have we received any attempts at communication?”

“Negative, my Lord.”

“Captain?” The technician looked toward Captain Takahashi. “Do I answer?”

“Yes.”

Guilliman looked down at you in surprise. You reached up and placed your hand over his gauntlet on your shoulder, your expression determined.

“I will answer, Captain Takahashi. Put it on screen.”

A moment of silence, save for the persistent beeping of the console. “Very well, Lady Heir.”

You tried to pull away from his grasp. “Roboute-”

“No.” He walked with you, hand remaining on your shoulder. “This time, we stand together.”

***

You leaned back against Roboute, partly annoyed, partly grateful. In truth, you felt drained. A mere moments ago you’d wanted nothing more than to return to your quarters on the Imperial ship. Quarters that had rapidly begun to feel like “home”. 

No time for further thought before a figure appeared on screen. It was not who you expected.

The angular face. Hair that curled to his shoulders in defiance of every military regulation. Eyes that never seemed to rest in one place for more than a moment. All familiar, except for the red scar bisecting one cheek.

“Victor?!” 

“Hello, cousin. And, ah…,” his eyes moved behind and above you, “Lord Guilliman, I presume?”

The lack of decorum brought a flush of shame to your cheeks. You felt Roboute’s hands tighten ever so slightly on your shoulders.

“Lord Regent, may I introduce Prince Victor, son of-”

“Another prince, who was the son of a Patriarch, who was the husband of our beloved Matriarch, and so on and so forth. Second in line to the throne of TerraNova. Lord of the Fleet, etc.” Your cousin waved his hand dismissively. “Very pretty, very inconsequential titles.”

Void damn him! He hasn’t changed.  

“Victor, this is-”

“Quite possibly the most powerful man in the galaxy, yes I know.” He grinned, the expression twisted by the scar on his cheek. “And your intended! Congratulations, by the way.”

“An unexpected pleasure, Prince.” 

Roboute had once explained his multiple organs to you. Now, you felt him expand his third lung, giving his already deep voice an inhuman resonance that sent shivers across your skin.

Even through the screen, your cousin couldn’t remain unaffected. You felt a tiny thrill of satisfaction at seeing his cocky smile quiver.

“Unexpected for me as well… my lord. My fleet’s interception of my lovely cousin’s message necessitated this intrusion, I’m afraid.”

You stiffened. “The message? Did it-”

“Don’t fret, my dear. I’m sure our beloved Matriarch is frothing at the mouth as we speak. Unfortunately, she no longer has the power to act one way or the other.”

Dread pooled in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that she’s currently a prisoner in her own palace, cousin. Courtesy of the only other living member of our dynasty.” 

“Conrad?” The magnitude of the disaster struck you hard. “Oh, Light.”

“Clear the deck!” Captain Takahashi snapped.

You heard the retreating of many feet, and glanced up toward Roboute. He stared at the screen, mouth set in a grim line. The Ultramarines likewise remained.

“Victor, perhaps a more private-”

“What’s the point, sweet cousin? Your fiance and his…ah…warriors may as well know what kind of mess they’re about to sail into.” 

***

Guilliman could see why you disliked your family.

The nonchalant mockery dripping from every word this boy said, set his teeth on edge. He showed no regard for the devastation his little speech wrought on you, never once used your proper title. And something in the way he looked at you….

“So, there has been a coup.” He didn’t bother to hide the growl in his voice.

“Indeed.” The boy avoided his gaze. “Grandmother and what’s left of her personal forces are holed up in the capital whilst Conrad, bookish little Conrad, and his army lay siege.”

Guilliman felt you sag against him. “The Military?”

“Apparently they think he’ll be easier to control that dear old Granny, or me, for that matter. And they thought you were dead until a few minutes ago. So they’ve made him their figurehead.” He shrugged. “I don’t really even blame Connie, locked away in that monastery for so many years, he never did learn how to think for himself.”

“The Grand Council?”

“Ran off to the Eastern Continent. Putting up a decent fight, actually.”

You seemed to gather yourself. “So there’s still hope. Wait. They thought I was dead?”

“Oh, yes. Grandmother seemed certain of it. Was almost ready to announce it to the people.” A grating laugh. “I can only imagine her expression when your message came through. I know it shocked the Void out of me.”

Guilliman spoke again. “You called yourself ‘Master of the Fleet’. This implies you have control of your world’s naval forces.”

“Those personally loyal to me, yes.”

“Your mercenaries?” You shook your head. “Victor, they’ll turn on you as soon as you can no longer pay them.”

The boy’s expression turned dark. “They’re loyal, little cousin. Ever since I saved their asses from Grandmother’s order of execution. You can count on that.”

Guilliman didn’t care for his tone. “What are your intentions here, prince?”

He ignored him, darting eyes settling on you. “You need to come home, cousin. Immediately. With me. The people are confused and divided.”

“We need to present a united front.” You nodded slowly.

Guilliman tightened his grip on your shoulders.

“You always were the smartest of us.” Your cousin smirked. “I’ll send a transport immediately.”

Captain Takahashi joined the conversation. “I will gladly transport the Lady Heir on board this ship, my prince.”

“Ah, the ever loyal Captain! You know we all thought you dead too? I appreciate the offer. But we both know my Predator is faster than your little cruiser. And speed is paramount.” He waved a hand. “You can follow along at your own pace.”

“A third option.” Guilliman tried to make eye contact with the prince, but his gaze kept sliding away. “The Lady remains aboard my flagship, and we follow you to your homeworld.”

“Cousin, would you like to explain to your fiance why that won’t work?”

You gave him an apologetic look. “For me to arrive with an Imperial fleet-”

The boy interrupted once again. “It would certainly look like a conquering horde, now wouldn’t it? Unless, of course, that’s your intention.”

“Victor!”

He leered. “It would be clever. Take advantage of our weakened, divided state and swoop in to add us to your collection of worlds. Your marriage to my cousin would give you just enough legitimacy to preserve your image. Assuming, of course, that you Imperials care about such things.”

“I gave my word to the Lady that this would be an alliance, not a conquest.” Guilliman managed to catch the boy’s direct gaze and hold it. “I intend to keep my word.”

He paled and, once again, his eyes darted away. “Well, well. How noble.”

Your hand reached up and grasped one of the gauntlet’s on your shoulders. “Do not make such an insinuation again, cousin.”

A corner of Guilliman’s mouth tipped up at the indignation in your voice.

“Still,” you murmured, “an Imperial fleet, much less the flagship of the Lord Regent, arriving at this time could cause widespread panic.”

And undermine any hope of peaceful compliance.

He never desired unnecessary bloodshed, not even in the days of the Great Crusade. The idea of attacking your homeworld appealed to him even less. Still, to send you alone into the hands of this arrogant princeling… into a war zone….

“Should she agree to this, the future Lady of Ultramar will be accompanied by an Ultramarine guard.”

An astounded murmur from the Ultramarines behind him. Your head snapped up, mouth opening in shock.

The boy remained silent for a moment, blinking. “I…ah… of course. Of course! You want to protect your investment. I understand.” He made a show of peering at the Ultramarines. “I suppose we’ll make them fit somehow.”

You turned back to the screen. “Give me one standard day, Victor. Then send your transport.”

“Agreed. It will be ever so nice to see you in person again, cousin. I’m sure we’ll get this mess sorted in no time.”

The transmission ended.

You pressed your face into your hands. “Void damn it all. Just when things were going so well.”

Guilliman looked down at you. Sometimes he forgot how young and inexperienced you were. You’d learn soon enough.

Nothing ever goes to plan.

***

You stood in the midst of your quarters aboard The Macragge’s Honor, and tried desperately not to weep. 

A fool. I’m a damned fool.

You thought back over the last months. All your life, you’d heard horror stories of the Imperium. Its cruelties. Its fanaticism. How ironic that the best moments of your life so far had been spent here, onboard its flagship.

With him. 

You’d told yourself it could last forever. That all would be well.

Damn you, Conrad. Why? Why now?

You bent to pick a piece of clothing off the floor, only for your corset to tighten further around your chest. Sudden rage filled you.

“Off, get off!”

It had taken two attendants to help you put the thing on. Tears of frustration filled your eyes as you clawed at the hooks and laces to no avail. 

“Void damn it!” 

Behind you, the door hissed open. You recognized the presence even before he spoke.

“Are you all right, my love?”

You didn’t dare turn around, face burning with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Roboute. I just… I can’t….” You sniffled like a child.

“Let me.”

“You don’t have to- ah!”

A wrench and the sound of tearing fabric. The corset fell away. You gasped, catching it against your breasts. Your mind went blank.

A thud behind you made the floor shake. Then, hot breath on your bare back. The heat seemed to spread across your skin, burning away the rage and frustration, until only longing remained.

“Roboute….”

Lips pressed against the back of your bare shoulders. Impossibly large hands circled your hips, holding you immobile. 

“It seems our marriage will be delayed.” His deep voice resonated within you. “But, by the Throne, I will have this.”

You could only whimper in reply as the lips traced across your shoulders, your neck, and down your spine. The hands on your hips slid upward until they met the corset you still clutched to your chest.

Light forgive me.

You let the piece of clothing drop to the floor, and gasped as the hands covered your breasts. 

“So soft.” He rumbled.

No one had ever touched you like this. You whined as he began to squeeze and knead, calloused skin against your nipples sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Liquid warmth pooled between your legs.

You felt yourself yanked back into a hard chest, only then realizing he’d sunk to his knees. His forehead came to rest on your shoulder. One hand continued to play with your chest, while the other spread down over your belly.

“Tell me to stop.”

“No.”

I want this.

He groaned, and the hand on your belly moved lower, fingers dipping beneath the waist of your skirt and underclothes. You suddenly found it hard to breathe.

“I heard you last night.” He rasped. “I heard you touching yourself, calling my name as you climaxed.”

“Oh, Light!” You should feel ashamed, but his words only stoked the fire within.

“I almost went to you. Throne, I have wanted to go to you every night since the first. Now you are leaving me, and I cannot….” A deep, gasping breath. “I cannot hold back anymore.”

You moaned his name.

“Show me how to bring you pleasure.”

You reached one hand behind you, carding your fingers into blond hair, feeling the massive demigod shiver at your touch. With the other hand, you guided his hand lower, until his fingers met your wet center.

Both of you hissed at the sensation.

“L-like this….”

Spreading your legs a little wider, you pushed his fingers until they brushed against your nub. Your back arched at the sudden sting of pleasure.

He caught on quickly, beginning to rub circles. You ground against his hand, revelling in the wantonness of your actions. Enough with decorum. Enough with following the rules. You wanted him.

You wanted your husband.

“Roboute, faster!” 

He obeyed. And you writhed, no longer recognizing the sounds that came out of your mouth. You heard only his deep, panting breaths against your shoulder. You felt only his fingers against you. Nothing else mattered.

As you leaned back against him, you felt something hard against your rear. You’d felt it before, when he held you down atop his desk. Without hesitation, you rubbed against it, and he let out a strangled growl.

“Yessss….”

His hips began to move. Even as he rubbed you, his massive hand also pressed you back against him. You felt him hard and hot through his tunic. And big. So big. It should have frightened you.

Instead you felt the tension inside you grow tighter. 

“Roboute, I… I…!”

“Give it to me.” He snarled. “Only to me.”

The tension snapped. You opened your mouth, but no words came. Your vision went white. 

Hot and wet and so so good…!

The sudden sting of teeth in your shoulder. A muffled roar. Scalding liquid against your lower back.

And then all was soft, melting warmth. You went limp, and he caught you against him. You felt the swelling of his chest, the thunder of his double heartbeat.

“My love…mine….” He turned your boneless body until you looked up into his sweat-streaked face. “Forgive me.”

You snuggled into his chest. “There’s nothing to forgive, my husband.”

He shuddered at your words. “My beautiful little wife.”

For a moment you stayed there, keeping the outside world at bay.

“Just a little while longer, Roboute.” You whispered. “And then I’ll never leave you again.”

***

Guilliman remembered your words as he watched the transport depart. In the end, only one of his Ultramarines had gone with you. The ship your cousin sent simply couldn’t fit any more.

He hadn’t been surprised when Tarchus volunteered for the duty. He believed, in his own way, the Ultramarine had grown rather fond of you in the past few weeks. And the man was capable. He’d keep you safe.

Still, what I would not give to be the one at her side.

The previous night with you in his arms had been an indescribable joy. Whatever the Ecclesiarchy might have to say on the matter, you were bound to him now. Even if he hadn’t had you fully. Not yet.

He had plans for that. Some customs he couldn’t quite bring himself to disregard. Such as the matter of a ring.

“Roboute, it’s beautiful!” You’d gasped as he slipped the gold and sapphire band on your finger.

“And long overdue. It belonged to my mother, one of the few things I have left of her.”

Your eyes had widened. “Are you sure-?

“I am.” He’d smiled down at you. “She would have liked you, I think.”

“I’ll treasure it.”

“I have added one thing.”

He’d shown you the device embedded inside the band. “Captain Takahashi graciously gave me this. I intend to take my fleet to the asteroid belt her star maps show lies just beyond your system. If you need me, press the largest gem in the ring. A beacon will activate.”

He’d grasped your chin, ensuring you looked into his eyes. “And I will come for you.”

He would, he vowed. Even if he had to carry you off like the barbarian warlord your people thought him to be.

“My Lord,” one of the baseline crew suddenly spoke up, “something’s happening.”

His eyes never left the departing transport. “Yes?”

“One of their fighters seems to be malfunctioning. It is moving erratically.”

“More power to the forward void shields.” Captain Sicarius barked.

A tiny ship, smaller than a Thunderhawk, appeared in the corner of Guilliman’s eye. It twisted and bucked as if the pilot had gone mad. And yet….

The crewman continued. “If it keeps its current course, it will not impact any Imperial ships, my lord.”

A horrible revelation flashed through Guilliman’s mind. “Fire on that ship!”

“My lord?”

“Now!” He lunged toward the hangar opening, as if he could reach out and strike the ship down himself. “NOW.”

He heard the crewmen frantically issuing vox orders, and yet knew they wouldn’t matter. It was too late.

The fighter screamed toward your transport.

“No.”

Your pilot must have seen the threat. He jerked the ship away, but the fighter followed.

“NO.”

Impact.

Guilliman dropped to his knees as all the light left in his life went out.

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As always, comment if you'd liked to be added to the Taglist.

[archivewriter1ont]

Unveiling the Saved at the Citadel: Fives Lives And Joins the Batch AU

I have been working on this in my brain for a WHILE and I'm so happy to finally share it! The plan is to begin posting a few fics in this AU during May (following the Months of the Bad Batch, Fives May, as that would be 5555-05).

There are many, many, many details I can't wait to explore in some more in-depth writing but here is the bullet-pointed gist of the AU ⬇️⬇️

Intro to the Saved at the Citadel AU

Instead of the heartbreaking mess that was the ending of the Citadel arc, we see the welcome arrival of Rex and Company's unexpected rescuers -- the Bad Batch! Clone Force 99 was on a separate mission in nearby space and received a broken-up distress call from the party on Lola Sayu. The batchers realize that it's Big Brother Cody and some dude named Rex, Big Bro's other favorite brother, and show up with a shock-and-awe response that would make the trigger-happy Alpha-17 beam with pride.

Echo is not presumed dead at the Citadel or taken to Skakko and Fives does not have his chip arc or die.

The Domino ARC Twins and Rex are sent immediately on a different mission with the Batchers, destination unknown, after a specific target. During the assignment, Rex comes to respect the Batchers just as he did in their TCW arc, and the Dominos find themselves becoming attached to these four defects who are simultaneously rough around the edges and extremely welcoming.

After everything is said and done, Echo and Fives decide to transfer to the Bad Batch. Rex lets them go, just as he did with Echo in Unfinished Business, and continues to check in regularly.

The newly expanded Bad Batch goes on a variety of exciting adventures as a six-man squad, becoming an even more deadly machine as the twins integrate into their new family. On a return trip to Kamino, Tech comes across some strange rumors of a clone who lost it on the battlefield and was transferred back to their home planet for evaluation. Fives volunteers to snoop around with the genius once they get planet side, and that's how the Batch finds out about the inhibitor chips.

While Tech and Fives are rescuing Tup and gathering evidence to take before the Jedi and the Senate regarding the chips (because while the Batch may be wary, the twins know a few Jedi and politicians who will not be happy about this info) Hunter and the others are trying to cover for them...and stumble across a blonde-haired little lab assistant who calls them by their names.

With Tup and Omega in tow, the Batch heads to Coruscant to inform the Jedi and confront the Senate. Secrets are revealed, from the origins of the Clone Wars to Anidala to the existence of a Second Sith, and new allies must be found, made, or blackmailed to uncover the entire, widespread plot to overthrow the Republic.

The Batch calls up all their favors and old contacts, including Fox, Quinlan, and even a certain lady pirate that Tech and Echo accidentally met on a recent undercover mission (and a rather annoying Weequay they wish they didn't know at all) to help pull off the counter-overthrow.

The Jedi gladly go along with the scheme and confront the Senate. In the madness, Hunter ends up just a little too close to the Chancellor and...

Hunter: "Cody...is the Chancellor a Jedi?" Cody: "No." Hunter: "Ok then he's the Sith." Cody: "What?" Hunter: "Unless the Jedi just give out those laser swords like party favors." Obi-Wan: "How exactly do you know that he has one?" Hunter: "Felt it. All your sabers give off a weird EM pulse. They're different flavors but they all make me want to sneeze."

Now all the Jedi are royally pissed -- 1. that they didn't see this before and 2. that all the suffering brought by the war has happened due to Palpatine's greed. It doesn't take very long for every available Jedi in the system to converge at the Temple to help take down the Chancellor.

But they end up just being the decoy squad. As Mace Windu and Yoda cause a distraction by confronting Palps directly, sabers drawn, Crosshair uses a slugthrower to snipe the Chancellor through a window. He wishes he could undo this as he is forevermore dubbed by Fives "The Mighty SithSlayer."

The Jedi hide the Batch in the Temple for a few days until they can set the record straight to the public, giving the six saviors of the Galaxy plenty of time to rest after their crazy saving-the-universe ordeal and play with the younglings who are ecstatic to meet real-life heroes. This also gives Tech and Echo time to go over the records from Kamino and find the location of a certain Mount Tantiss, where a certain Hemlock was centralizing medical equipment and personnel for Project Necromancer and other unsavory programs.

Phee decides that after all the ruckus on Coruscant, Tech needs an extended vacation on this really nice, beachy planet she knows about. She graciously allows the other five to tag along with their newly discovered baby (older?) sister.

Tantiss is taken over by the GAR, with CF99 spearheading the operation as the special forces group. Emerie is brought over to the good guys, and she, Tech, and a myriad of scientists from across the stars use the on-world base to house their genetic research operation. Within months, after dedicated research and help from Nala Se, who was given a generous plea deal in return for her assistance, every clone trooper is given the gene therapy required to halt their accelerated aging.

Everyone lives happily ever after on Pabu and elsewhere, including Mayday. Fives becomes the island storyteller and immortalizes the Batch escapades through that.

I have so many fics I want to write for this AU it would boggle your mind. Seriously...it is not even funny.

[iveseenthatlovebefore]

Okay so hear me out—Templar!Desmond AU

I mentioned it before but you don't understand. Not an on-purpose Templar!Desmond AU. Accidental Templar!Desmond AU.

Like what if he got fired from the Bad Weather for whatever reason? The Templars wouldn't have found him at the start of AC1 but because of PLOT, Desmond found THEM because he needed to pay the damn rent and oh hey, that's an awfully convenient job opening.

Now what kind of job, you may ask? Well, Des ain't no scientist and he has zero credentials to his name, but—you know who also has no credentials to their names, zero experience, and the perfect amount of fake it till you make it attitude?

Interns.

He gets an internship at Abstergo, somehow, and it just SPIRALS FROM THERE.

Imagine—Desmond doesn't even realize he's joined the Templars. This would be before he even found out about his Assassin bloodline. He only applied for the experience—for the paycheck but somehow he finishes the internship, gets the job, gets PROMOTED??

Maybe somehow Abstergo finds out about his Assassin bloodline, but he's super clueless and is already employee and so they're like, ok, hey you wanna maybe join this special project? Comes with extra benefits!

Cue maybe some mind control/hypnotism/other BS hyjinks or something idk and he somehow goes from desk job Templar to junior fieldwork Templar agent but with a pension plan.

Also maybe a sprinkle of Tsundere!Daniel Cross who is attached at the hip because Desmond is some sort of Templar Advil that makes Daniel's bleeding effect waaaay more manageable.

Can you imagine this?!

Because I sort of did.

Desmond didn’t mean to get fired.

It kind of happened in a blur.

He’d been halfway through his shift at Bad Weather—a moody, brick walled bar downtown where the cocktails were overpriced and the lights were too low—when he spotted the guy. Mid-thirties. Designer jacket. Confident smile. The type that watched people a little too closely and tipped just a little too much to be normal. Not too unusual—not unexpected—but what was was the move he did when his hand hovered over a girl’s drink as she looked away.

Quick. Practiced. Something small and clear dropped into the glass of a drink—his signature drink—and the moment it registered, instincts kicked in before his brain caught up. The punch landed clean across the guy’s jaw. The sound was satisfying. The guy hit the floor. The bar went dead quiet.

The girl cried. The cops came.

The guy claimed Desmond misunderstood. The girl couldn’t stop crying. Management said it was a ‘PR issue.’

The next morning, Desmond was out of a job.

That was six months ago.

Now, he was twenty-four, unemployed, broke, and lying on a sun warmed mattress in his studio apartment, watching dust float through a shaft of light.

He spent the first week of unemployment scrolling job boards like they owed him something. The second week, he gave up and scrolled online forums instead. The third, he shaved and updated his resume.

He applied for everything. Any bar that had openings. Bookstore clerk. Front desk at a gym. Data entry for a moving company. An assistant mailroom position at a tax office that ghosted him after a second interview. Unfortunately, it seemed like the economy must have gone to shit because out of the thirty one jobs he applied for, he got three interviews. One was a pyramid scheme. One wanted him to relocate to Oregon. The last said he was ‘overqualified’ and ‘seemed too independent minded for the team culture.’

Desmond had stared at that email for a full minute before replying, “Thanks for the feedback. I'll try to be dumber next time.”

What saved him—if you could call it that—was that he’d started taking online business courses a year before he got fired. His previous manager at Bad Weather had pulled him aside and pretty much kickstarted him into it.

“You’ve got decent instincts, Francisco.” She’d said and even after eight years of using the fake alias, he still couldn’t get used to it. “But instincts won’t carry a business. If you want to run your own place one day, you need to know the numbers. Think ahead.”

So he did. 

Two weeks later, he signed up for online classes—Intro to Business, Financial Accounting I, and a random management course he promptly ignored and unenrolled out of midway through the semester. He didn’t plan to get a degree—he wasn’t trying to become a CPA or anything like that, but he figured he’d take just enough to not get screwed if the opportunity ever came along. Besides, if he ever ran his own bar, he should know how to balance a ledger without crying. Or at least learn how to use QuickBooks.

He’d liked it more than he expected.

Accounting wasn’t exciting. He didn’t fully grasp the theory and couldn't explain what compound interest was or how to calculate materiality without cheating to save his life, but the numbers made sense in that weird intuitive way, like catching someone in a lie. If the totals didn’t add up, it meant someone made a mistake—or lied. That part he understood.

And Desmond was good at spotting lies.

He was halfway through the Accounting for Beginners (5th Edition) textbook again, legs sprawled across his mattress, when a job listing popped up in his inbox.

Abstergo Entertainment – Accounting Internship (Spring Term)Entry-level, flexible hours, possible long-term offer. Must sign NDA.

Compensation: Competitive.

Requirements: Coursework in accounting or finance. Self-motivated. Discreet.

Discreet was a weird requirement.

So was the sender name—just ‘J_.’ No full name. And the email had no footer. No unsubscribe button. No contact information.

Honestly, it looked like a phishing attempt, but the link checked out, and the listing was real.

Still, it beat unemployment.

Desmond clicked Apply.

Thus was how he ended up standing in front of Abstergo Entertainment a month later, holding a laminated visitor badge and wondering if he was accidentally participating in a social experiment.

Technically, Abstergo Entertainment’s HQ was in Quebec. This was just a New York satellite office—probably for accounting, PR, or whatever vague nonsense they didn’t want cluttering the actual work. Desmond figured if you had enough money, you could slap your logo on a downtown skyscraper and call it a branch. Seemed legit enough.

The building was sleek—glass and steel and way too many security guards for an accounting internship. The lobby was quiet, temperature controlled, and smelled faintly like printer toner and lies. There was a small cafe to the side of the lobby, past the security checkpoint. 

There were over twenty floors, but the building directory only listed one name: Abstergo. No shared offices, no law firms, no dentists or startups—just Abstergo Entertainment, in crisp sans serif font, like they’d eaten the entire building and were still hungry.

Desmond frowned at that. Most companies, even the big ones, rented. Shared. Leased space like normal people. But Abstergo apparently just bought skyscrapers like they were Starbucks gift cards. Rich people were weird.

He checked in at the front desk, got his picture taken, and was directed to the 16th floor. “Intern Orientation.” The woman said with a practiced smile. “Don’t stray from the green line.”

There was, in fact, a literal green line on the floor.

He followed it to a bland conference room already half filled with nervous looking twenty-somethings. Some were dressed like it was a casual startup. Others wore full suits. Desmond had settled on jeans, a button-down, and the lingering aura of someone who hadn’t had a real job in seven months.

He grabbed a seat near the wall, dropped his notebook onto the table, and was so glad he had decided to grab a cheap coffee from the cafe. Having a 12 oz latte made him feel like he belonged.

When the room finally filled, that was when the presentation began. Orientation was standard corporate fare. Rules, nondisclosure agreements, company history. Some guy in a polo said something about ‘organizational synergy’ and ‘data transparency’ with a straight face. 

Desmond was already regretting this and zoned out somewhere between the sixth and seventh slide about ‘industry alignment’ and ‘core competencies.’ 

When the presentation finally wrapped and Desmond had the chance to stretch his legs, everyone was herded toward the second conference room for icebreakers.

Desmond stared at the sign taped to the glass door. "Get to Know Your Intern Team!" Under it, in smaller font: Mandatory Attendance.

He considered walking into traffic.

The room had been rearranged—circle of chairs, catering trays in the corner with sad muffins and fruit that looked suspiciously dehydrated. There was an intern packet waiting on each seat, complete with a name badge, department assignment, and a branded stress ball in the shape of a pyramid.

Desmond found his badge on a chair near the back and when he settled down, turned the stress toy over in his hands. It was soft, cheap foam. The company logo was printed across the base as Abstergo Industries—which was weird. What was that, the parent company? Of all the logos they chose, why did it have to be a pyramid? Was this some subliminal messaging? Was this all a pyramid scheme? Illuminati? 

Desmond grimaced. God, he was sounding like his parents. 

The triangle shape was probably just branding.

Probably.

Around him, conversation buzzed.

“So I’m a junior at Columbia, but I just transferred out of pre-law.” One girl was saying. “Accounting resonated with me more, you know?”

“I’m double majoring in finance and international business.” Said another guy. “I want to work in public. Maybe regulatory compliance if I’m feeling crazy.”

Desmond pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly.

He was twenty-four. Not old by any real measure, but sitting among a sea of nineteen and twenty-some-year-olds, all chirping about master’s programs and networking opportunities, made him feel like a cryptid someone accidentally let into the building.

Someone to his right leaned over and offered a wide smile. “Hey! What school are you from?”

“Uh…” Desmond tried not to sink into his seat. “Not in school right now.”

“Oh! Like… gap year?”

“More like a gap lifestyle.” He deadpanned.

The guy laughed politely, unsure if it was a joke.

Desmond was saved from filling in the silence when the coordinator clapped her hands for a group activity. They were instructed to go around the circle and introduce themselves. Name, school, something fun.

Fuck.

When it was his turn, Desmond winged it. “Francisco Randez. No school. Took some online classes. I—” He hesitated, and thought fuck it. “—once got detained for climbing a museum exhibit because it looked like a staircase.”

A few people laughed nervously.

He gave them a pleasant smile and passed the metaphorical mic to the next intern.

The orientation dragged. The HR coordinator was all buzzwords and strained optimism. Synergy. Collaboration. Brand alignment. Desmond spaced out halfway through, watching the second hand tick on the wall clock and mentally calculated how long he could stretch his meager finances if this didn’t work out just to stay awake.

By the time lunch rolled around, he was starving, underslept, and ready to question every life decision that had brought him to this glass paneled hellhole. The Company had a lunchroom, outfitted with kitchens from various vendors that you could order at kiosks. Desmond took one look at the prices and walked out. 

He stepped outside, walking past the lobby security and immediately regretted it. The spring air was too fresh—like the world was mocking him with sunlight and competence.

He ducked around the corner of the building, pulled out his phone, and opened his banking app. The number on the screen made his soul leave his body for a full three seconds.

He had enough for groceries or rent.

Not both. 

He pulled out the granola bar he’d stolen from orientation snacks from his bag and chewed it bitterly, watching pigeons fight over a discarded panini with more dignity than he currently had.

Then, his phone buzzed.

Shaun:

how's the first day?

Desmond sent a gif of a dumpster fire. 

Shaun:

oh good, you're settling in.

Desmond:

watching two pigeons fight over a sandwich

one of them won

it was not me

i’m eating a granola bar i stole from orientation snacks.

lunch prices are criminal.

Shaun:

i warned you

that building is a temple to late stage capitalism and soft cult vibes.

Desmond:

it smells like printer toner and regret.

the receptionist has dead eyes.

Shaun:

told you

something’s off about that place

Desmond:

yeah well

off is paying better than broke

Shaun:

hm.

i have an idea.

Desmond stared at the screen, then typed slowly.

Desmond:

i don’t like it when you say that.

Shaun:

you’ll love this one

i applied to the cafe in the lobby

Desmond:

wait what

Shaun:

barista job. i start next week.

figured i’d keep an eye on you

make sure the capitalist death cult doesn’t eat you whole

Desmond:

i’m fine

you don’t need to go undercover

Shaun:

too late

call it espionage adjacent moral support

Desmond stared at the screen, watching the message linger like a slow loading virus, and shook his head.

Shaun was crazy.

Not dangerous crazy, but definitely ‘might build a hidden server farm in a storage unit just to expose corporate tax fraud’ crazy.

Desmond hadn’t looked that deep into Abstergo before applying. Technically, Abstergo Entertainment didn’t exist. Not officially. Not publicly. The website was half-built, the branding was inconsistent, and even the job listing had felt like a phishing attempt. He’d Googled it once—got a corporate landing page and a PDF press release that might’ve been made in Microsoft Publisher.

Supposedly, it was a “pilot division.” Something to do with interactive media. A new branch of Abstergo’s tech empire focused on storytelling and “memory-based experiences.” Whatever that meant.

Desmond figured it was probably just some exec’s passion project with too much funding and no oversight. Which would explain the stress muffins, the biometric elevators, and the eerie sense that the walls were watching.

Abstergo Entertainment was just another subsidiary of Abstergo Industries, which supposedly did medical tech, biotech, and some research stuff too. Something about ‘memory science.’ He’d skimmed the corporate site long enough to copy buzzwords into his cover letter, then stopped caring. As long as he got experience and a paycheck, he could ignore the sterile lobby and pyramid logos.

Shaun, on the other hand, cared.

Too much.

Desmond didn’t know how the guy found half the things he did—old court filings, shuttered LLCs, redacted patents—but he had a talent for digging. If there were skeletons in the closet, Shaun would find them. Probably label them. Possibly send them a polite email.

Still, Desmond had to wonder. Was this whole barista thing really about some undercover scheme?

Or was Shaun just being… Shaun?

The guy did have a weird habit of showing up when Desmond looked like he might spiral. Maybe this was less about Abstergo and more about moral support disguised as espionage.

He didn’t ask. He just shook his head again, stuffed his phone into his pocket, and went back inside.

——

By the time Desmond returned, the room had been rearranged again. Chairs in rows now, not circles. Everyone had settled in like they were preparing for a final exam.

The HR coordinator was already standing at the front of the room with a new slide on the screen.

“Welcome to your official rotation schedule!” She chirped, like this was exciting news.

Desmond slid into an empty seat near the back, sipping the last of his coffee like it was all that tethered him to this dimension.

“You’ve all been accepted into a ten week internship program.” She continued. “Every week, you’ll rotate through a different department in our Finance Division. That means new mentors, new challenges, and lots of opportunities to learn!”

There were some murmurs of excitement. Desmond resisted the urge to die.

“You’ll be in groups of three for each rotation. These groups will stay the same across all ten weeks, so please lean on each other. Support your team. Build those connections!”

She winked, too exaggerated to be normal.

Oh god, it was a group project. For a corporate summer camp.

“Each rotation will introduce you to a key department in Abstergo’s financial operations.” She said, clicking to the next slide. “These include, but are not limited to—” The slide flashed, bullet pointing the departments against corporate approved background: 

Accounts Payable

Accounts Receivable

Payroll

Financial Reporting

Internal Audit

Cost Accounting

Capital Expenditure Management

Budgeting & Forecasting

Inventory Management

Compliance & Risk Management

“Don’t worry if some of these sound intimidating. Your mentors are here to help. Just show up, ask questions, and take notes!”

Desmond nodded along, mostly to pretend he was listening. Ten weeks. Ten departments. Two interns glued to his side the whole time.

‘Guess I’d better hope they’re not insufferable.’ He thought. Or worse—motivated.

As the coordinator read off group assignments, Desmond barely registered his name until—

“Group 4: Francisco Randez, Caleb Larson, and Andrea Lin.”

He blinked. That was him.

A guy two rows ahead shot up like someone had just called him up to the Price is Right stage.

“That’s me!” He said brightly, like a labrador in a business casual button-down. He had blond hair, bright blue eyes, and the energy of someone who unironically said things like—‘Let’s crush it today!’

Desmond raised a hand halfway in acknowledgment. The guy immediately made his way over.

“Hey! Francisco, right? I’m Caleb.” He beamed. “Stoked to be on your team, man.”

“Yeah.” Desmond said and tried to sound more excited than he felt. “Can’t wait.”

From the side, a girl slid into the third chair with all the grace of a housecat hopping onto a sunlit windowsill. Sleek black hair, winged eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man, and an expression that said she’d already decided how much effort this internship was worth—which was not much.

“Andrea.” She said, voice smooth but flat. “Don’t expect morning conversation.”

“Got it.” Desmond replied, respecting the vibe.

Caleb didn’t get it.

“That’s cool! We all bring something to the table.” He said, completely unbothered. “I’m just excited to get started, you know? Learn everything. Meet people. Network.”

“Gross.” Andrea muttered, already scrolling on her phone.

Desmond leaned back slightly and looked at the two of them. One radiated sunshine. The other looked like she’d bite him if he breathed wrong.

‘I’m going to die.’ He thought. ‘I’m going to die in a corporate sandbox with a human golden retriever and a feral alley cat.’

The coordinator clapped again.

“Group lists are final!” She named the groups and their assigned department before turning to Desmond’s group. “Group 4, you’ll be heading to your first rotation in Accounts Payable after the break. Your mentor will meet you there. Don’t be late!”

Caleb gave a thumbs up like this was a motivational retreat. “Awesome! That’s where the magic starts, right? Payments, invoices—money in motion?”

Desmond looked at him, personally offended by the phrase ‘money in motion.’

Andrea didn’t look up from her phone.

The coordinator continued. “You’ll report to Janet from 9am to 1pm each day. She’ll walk you through the basics—vendor tracking, payment logs, invoice reconciliation, and so on. At 1pm, all interns will head back to the 16th floor for the daily group session. After that, you may return to your departments at 2pm before being released at 5pm. Pretty straightforward.”

Desmond just sighed.

Only ten weeks, he reminded himself. How bad could it be?

(Spoiler: it would be very bad.)

------

IDK if I'm even capable of continuing this cause I have my main wip, but like imagine William’s reaction. Imagine Desmond's reaction when he finds out about the mind control and human experimentation and is like, oh no I've accidentally joined another cult and he's like SHIT.

Cue:

Office spy!Desmond

Feral Tsundere!Daniel defecting to be with bae

Desmond stealing a POE

?????

Corporate espionage that ends with Desmond nuking Abstergo servers using Clippy as the virus--("Hi! It looks like you’re trying to commit genocide. Would you like help with that?")

SOLAR FLARE? IDFK. Why touch it in the first place? It needs Desmond's touch? FINE. Desmond sneezes, hits the Eye/ORB THING. BOOM. SOLAR FLARE CANCELED. THE WORLD IS SAVED.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - chapter four

you know you never stood a chance series

four: beg me to take care of things

qz!Joel Miller x f!reader

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: You continue your free use arrangement with Joel in exchange for shelter, but it hits a little snag.

Warnings: qz life comes with its own warning, dub-con due to power imbalance, trading sex for shelter, free use, vaginal sex, anal play, oral sex (m&f receiving), canon-typical violence, whoops there's more plot, Joel is mean/bad at feelings, no y/n, despite what it looks like this is NOT going to follow canon

also on ao3

“Not a fucking sound,” he whispers, stifling your moan with his hand. Ellie is asleep in the next room over, but the glass of the door between you is broken. It’s the only reason he feels comfortable leaving her in that room: the sole entrance is in his line of sight.

He’s got you pinned to the grimy tile, his whole weight atop you as he fucks into your cunt. You can’t make a sound if you wanted; you can hardly draw a breath. He’s not a small man by any means. But it feels so fucking good.

It’s been weeks. Ever since you got roped into this mission, ever since you left the QZ, he hadn’t touched you once.

It hurts in the best way, though just a little past the point of pleasure. There wasn't the time for prep. But your whole body is tingling just from finally having his hands back on you, his thick cock inside you, feeling like more than just a burden.

Each slap of his hips against you is a rebirth. In the six months before you started on this horrible trek, you had known very little outside of Joel’s touch. You went to work each morning, collected rations, and came home. He’d come home an hour later, always on edge, always looking for an outlet.

For six months, you had been little more than Joel Miller’s live-in fucktoy, and honestly, it was probably the best six months of your life since the outbreak. You wanted for nothing (at least in the realities of post-apocalyptic life—in the grander scheme of things, you wouldn’t have said no to some fucking McDonald’s french fries). You had protection. You had shelter. You had company.

Well. Okay. You sort of had company. You could count on him to speak at least a few words in the evening. He almost always made sure you came, too. It had been hard at first, relying on him, but there was no use for a martyr complex these days. The only one who’d suffer by turning down assistance was, well, you.

He doesn’t make sure you cum, this time, but you think he can tell you don’t need any help. The relief of having him inside you is enough, and you can’t spare the energy to be embarrassed about it.

After he pulls out, having covered your ass in his cum, he stands up immediately, knees cracking. He tucks himself away and nudges you with the toe of his boot. “Up, get dressed.”

You scramble up, tugging your pants back into place, and watch him for a moment. His jaw is ticking, and he’s scowling at the wall behind you.

You open your mouth, and he cuts you off. “Shouldn’t have done that. Not gonna happen again.”

You’re aghast. “What?”

“Wasn’t fair of me. Y’don’t owe me anythin’ out here.”

You take a hesitant step closer. His jaw twitches again, but he doesn’t move (or look at you). “You’re still protecting me,” you offer.

“I made you come out here. Kinda have to protect you.”

“You don’t, though,” you say, feeling emboldened enough to slide your hand up his arm to his bicep.

He knocks your arm away and grabs you by the chin. “Why’d you even come? You just do whatever I say, even stupid shit?”

“Well, yeah. Didn't really have a better offer.”

“Christ.” He drops his hand from you and wipes it down his face.

“How ‘bout you get some sleep?” you say warily. The bags under his eyes are deeper and darker than ever. “I can keep watch.”

“You learn how to shoot a gun when I was takin’ a piss earlier?”

“No, but I can still keep watch. I can wake you up if anything happens.”

You’re shocked when he seems to actually consider it. It’s the safest you’ve been in weeks, here in this abandoned high-rise. There are no signs of Infected or hunters.

“Fine.” He grunts. “But you wake me if there’s any sound. I don’t care if you think it’s a rat or the wind. You fuckin’ wake me, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you joke. Something darkens behind his eyes just for a moment, until he blinks it away. You file that away for later.

He hands you a pistol and a knife, just in case. Not that you’ll know what to do with either, but he can’t just leave you unarmed. You nod, understanding passing between you.

He sucks on his front teeth, staring at you for a moment like he wants to say something. You’re not sure you want to hear it, though, so you say, “Goodnight, Joel.”

Nothing happens. You stand, leaning against the door frame, Joel’s pistol in your hands. Despite his paranoia, there’s not even a squeak out of place, and he sleeps for four full hours before getting up. He moves more nimbly than he has since, well. Since Tess.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious to know what was between them. She had, after all, seemed very aware of what function you served to Joel, but there was no jealousy in her eyes. Maybe when he fucked her, it was like making love, and she was fine to leave all the rough, angry moments for you to absorb.

Or maybe it was nothing. It hardly mattered, and she was nice to you, so you respected her memory by leaving it alone.

Though you do wonder if that’s why he wouldn’t touch you anymore.

Dawn hasn’t broken, and Ellie is still asleep. When he comes out to check on you, you offer the only other comfort you can.

When you sink to your knees, he closes his eyes for just a moment and sighs. “Yeah, okay,” he says. His body had worked ahead of his brain, already undoing the button on his jeans, and he lets you ease him into the morning.

After, when he helps you stand, he holds you against him for a moment, and even presses a kiss into your hair almost absentmindedly. You figure maybe he’s forgotten his promise that it would never happen again.

And he does, for a little while.

When you first moved into his apartment, it was so incredibly awkward. Like, worse than a school dance awkward. Worse than walking in on your sister getting railed by some scrawny FEDRA officer awkward.

Eventually, you tracked his habits and rhythms and used the information to stay out of his way. You stopped wearing underwear when you were home, as it ended up on the floor anyway. After a while, he just started leaving you a couple of his shirts, and you gave up on sweatpants entirely.

You’d be lying if you said you were uncomfortable, and he tended to leave the shirt on you when he fucked you, so there was no need for dressing and undressing.

He left first in the morning and came home last, so the key quickly became your responsibility. He had shoved it into your hand the second evening.

“I’m leavin’ for a couple days. Lock the apartment. Don’t talk to anyone, and don’t tell anyone I’m gone.”

Before he left that evening, he ordered you to your knees and fucked your throat, wiping away the tears after he finished. “Be good,” he said, dragging his knuckles down your cheek.

And then he was gone. You locked the door behind him and sat on the dingy carpet, legs folded pretzel-style. The yellow fluorescent bulb overhead had a faint pulse to it, a barely-there dimming and brightening that started to hurt your eyes. What the fuck were you supposed to do here, in this flat you were haunting?

You didn’t dare look around. You ate the rations you had earned and left everything else alone. You knew there were pills, guns, and alcohol somewhere. You weren’t keen on learning where, though. Plausible deniability and all that.

Joel came home in the middle of the night three days later. The key issue became apparent when he had to pound on the door until you woke up to let him in.

“New plan,” he snarled when he came in. “From now on, when I’m gone, I’m lockin’ you in here until I get back.”

“Fuck no,” you said.

“The fuck did you say to me?” he said, stalking closer.

“What if you don’t come back soon enough? What if I fuckin’ run out of food?”

“You think I’d go to all this trouble to keep you safe and then let ya die in here?”

“I don’t know!” Your heart struggled to keep up with your irrational fury, and stumbled at his words. Why did he go to all this trouble? You were about to ask, but of course, he ruined it.

“What good’s your pussy to me then, huh?” He was chest-to-chest with you, towering with a venomous glare.

“I don’t know, Miller, you’re kind of a creep. Maybe you’re into that.”

“I’m a creep, huh? Then why are you so wet?”

You flushed, heat crawling across your cheeks and ears. “Who says I’m wet?”

It was the wrong thing to say. He pinned you against the door and shoved your pants down, plunging three fingers right into your cunt. You yelped at the stretch and pinch, but had nowhere to go, nowhere to run, as he brought them up to your face, coated in slick.

“Looks pretty wet to me,” he said, the words rumbling from somewhere deep and dark within. “Open.”

You did. God help you, you did. He smirked and pressed his fingers in, wiping them on your tongue.

“Suck,” he murmured.

You closed your lips around him and sucked until your cheeks hollowed around them, saliva leaking from the corners of your mouth. He pulled his fingers out and patted your cheek with the same hand, leaving a wet trail behind.

“Go get on the fuckin’ bed.”

"Which bed is the fucking bed?" you said before you could control yourself, and darted into his room before he could register your words.

You were hardly in position when his hands gripped the sides of your hips, and he licked into your cunt. “Fuckin’ slut, trying to say ya weren’t wet and waitin’ for me,” he grumbled, and nipped at your thigh before diving back in.

Your orgasm came embarrassingly quickly. His derisive chuckle brushed against your clit, which he sucked at until you were spent.

“Seems like ya missed me,” he said, standing and wasting no time before stuffing his cock in. “Well? Did ya?”

You didn’t answer, whining into the sheets as he set a slow but harsh pace, slamming in only to draw back out inch by inch.

He slapped your ass, watching it ripple. “Don’t be rude, sweetheart.”

“Oh, were you gone?” you huffed between thrusts.

He brought his hand down again. “What did I just fuckin’ say?”

“Y’know, come to think of it,” you couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t shut up, “there was a distinct lack of grouchy old creeps hanging around.”

He grabbed your hair and craned your neck back so you could see the way his eyes were blown dark, teeth bared. “Watch yourself, sweetheart. I’ve had a real bad couple of days. Here I thought I was comin’ home to a sweet cunt.”

You opened your mouth, though you didn’t feel a retort dancing on your tongue. You figured by the time you came up with it, you’d have already said it.

He didn’t give you the chance. His other hand came up, and he hooked two fingers into your cheek. The hand in your hair released to dip into your mouth, swiping his thumb through the pooling saliva. He dragged it down and pressed the wet thumb into the cleft of your ass, firm pressure against your tight hole.

You were breathing heavily around his fingers, back arched. He didn’t stop fucking into you, hissing as you clamped down when his thumb pushed in, just enough to make you feel the pressure.

“Awfully quiet now,” he drawled. “You just needed all your holes filled, huh?”

You thought you might die from the humiliation, if only the pleasure didn’t take you first. You squirmed, pushing back into him.

He jostled your head by pinching the fingers in your mouth and shaking your cheek. “You gonna be quiet if I take these out?”

You nodded. He withdrew the fingers and brought the hand down to your hip, holding you steady so he could chase his orgasm. Each rough thrust knocked a quiet cry from your lips, and he pulled away from your asshole to tangle his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back again.

The kiss was mostly teeth and spit, but it was euphoric. He felt the way you tightened and tensed, and he smiled against your lips. “Cum for me,” he said, and licked into your mouth to gobble up your scream.

When you convulsed on his cock, he lost control, and almost didn’t pull out in time. He spilled against the bed, swearing deep and low.

That memory and the many others get you through the lonely nights on the journey, your hand down your pants and gasps muffled around your fist when you can catch a moment alone. If Joel notices, he doesn’t show it. Except tonight, when you look back on it, you realize he was only making good on his promise not to let you rot in his apartment. Whatever delusions you had about being brought along get left behind in the shitty high rise.

next chapter

*title from "Send the Pain Below" by Chevelle.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 410: Kacchan Fights a Baby

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was born and then he grew up and murdered the Demon Lord.

Today on BnHA: Kacchan fights a baby. Tomura and Deku finally remember that they were supposed to have been fighting too this entire time, and get on with that once again. Tomura is all, “[literally just reaches out and grabs Deku’s face because Deku’s main character powers suddenly abandoned him in a fit of confusion].” Deku is all, “[chops off Tomura’s fingers which is somehow not even in the top twenty of violent things that have happened in this series in just the last five chapters].” Tomura is all “joke’s on you I still got your quirk :D” and fuck me he actually stole Danger Sense, what the fuck.

logically I knew AFO still had to be alive somehow because he’s too big of a villain to go out that easily without a proper sendoff. but deep in my heart, I’m still secretly disappointed

it just isn’t fair, lol. this guy has died more times than Rasputin and he’s still out here scheming his schemey schemes. when oh when will it end

sir you did not just say you had yet ANOTHER unused trump card up your sleeve??

(ETA: the translation isn’t fully clear here, but I think the trump card he’s referring to is the whole “I’ll just go back inside him and join the part of me that was already in there and we’ll take over Tomura’s body again together” plan that he was trying to pull off. I think. if not though, that’s certainly something worth speculating about.)

well as always the psychology in this series is unironically fascinating! he just wants acknowledgement at the end of the day, huh. just wants some love and attention. too bad he was born in a rat-infested hellscape and learned all the wrong lessons and turned into a crazed omnipotent murderlad

also he really did turn back into a baby sdfsdlkjfl oh no. I need to see Katsuki���s reaction to this immediately

oh my lord

(●__●)

lmao this is so incredibly fucked up

ngl though, this is karma at its finest. he tortured and killed so many people trying to earn everyone’s fear and awe and reverence, only to literally blip out of existence at the end with absolutely nothing to show for it

everyone please enjoy this series of panels of a deeply vexed Bakugou Katsuki picking a fight with this slowly melting evil baby

“you think I care that you’re a baby now. you think I won’t fight a fuckin’ baby. let’s do this you little punk”

also I’m sorry but it’s absolutely ridiculous that the gigantic chest wound Tomura inflicted on him got sewed up so neatly lol. AFO’s not the only one who stubbornly refuses to die no matter what

...

just once, it would be nice if Horikoshi didn’t immediately shred my plot nitpicks to pieces mere seconds after I write them

LMAO

BABY AFO DON’T CARE. BABY AFO WILL THROW HANDS WITH ANYONE ＼(｀0´)／

KACCHAN MY BELOVED FAVE OF ALL TIME, ARE YOU REALLY ABOUT TO LOSE TO A LITERAL FUCKING INFANT

WHAT HAPPENED TO “PERFECT VICTORY” LMAO. MOVING THE GOALPOSTS EVEN AS HIS CONSCIOUSNESS FADES. “EH, CLOSE ENOUGH”

-- OH FOR THE LOVE OF --

me: wow it sure is uncharacteristic of Katsuki to just pass out before he properly wraps up this battle

Horikoshi: oh yeah good point, sure would be a shame if someone... IMMEDIATELY ADDRESSED THAT CONCERN ON THE VERY NEXT PAGE

me: ఠ_ఠ

ldskjflaksdjfkds

fdsfsdkf. “SORRY ABOUT THAT, FOR A MOMENT THERE I ALMOST FORGOT TO BEND THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE TO MY WILL”

holy fucking shit. his body was all “um, just a quick reminder that you’re HORRIBLY WOUNDED and have lost like ten gallons of blood and all of your cells are about to call an emergency meeting to shut this thing down before you get us all killed.” and he was all “WHAT WAS THAT?!” and his body was all “oh my GOD, FUCK, OKAY just forget we said anything”

and meanwhile Baby AFO is just lying there all “(◉⌓◉)”

this six-month-old child is truly and sincerely still trying to kill Kacchan while screeching death threats in high-pitched baby talk

this actually would have killed him too, if he’d succeeded in passing out. all that just to be punk’d by a damn baby

you are actually shitting me right now

at this point I’m genuinely not sure which of them has the more powerful angry toddler energy

oh no ffuffkdsfk

meeeeelting. meeeeeeltiiiiiing!!! oh what a world what a world

jesus Horikoshi I am genuinely speechless

... welp

WAIT NO WAY, REALLY?!?!

?!?!?! WAS IT ACTUALLY THAT SIMPLE THIS WHOLE TIME

-- lkjf

three times. three times in the same fucking chapter. I give up. apparently I’ll literally believe anything this man says. does it feel good, Horikoshi. preying on your readers’ hopeful naivete

yeefuckinghaw lmao

GOOD JOB KACCHAN YOU DEFEATED THE EVIL BABY

awwwww

I actually had a theory about this! well more of a wishlist item, really. I can’t remember if I’ve actually posted about it yet or not. but it’s like. you know how Deku and Kacchan are always being really dramatic about holding hands? wanting to hold hands; not wanting to hold hands; being afraid to hold hands; holding hands via proxy, etc. etc.?

and you know how both Endeavor and All Might have each done their own version of the victory pose that Kacchan is referring to here? with each one using a different hand?

so you see, I was thinking that it might be nice. might be a little poetic and all that. if at the end of the fight, Deku and Kacchan did, in fact, hold hands. and then did the victory pose together. and it became like their iconic hero moment. them standing there together. having accomplished their goal and defeated TomurAFO through teamwork. realizing their shared childhood dream. and sharing that moment of triumph with each other and with the world, ushering in a new era of heroes

anyway yeah. I was thinking that might be a pretty good ending. but it looks like Kacchan maybe really is about to pass out here now, lol, so maybe not? anyways time to finally scroll down

-- okay I literally said awww again out loud

what a fucking nerd. I have never felt more fondness for a character in my life

every damn person watching this on the news better have leaped to their feet and started applauding, goddammit. those motherfuckers better be CHANTING HIS FUCKING NAME. all those nagging reporters better be bombarding his phone with calls. those fuckers who deleted his footage from the Shouto interview better be shamelessly leaving him dozens of voicemails acting like none of that ever happened and presumptuously asking when he can free some time in his schedule to visit their studio again. all the heroes who haven’t hugged him yet better be lining the fuck up. that one guy from the post-kidnapping press conference in chapter 86 better be writing a fifty page letter of apology!!

oh hey it’s a random pre-battle flashback mysteriously taking place in Troy “a few days before the battle” even though I thought they only moved into that place the night before the fight

I love how Katsuki immediately narrows his eyes (I assume. we can’t see for sure but that’s the vibe I get) at Jeanist and has to resist the urge to call the police on him for that pun

so Hadou’s wondering what Jeanist is talking about because they already evacuated the civilians, so what else are they trying to protect. and Edgeshot is all, “well obviously we’ve gotta protect everyone’s future,” which is a nice... rearshadowing?? for him saving Katsuki’s life later on lol

and now Mirko is all “get to the fucking point already.” which, same

so Jeanist says that Tomura is an even bigger problem than AFO, because at least AFO doesn’t want to murder everyone on the entire planet. and he concludes with “he’ll probably try to touch the ground and use his quirk.” which is a conclusion that I have to say wasn’t really worth two pages of flashback buildup for, considering that we all figured that out years ago

I’m guessing this is all just some sort of awkward transition back to Deku’s fight now lol

and now we’re getting two pages of exposition on how long it would theoretically take Tomura’s Decay to spread throughout the city, and then the entire country, yikes

damn. talk about stakes

and now finally back to Deku!!

shoutout to everyone who correctly predicted that Deku was once again talking out of his ass when it came to being out of Gearshifts. we all knew. unlimited supply

wow Tomura way to throw AFO under the bus

the way I recall it, AFO wasn’t the one who failed to kill him back then lol. but go ahead and talk your shit king

DEKU WHAT ARE YOU DOING

holy shit?!?!

like my first thought was “well last time he did this he just tried to steal OFA rather than Decay him, so he’ll probably try that again and it’ll be fine.” only to remember that the AFO inside Tomura is currently permanently(?) out to lunch, and Tomura himself doesn’t give two figs about stealing OFA. so, uhhhh >_>

(ETA: nevermind.)

but then this happened

Deku what the actual fuck

OH MY GOD??!?!

HOLY SHIT

okay. okay, fuck. lemme gather up my thoughts, and then we’ll wrap this up

they’ll never admit it, but you know the other OFA Vestiges secretly resented Shino a tiny bit for being the only one of them to not be gruesomely murdered. bet they all feel guilty for thinking that now

Shino and Banjou also seemed to have this cute little pseudo-rivalry thing going on, so I really feel bad for Banjou now. :/ he looks so horrified in that bottom right panel

gotta admit, I did not see this coming in the slightest. OFA has been this immutable “I do what I want!” quirk for so long that I never thought Tomura or AFO would actually succeed in stealing it, even partially. that shook me to my core

BUT, it’s also really exciting to me because it’s going to make this battle much more interesting if Deku can’t use his get out of jail free card. shit just got way more real and I’m here for it

lastly, so! let me tell you guys my prediction. I still can’t see Tomura being the final villain lol. I just can’t. it feels too anticlimactic. if I’m wrong, I’m wrong, and I’ve certainly botched MANY predictions in the past, but I have not yet learned my lesson from any of it and I will not apologize lol

so here’s what I think. Deku and Tomura battle it out for the next chapter or two, and Tomura snatches up more of Deku’s quirks one by one. we see all of the Vestiges disappearing and the mood gets more and more desperate. eventually we’re down to just Kudou and Yoichi. Deku is panicking, but for some reason Kudou seems even MORE panicked

Kudou/Gearshift eventually gets stolen too, and it looks like this might finally be it for Deku (I have no idea how he’d stop Tomura from Decaying the ground once Blackwhip gets stolen, btw, but maybe Katsuki or someone else interferes in desperation towards the end). but just when it looks like Tomura is finally going to take the last piece of OFA, Deku’s vibes suddenly do a 180, stopping Tomura in his tracks

cut to the OFA Moon Gorgeous Meditation Realm, where Deku and Yoichi are staring at the door -- yes, that door -- in shock. because it’s finally been opened (now that the other Vestiges are no longer there to keep it at bay). and just like that, enter AFO, for the THIRD FUCKING TIME :D :D

tl;dr, HERE’S HOW HORCRUX!DEKU CAN STILL HAPPEN!!! wait where are you all going. wait come back

anyway so wow that was a really bizarre chapter that I truly thoroughly enjoyed, which should probably be a bit concerning. on to the next two week break! (for anyone who’s not aware, Shounen Jump will be on break next week, so yeah.) I’m on chapter 391 now. so close but still so far. the end of the year has gone by too damn fast tbh

[manicali]

Okay I actually finally understand WHY there’s medical inaccuracy in Nagitos uh existance

First the inaccuracies themselves

So one:

He should be dead. Doing some quick thinking, he would’ve been diagnosed at age 15-17, ignoring the near impossibility of that diagnosis at that age (from all I can find you are typically gonna be older), the tragedy happened. So of he got it when he got accepted to Hopes Peak, a popular enough fanon, making sense as getting into his dream school and getting cancer/FTD makes sense with how his luck works. But that shit kills you fast, six months to a year. Now I have zero evidence to back this but I’m sure it’s closer to six months the worse your health is. In which case, severe psychological trauma, cancer, getting fucking shot, the tragedy, i think he gets stabbed in UDG. That’s just a bit of logic and guessing. It’s six in the morning okay. So yeah he shouldn’t have lived through the tragedy, which is a few years, based on my research, I think THH is on the early side, and DR3 is the ending.

Uh according to reddit the tragedy was however long it would take for class 77 to be about 20, adjusting for individual ages. Now. Danganronpa is really annoying with ages, because I distinctly recall it being 17. But Japan (according to google)follows the same numbers as Canada does (also like everywhere but I think the states does some truly bad things with words that are unfortunately relevant) so we can assume that in THH, which had to closely follow the end of the despair arc, class 78 is about 15-16 years old, being new to a high school, aka 10th grade. Unless hopes peak is unbearably fucked up in its system of grading, which would only exist because I guess my pain is funny. Despair Arc is at least a little bit into 77s second term at hopes peak, 11th grade.

(Also obviously he was diagnosed pre tragedy on account of doctors probably being unhelpful during the apocalypse)

REGARDLESS HE SHOULD BE DEAD BECAUSE THATS HOW IT WORKS

Not only should he be very dead, but he shouldn’t be able to function, especially not with the high levels of cognition and thought to scheme and plot, which most people don’t have even when their brain is intact!

Also uh

Second inaccuracy:

He shouldn’t be diagnosed. FTD, and I can’t remember if it’s explicitly stated in canon the specific type he has but I assume it’s intended as BvFTD, although I should research others to make sure

EDIT: Okay so I misinterpreted the article I read. It’s not easily identifiable pre autopsy, but a diagnosis still exists. So um.

Yeah anyways can’t be diagnosed til autopsy, which famously occurs when the patient is very dead.

So

I do think this was done as an explanation of his uh way of being, because while the trauma of being Nagito would’ve absolutely fucked someone up to the point that similar symptoms would present, (apathy, loss of empathy, obsessive thinking, ritualistic behaviours, ect I am not listing them all), it really shows how ridiculous his luck is, that he essentially defied science.

Anyways that was long and probably incoherent, again, Six o Clock and I have a cold so I’m sleep deprived as hell 👍 fuck yeah Ig

Source for my info is somewhere let me find it rq

Source for my research (recent at least) on FTD:

I don’t have the links for the research I did four years ago so not sure if it’s accurate <3

[tiffanyvampiremama]

Who I am and what I write.

I've had a lot of new followers lately, and I haven't really introduced myself yet. I'm Tiffany and I write fanfiction under the username Vampiremama (Or Readingmama on FF.net but I'm moving away from posting there) I have several GO fics of varying length right now. I have included some info below if you are interested in checking any of them out. I am working on a new very angsty AU that will post after my current one, so if you like dark and gritty with a HEA, stay tuned for that one as well. Seaside Rendezvous Rated T Set after S3. Crowley take their first Vacation only to find an uninvited tagalong. Prompt fic for a gift exchange. Hidden Canvases : Rated E AU, Human. Enemies to lovers. Excerpt: (Aziraphale POV) Of course, a man like that would also be gifted with talent. Just another example of the world giving all the best things to the wrong people. Aziraphale tried to be a good person; he wanted to be kind and gracious. And he was. But it didn’t come naturally. It was a learned skill, and people like Crowley reminded him just how much of an effort it really was sometimes. But being kind didn’t mean being a doormat or to watch his friends be abused by callous, big-city men. Sometimes, the kindest thing he could do was to just avoid a situation. Besides, he would only have to see Crowley on Saturday mornings at his class. And even that was limited. He was only there for the summer. And maybe he wouldn’t come back.  Cake by the Ocean. A Guess the Author Prompt from the Soft Omens Discord group. 500 word limit, the prompt: Cake. Rated General Audience. Aziraphale Crowley has been hiding something from him. A Dirty Dive Bar. A very naughty one shot. A tryst in a dirty dive bar leaves our ineffables very satisfied. Rated E Excerpt:

As soon as Crowley was through the door, Aziraphale pushed him back against it. He reached and clicked the lock in place even as his lips made their way to Crowley’s. Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, his surprise at the sudden change of events only throwing him off guard for a moment, and he plunged his tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth. And, oh, was his tongue a revelation. Such wicked things he could do, Aziraphale thought.

Aziraphale felt his heart hammering in his chest as he broke the kiss, his hands going to Crowley’s belt.

“I thought I was the one seducing you,” Crowley said, panting, as he watched his trousers be pulled open.

“Consider me seduced, “ Aziraphale retorted with a wave of his hand as he slid down to his knees. “Although, I’m a little embarrassed at myself, those pick up lines were horrendous.” The Lies I Would Tell for You: My second Season 2 fix it. This one is longer and more angst filled compared to Mistakes Were Made. Different plot ideas, and HEA outcome. Rated E Excerpt:

Crowley sat staring at the wine glass on the table. It seemed like a right shame to water down the wine, but he needed the look of the wine to calm his nerves, trick his brain. Steady his nerves. Had it really only been a month since he and Aziraphale had started the bottle. It felt like ages ago, but every minute since Aziraphale left with The Metatron had felt like an eternity. He thought maybe after a day, Aziraphale would come to his senses. Deep down, Crowley knew that the angel would put his duty above all else. Together, they had found ways to cut the corners, but now that he was alone, Aziraphale would be by the book. It wouldn't take him long to forget. Six thousand years wasn't all that much time in the scheme of forever. 

He picked up the thermos. It hadn't been hard to get Muriel to fetch him more. They were a much easier mark than Aziraphale had been. But also less fun. He was so clever but also so curious. He was perfect. 

Crowley thought about what his existence would look like now. No Hell; he was free of that. He had Earth, and he did truly love Earth, but it was tainted now. His love of Earth was wrapped up with his love of his angel. It weaved through his life in what once felt like a beautiful vine and was now a type of cancer, eating away at everything inside of him. 

He unscrewed the lid off the thermos and topped his glass off. Steeling his nerves, he lifted his glass, his eyes swung heavenward, and he cheered.

"To the world." The Cuddle Cafe: A warm hug in fic form.(One Shot) Set during the years where they took care of Warlock. Crowley is so touch starved he stumbles into a professional cuddle cafe. Rated T Excerpt:

Like a beacon, a neon light caught his eye from a building across the street. The sign read Cuddle Cafe. Crowley stopped and stared, and then looked around him to see if anyone was staring at him staring.

It wasn’t like he could go to Aziraphale and ask for a hug. Angels didn’t hug. Hell, demons didn’t either, but here he was, feeling the need for a kind touch. He could just walk across the street and go in, get what he needed, and get out. He could even smile at the human just so they wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable.

No, it was ridiculous, Crowley thought as he found himself walking through the door.

Mistakes were Made: Rate T. A quick Season 2 fix it fic. Excerpt:

“You don’t understand. I need to speak with God,” Aziraphale demanded, but his voice went too high and it sounded more like begging. Which was probably closer to the truth.

“Do you have an appointment?” the angel asked, looking up at him from behind her desk.

“An appointment? With God? Is that a thing I can do? In that case I would like to make an appointment as soon as possible.”

“You can’t make an appointment with God,” she looked at him like he was daft. “God makes an appointment with you. Of course She hasn’t made any appointments with anyone yet, but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

[bxriles]

The Importance of Authors Fulfilling Promises to their Readers

Seeing people defend Gege's writing of jjk these over these last few months is WILD. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and that includes me. So here's my 900th unhinged rant on this subject because hoooo boy there are THOUGHTS on this topic.

Before anyone comes for my throat, these are my opinions. You get yours and I get mine. And this is LONG lmao.

I've seen all the justifications for Gege's current writing saying that jjk is about being different from the standard shonen manga and being more realistic in its storytelling (i.e., killing the powerful characters) and whatever and YES. All of that is true. I don't have a problem with any of that. I would say all of that is why most of us fell in love with this story to begin with. Examples of this (done well) includes:

Nanami's death. Tragic. Broke my heart. But I think Gege was right to kill him. Nanami had served his purpose at that point, he died protecting the next generation, and despite how sad I was to see him go, I thought it was good writing. There was no need to keep him around at that point. Gojo gets put in the box. This made perfect sense to me from a narrative standpoint. Gojo Satoru is a NIGHTMARE for ANY author to write. His very existence is a problem because he can solve all of the problems of the universe and remove all conflict from the story. Sealing away the most powerful character was a perfect way to take him out of the narrative while still leaving his presence lingering over everyone. This also deviates strongly from traditional shonen because no character that powerful would have ever been sealed with ACTUAL ramifications in something more "standard" like Naruto! It broke the mold in the best way possible. I'd also say that the way Kenjaku went about sealing him was excellent. There really weren't any ass-pulls to get him in that box. Kenjaku takes Geto's body (a strategic decision), hides that body from everyone at the school, executes an insane plan that he knows will exhaust Gojo and mentally push him to his limits, and then SURPRISE! Here's your dead lover's best friend's body! Now get in the box(((: I thought it was good writing and completely necessary for the plot to progress. Megumi's possession. From the very beginning, Sukuna has been interested in Megumi. Seeing that pay off? Watching Sukuna do the worst thing we can imagine to Megumi? Amazing. Wonderful. Loved everything about it.

So, I don't have any problems with jjk's previous storytelling. I thought that it was well executed, broke the previous Shonen formula, and delivered good story telling.

You know what I do have a problem with? Writing like this:

Higuruma is suddenly as talented as Gojo. Bro what? I like Higuruma, but this dude has been a sorcerer for all of what? Two seconds? He's a suicidal lawyer who just got magic powers and only VERY RECENTLY started working with Yuji and company and he suddenly has as much talent as Gojo Satoru? The man with the Six Eyes? Be. For. Real. What is the point of this? If you needed an OP character, you already had Gojo. So again. What was the point?

Higuruma's possible death. We're only up to chapter 248 at the time of me posting this, so this may change. But as of right now, we've been told Higuruma is dead. He may come back, but we don't know. Either way, we're told dude is gone. What was the point of this death? We already saw Yuji lose a beloved male mentor figure (Nanami) and we already saw someone who had the potential to kill Sukuna fail (Gojo) soooooo... What was the point? We've seen this done before and it's boring to see it hashed out yet again but with new characters.

Kenjaku's motivations and death. I personally think that making Kenjaku a mad scientist for the sake of being a mad scientist is lazy. With all of his hair brained schemes (guys, he like straight up fucked Yuji's dad, come on), you would have thought he had some legitimate motivation. I can admit this is my own personal opinion and some might like this, but I think this is a weak explanation for all the nonsense he's done. And his death? Like... Okay?? Some rando newbie sorcerer is the one to kill Kenjaku? Kenjaku--one of the top two Big Baddies? All right?? I wouldn't say this is bad per se, but I would say it feels very unearned. (And before anyone freaks out, yes I know it's technically Yuta who delivers the killing blow, but it really was Takaba who put the work in and got Yuta to that point. Again, it feels unearned.)

And finally, the big one. The one that most people are upset about and the one that most people reference when they talk about the decline in writing and one that's about to get a(nother) long ass rant from me.

The lack of any meaning in Gojo Satoru's death.

I need to be perfectly clear that I do not have a problem with Gojo dying. Again, he's a nightmare character for an author to handle so I get it. I have a problem with HOW he was killed. Sukuna using Megumi's body was great. The whole battle of the domains was decent. But the end??? Gojo hits Sukuna point blank with a hollow purple (after Sukuna said he would die if he was hit with a point blank hollow purple) and then...? Sukuna pulls out some BS world cleaving slash that cuts Gojo in half (off screen mind you), heals himself, and then is perfectly--PERFECTLY--fucking fine after getting hit by an attack that he said would kill him???? And then he isn't weakened at all? Bro what??? How is that good writing? Even if you're all about subverting expectations and JJK breaking the shonen mold, how is that good writing? How is that satisfying???

Gojo's death meant nothing. He did nothing. He didn't even weaken Sukuna. He didn't give the students a leg up. It meant... Nothing. And I know that some people think that's the point, that jjk has realistic storytelling and that it's realistic to have a meaningless death but I would STRONGLY disagree. You want meaningless deaths in JJK for the sake of "realistic" meaningless deaths? You have Tsumiki and Yuki. Sure, Tsumiki's death pushes Megumi into the pits of despair because Shonen manga loves a good bit of *man pain* but what was her real influence on the story? Outside of the Megumi thing, she had zero impact on jjk. And Yuki?? Killed off-screen for some reason??? To buy Choso some time??? When she is arguably the more important one??? All right?? Christ, fucking Junpei's death meant more to the narrative and he was basically a fucking footnote in the grand scheme of things.

The problem with Gojo having a meaningless death is that Gege as the author broke his promise to his readers. Gege sets up a story that tells us how influential Gojo is and spends quite a bit of the narrative showing us once again how important he is. Whether he meant to or not, writing a setup like that means there will be expectations from your readers that no matter what happens to that character, it will mean something to the narrative. A good example of this done both well and poorly is Game of Thrones/ASOIAF, which is another story that breaks the mold of a genre like JJK.

Ned Stark is a POV character in the first book. He's important. He's the Lord of Winterfell and becomes the Hand. He's honorable. He's good in a world that favors the wicked and people know it. And then he gets killed and his death haunts the narrative and it means something. Robb starts a war. Sansa becomes a hostage to the Lannisters. Arya has to flee. Jon has to reaffirm that he's a man of the Night's Watch and can't go help his brother. The Red Wedding. Catelyn becomes Lady Stoneheart. The Boltons take Winterfell. The North Remembers (it's being set up better in the books I swear). And it goes on and on and ON. We're told from book 1 that Ned is important. George completely deviates from the fantasy genre by killing off one of the main POV characters in Book 1, but he still fulfills the promise that Ned's death will mean something and that Ned will be important even though he's dead. Ned's death then haunts the story from that point forward. An example of this done poorly? The show. We're told Jon Snow is important. We SEE that Jon Snow is important. Jon Snow is the rightful heir to the iron throne. And what happens? We get a season of "I dun want it!" and then he kills Dany and goes back to the Night's Watch to live out the rest of his days with his boys. He's not king. Killing Dany had no real repercussions. D&D tried to show us that it was Jon's identity that made Dany snap but it felt half-assed since she was already heading down that path before she found out. A promise was made that Jon Snow would ultimately mean something by the end of the story and guess what? Absolutely none of it mattered. He didn't even kill either of the Big Baddies. And he didn't do anything with knowledge of who his parents were. He wasn't Azor Ahai. He wasn't the prince that was promised. So it meant nothing. A promise was made to us by George (and the show runners ugh) that Jon was important and then it turned out that he wasn't. And the public outcry that GOT S8 received speaks for itself on how bad that writing was.

To me, Gojo's death is no different. The narrative sets up his importance. Gege makes a promise to the readers that this character will ultimately mean something and then... Nothing happens. That isn't "realistic writing" or "breaking the shonen formula" at all. That's just bad writing. You're not any less of a fan of jjk or any less of an analytical reader if you don't buy the whole "this is good writing because that's the point of JJK--to break the shonen mold!" There are ways to achieve that sentiment that are good. And I would even go so far as to say that the people like me who are irritated with this writing have no issues with Gojo dying. We have issues with how he was killed and how poorly it was all executed. And I'm not going to be told I "don't get the point" of JJK because of it.

And then there's the fact that Gege has set his story so far apart from other shonen manga (like Naruto or BNHA) that the readers will no longer tolerate any sort of "lemme pull this out of my ass" writing that they would have otherwise tolerated from Naruto or DBZ or Bleach or BNHA. (Note: I do love those stories btw! But they're guilty of this storytelling.) So when Gege shows us that Yuji suddenly has RCT (that's fine ig, he's been training) or tells us that Higuruma has as much talent as Gojo or does some bullshit that saves Sukuna from Higuruma's sentencing or has a random explanation that he pulled OUT OF HIS ASS for why Sukuna will inevitably get his shit rocked by the students, all of which are CHILDREN, when the strongest sorcerer of the modern era couldn't do shit to him, then YEAH. I'm going to think it's bad writing.

And yes, I am aware that JJK is Yuji's story, not Gojo's. I understand. I'm not saying I want Gojo to be the main character. I'm saying that this absurdly powerful character who influences everything was wasted in the hands of the author's current writing.

TLDR: It's not "good" writing or "realistic" writing for an author to write meaningless shit that ultimately does nothing for the story when that author has already made a promise to their readers to do the opposite. Criticizing this type of writing does not make you any less of a JJK fan and it does not mean that you "don't get it." You are allowed to be critical of a work you love.

Argue with the wall if you disagree.

[grayintogreen]

OKAY SO. I am (and this is obvious for my followers as opposed to this tag), I am currently running headlong towards the ending of my huge CR longfic, but I have started to develop my next project. Not sure when I'll start posting because if I do it too soon it's going to be hard to keep up with it and YCDHN and I do NOT WANT THAT, so I'm gonna poke at it casually while seeing how much of YCDHN I can write before I come back from my posting hiatus in March. If it looks like I'm making a lot of headway in getting the next three chapters written, we'll see.

SO WHAT IS THIS NEXT PROJECT? Glad you asked.

learn that even death may die is going to be a Hazbin Hotel fic that goes AU after 1x06 (due to that being where I started plotting it). The official summary is as follows:

When Lucifer agrees to seal his powers to set an example of humility to buy more time for the Hotel to work, Adam and the Exorcists scheme with the Vees in order to take the Hazbin Hotel down once and for all. Meanwhile, Alastor has a little secret that he'd like to be through with that would change the face of Hell if anyone knew...

And Husk has caught feelings, which is unrelated to all of the above.

It's a plotty, ensemble piece, featuring Found Family dynamics, Alastor and Lucifer being each others' biggest haters, Husk and Angel in a bodyguard AU for reasons, and the kind of plot you can expect from the idiot who brought you two million words about Cree Deeproots.

Here's an extended preview of the first chapter. Spread the word! Get hype! It's something I'm really excited to work on when I've gotten a lot more progress on my YCDHN backlog.

The last week had been… Harrowing, to say the least. The Extermination had been personal- deeply personal- and while no one at the Hotel had fallen, the line of angelic spears stabbed into the ground outside with demon heads proudly spelling out YOU CAN’T HIDE FOREVER (Vaggie had noted that was such a waste of spears) had made the message clear. This was going to continue and next time they wouldn’t be so lucky.

She didn’t know when the next would come- back to a year or another six months or another week. She had paced, relentlessly, as the Hotel put itself back in order and those who had been injured licked their wounds. Husk, in particular, had survived a scuffle with Adam, himself, and while he didn’t appreciate the warm embrace he got for his bravery, she didn’t know how else to thank him aside from maybe a very expensive bottle of booze at Angel’s suggestion, which he did like and seemed to like even more when she told him it had been Angel’s idea.

That should have been something she lit on! Something that she could really sink her teeth into and do something about! Were Angel and Husk an item? Was there unspoken tension? What would that do for Angel’s suitability to Heaven? Surely, a stable, monogamous relationship could only-

But no. She’d let that thought slide out of her mind with barely more than a hum, never mind a full number about it. Her mind had to be on the Hotel and protecting it. She couldn’t even do a lesson plan in these conditions! Activities had ground to a halt in favor of ‘work together to clean up the corpses.’ She was going to scream or bite or… or something.

Vaggie helped. She always did. The initial shock of learning about her being an angel had passed and while there had been some distance in the month leading up to the Extermination, Vaggie’s dedication to her remained absolute and she had nearly gotten herself killed multiple times to make up for what she felt were her sins in the past.”

”Demons kill each other and that’s different,” she’d said when Charlie told her that no one in the Hotel, save herself, was fully clean of demon blood.”They aren’t killing because they think everyone here deserves to die. It’s different.”

So that was still sort of a whole unresolved thing too, and that was just before her father kicked the door in, ready to throw down because he had one rule when his hand was forced about the Extermination and that was not putting his family in direct harm. Getting him to do more than fume and fuss over it had occupied a lot of time she didn’t actually have, but the end result had led her here… Back to Heaven.

With her father.

Outside the golden gates, he stood ramrod straight, fingers clenched so tightly around the head of his cane she was certain his fingers would grip right to the core. She glanced at his shaking hands and laid her own over them. “Dad, it’s okay.”

“I haven’t been back to Heaven in… Oooh.” He whistled. “Awhile. It’s…” He tugged his collar. “Not actually full of great memories, y’know, sweetie?” He leaned over to whisper. “Maybe we should just go back down and work on this on a lower level. I know some phenomenal wards. You think that dusty radio guy has moves? Your dad has better moves. I invented some of those runes he uses. My wards- pristine.”

She wrinkled her nose and pulled him closer to the front desk. “Daaaad, come on. It’ll be fine. I think things will actually work out this time if you’re here.”

“Really? ‘Cause I feel like they’re gonna go much worse.” As if to prove it, the second the pair strode towards the desk, St. Peter nearly flung the guestbook to reach for something underneath the desk. Charlie had to lunge to stop his hand from hitting a button with a very familiar runic symbol on it- fuck, they had a Lucifer button.

“Wait wait wait! He’s not- we’re not here to cause any trouble. We just need to talk to Sera- or Emily. Actually, I’d rather talk to Emily, if it’s… all the same.” She shot him a winning smile.

Behind her, Lucifer was making what could only be described as a ‘stink face.’ “This is going greeeeat. Are you sure about this, Charlie? It’s not too late to go back.”

“Dad!”

“Charlie!” A winged shape suddenly burst free of the Gates and wrapped tight arms around her middle. Unable to resist, Charlie wrapped her arms around the gray-clad form as well and spun her around. “Emily!”

“Oh my Heavens, Charlie, I’m so glad you’re okay!” Emily pulled away to grip Charlie’s hands so tightly that it was a pleasant kind of crushing. Like a weighted blanket. She leaned forward to whisper, “I’ve been doing all I can. There are angels who truly believe this isn’t right. Sera has told me to give it up, that doubting leads to Falling, because-“

Both girls looked askance at Lucifer, fiddling with the head of his cane awkwardly, that vapid look he got when he was overwhelmed making it clear that he’d stopped paying attention.

Charlie, for the first time daring to doubt, whispered back in a nervous high-pitched lilt, “Iiiis it bad that I brought him here?”

“No! I… I don’t think.” Emily frowned. “I should warn Sera, of course.” She stepped back and approached Lucifer, who flinched like he was about to be scolded- oh dad how badly did the angels hurt you. “Greetings, Morningstar,” she said, bowing a bit. “It is an honor to meet you. I was only a fledgling when you Fell.”

“For the record, I didn’t Fall. I was pushed.” Lucifer, seeing Emily’s own flinch, immediately softened and underneath all the anxiety, Charlie caught a glimpse of the angel her father had been once as he ducked his head and accepted her greeting graciously and with the genteel quality of true nobility. “Thank you for being courteous about this. Tell the High Seraph that we won’t take up any of her time. We… have a deal to renegotiate. It seems Adam’s legions have forgotten what we agreed long ago.”

Emily bobbed her head with a grin and slipped through a portal, leaving St. Peter to anxiously open the Gates without his usual aplomb. Charlie strolled through and Lucifer, feeling somewhat more confident after seeing how Emily treated him, tapped the poor angel’s desk with his cane. “Keep up the good work, Pete.”

The promenade was still full of people dancing about in a joyous display of virtue and peace, but now looking at it, all she saw were people who had somehow gotten lucky. She tried to find a commonality in any of them, something that she could take back and use to prove her point, but there didn’t seem to be a single thing these people had that hers didn’t… besides, you know, the fixation on sin and murder. And, honestly, some of them might have that too, hidden under the surface. Look at Adam.

“Heyyyy, Short Stack! How’s it goin’?”

Speak of the fucking prick.

Every fiber of Charlie’s body reached for Hellfire and only her father’s iron-tight grip on her shoulder kept her from exploding in a rush of demonic energy. Her horns appeared and vanished in the blink of an eye and she focused on deep, healing breaths as Adam, the walking canker sore, swaggered up to them on the promenade.

“They’ll let anyone in here these days, huh?” Adam planted his hands on his hips and grinned. Behind him, Lute bristled.

“Funny. I was gonna say the same thing about you. Hah!” Lucifer barked. All that anxiety he’d worn outside had been cast aside like an old coat- something about Adam had struck the same nerve that Alastor had only in a different key. A beat, and then: “No seriously, how did you get in here? I was there, remember. You also ate the apple. It was a, uh, whole thing, actually.”

“Yeah, but I did it second.” He reached into his ear with his pinky to dislodge a bit of wax and flicked it across the golden streets. “That counts for something.”

Still lingering on the angels’ wishy-washy answer about how precisely one gets into Heaven and with the proof that there wasn’t some actual code to follow right before her eyes, Charlie crossed her arms over her chest and fought the urge to scowl. Scowling gives you lines that make your smiles less effective. Everyone knew that.

“How’s the wifey, by the by, Lucy? Still smokin’?” Adam slammed a hand into a fist. “Oh wait. I forgot. You two are hella divorced, amirite?”

“We are not divorced.” Lucifer began to panic, whipping to Charlie like he expected her to believe any of that shit. There was something in his eyes that spoke volumes about the truth of what was going on with him and Lilith that she would have to unpack later- she hadn’t asked before. It was too painful to bring up. “We- we’re on a break. Yeah, a break. Just a break.” He swallowed, leaned on his cane, and adjusted his stance. “Which is more than I can say for you and yours. How is Eve, by the way? Oh waaaait! She’s in Hell. With me. Just like your first wife. Hah. Man, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say one of us knows how to treat a woman.” Another pause. He leaned into Adam’s space and whispered. “It’s me.”

Adam’s ghoulish face screwed up in disgust. “Yeah, okay, pal, you just drink your ‘respect women’-” are the air quotes necessary? really?, “- juice. You can use it to gargle after you lick my balls.”

“Adam,” Sera’s voice said, coarsely, snapping him to attention with a mumbled aw fuck mom’s home.

She hovered as glorious as ever with her six wings, towering over Lucifer as she landed between him and Adam, shunting him out of her space and into Lute’s. Charlie and Emily both shot him sour looks and held hands in solidarity as they watched the fallen Morningstar engage with the High Seraph for the first time in millenniums.

The seconds ticked on in agonizing awkward silence. Lucifer’s throat bobbed. “High Seraph.”

“Morningstar,” Sera murmured, politely, her shoulders tense. Another long moment of silence followed- clearly she was waiting for Lucifer to explain himself. Charlie’s palms started to sweat, but not Emily’s. Angels apparently didn’t sweat. Her grip alone, however, spoke to her anxiety matching Charlie’s.

Lucifer’s jaw trembled and he finally, finally yanked himself together again. “Maybe we can talk about this somewhere more private? The street is… Open.”

Indeed, they were starting to attract attention. People might not recognize Lucifer on sight these days, but that apple and snake motif was sort of painfully obvious when you thought about it for a moment. Sera gave a nod and circled her fingers in the air to open another portal. “Certainly. Come into my office.”

Adam started to follow and Lucifer thrust his cane to stop him. “No, no. Not you. Seraphs only.”

Adam snarled and lowered the staff. “Your piece of hellsnatch daughter ain’t a seraph, Little Man.”

Charlie saw her father’s eyes light up with a fire she only saw when he had to be in a room with Alastor. “What did you say about my daughter?”

“Dad.”

“You want me to say it louder? Or do you want me to moan it, Daddy?” Adam leered.

“That’s enough!” Emily snapped before Sera could, her small form crowding into Adam’s space, all of her angelic eyes open and glowering daggers at the lesser angel. He shrank back. “There will be no more disrespect in this room. Adam, this concerns you, so you will be allowed entry, but please keep your mouth shut.”

Charlie felt her heart squish as Emily brushed off her dress and then strolled through the portal, nose primly in the air. Sera, lips pressed together, only gave a sober nod and followed.

“How come he-“ Adam snarled, but Lute gripped his arm and pushed him into the portal.

“Pick your battles, sir.”

“I wanna pick this one,” he whined as he vanished into the Seraph’s study. Lucifer and Charlie lingered for a moment- one with hope in her heart and the other rapidly descending into the pit of despair after just seconds of glorious, if not damning and futile, wrath. She reached for his hand.

“C’mon, dad. You got this.”

The soft smile melted her heart even more than Emily’s protection had. He stood on his toes to pull her into an embrace and give her a kiss on the head- more to comfort himself than her, she was sure, but she didn’t mind. He hopped through the portal and she followed into an austerely decorated space. Painfully minimalist. Ooh this was not a side of Heaven she liked at all. There wasn’t even art on the walls. Just gray slate with a huge plate-glass window behind the bare desk. Not a single knickknack to distract from its function.

Sera slid into the seat behind the desk, while Emily stood at attention next to her, hands clasped in front of her, eyes still fixed on Adam, daring him to speak. He skulked in the background, intentionally toying with the boring book-laden shelves- also free of knickknacks and personal touches- by running his fingers on the spines or pulling them out and pretending to read them before tossing them at Lute to put back with a bored eyeroll.

Conjured chairs were produced for Lucifer and Charlie, which they took, gladly. With everyone who was going to settle having done so, Sera sighed.

“Let’s talk, Lucifer. What brings you back to Heaven? You were told to never come back.

[veerim]

Thoughts about the Reckoning of Roku but I'm only halfway through.

Very Unpolished. Also spoilers, I guess.

The Reckoning of Roku by Randy Ribay is the fifth novel in The Chronicles of the Avatar, a series of young adult novels set in the universe of Avatar the Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra. The novels follow various past Avatars and tell relatively contained stories, while expanding the world. So far, each Avatar gets 2 books to tell their story, Avatars Kyoshi and Yangchen both have had complete duologies written by F.C. Yee. Both of those douologies were, in my opinion, very good. As I write this I'm halfway through The Reckoning of Roku, and there are some worries I have about the direction in which the story is headed that I don't know how I would write around absent changing the fundamental premise of the story. Namely, this is the first time that already established narrative has loomed quite so large over the story being told, and I worry that continuity will require an unsatisfying ending to the novel and possible the entire duology.

The Reckoning of Roku follows a young Avatar Roku, about 3 months after he was announced within the Fire Nation as the Avatar. Naturally, Roku had to leave the Fire Nation for the Southern Air Temple, to begin his airbending training. Ribay takes great pains to characterize the young Avatar as nervous, humble and often enough homesick. Roku clearly misses his friends from home, most of all Prince Sozin. I think this is a nice premise, it sets up nicely the core internal conflict that is at the core of Roku as a character: the rift between Roku the Avatar and Roku the Fire National. This divide is made even clearer with another past Avatar introduced by the novels, Szeto (the fire Avatar before Roku) who clearly fell on the latter half of that dichotomy, serving as Grand Advisor to the Fire Lord. There's also a nice little bit of fictional historiography about Szeto, Fire National historians exalting him and other historians painting him as irresponsible.

The novel also follows Prince Sozin, who is shown to genuinely care for Roku. Sozin also continues the tradition of the Fire Nation's royal family being completely awful. Sozin has some seriously unreasonable expectations set for him by his father, to the extent that his father asks him to exploit his friendship with the Young Avatar to benefit the Fire Nation politically. This culminates in (major plot spoiler) Sozin staging a failed assassination of Roku under the flag of the Earth Kingdom to convince Roku to intercede on behalf of the Fire Nation in some small matter he initially refused to interfere with.

The plot is simple, to the point and thematically appropriate for the characters in play. What's the problem then? Look no further than season three, episode six of Avatar the Last Airbender: The Avatar and the Fire Lord. The episode follows much the same premise as the novel: a young Roku is revealed to be the Avatar, must leave his home and best friend Sozin, Sozin later takes actions that tear Roku between his allegiance to Fire Nation and his duty as the Avatar. So what's different, and why does it matter? The biggest difference is timeline: Roku's training in the cartoon is mostly glossed over, we see Roku train, but we don't see any of his specific exploits. We also don't see friction between the Avatar and the (now Firelord) Sozin until after Roku had mastered the elements. Moreover, the relationship between the two previous best friends didn't truly fall apart until Sozin invaded Earth Kingdom territory. This makes Sozin's scheming feel rushed and unreasonable to a reader familiar with the timeline presenting in the cartoon. Either Roku doesn't realize Sozin is playing him, even though that exact idea was pointed out to him by a young Monk Gyatso, or Roku forgives Sozin's heinous actions when they are ultimately revealed, to the point of making Sozin his best man. Both feel wrong to me, like they aren't the natural conclusion to the story being told, and I don't know what other more satisfying conclusion to the first half of this story is.

This is the first time the cartoon has caused such a problem for the Chronicles of the Avatar novels. The Kyoshi books are set in young adulthood, over a hundred years before any of the actions we see her take in the show. The story is thus unburdened from having to worry about events that happen later, and spend time building Kyoshi into the character she would become. The Yangchen books had a similarly easy time, Yangchen had very little about her established before the books came out.

[dent-de-leon]

ive been following you for years now (since around when promare came out) and this whole time ive just assumed that mollymauk was the main character of critrole but i was talking to a sibling and they were like yeah hes only in 20eps. that cannot be true. i fully was like yeah mollymauks the main character they drive the plot right right?????

HELP THIS IS SO FUNNY ASKSLG---wait, let me explain--

In the year 2018, I started watching the Campaign 2 livestream from when the very first episode aired. I watched live right up until episode 25--26, the one where they lose Molly? That was the first episode I couldn't watch during the stream, and have never been able to bring myself to watch it since.

So 26 episodes doesn't sound like a whole lot. But each one is usually between four to four and a half hours long--there are even some that go up to six hours, and the longest one clocks in at just a little over seven hours. So you're talking about each episode being like four hours--and they were once a week every week. So by the time episode 26 rolled around, I had been getting super invested in this character over the course of several months. I just now checked a list of the runtime for episodes 1-26, so--if my math is right?? and that's a big if lmao--we're talking about a character that has over 100 and a half hours of screentime in the beginning, which is wild--

So yeah, in the grand scheme of things, it for sure doesn't seem like much. But given the nature of CR, it was definitely more than enough time for me to get attached--though honestly, Taliesin had me hooked on this tiefling from the very first episode, I didn't stand a chance. His whole personality and the little glimpses we got of his backstory just meant so much to me, and I adored that he was bi and genderfluid. He's the kind of character that really draws you into the world; I was so excited to see how he'd change over the course of the story, how his heartfelt relationships with all the other characters would unfold--

Molly's character arc isn't abandoned after 26 episodes either. In fact, he comes back as the final villain of the campaign over 100 episodes later. When the tiefling we know makes his reappearance as the major antagonist Lucien, the whole final arc of the campaign revolves around him and his past with the Mighty Nein. Very much a case of someone haunting the narrative. There's just something I love about how Molly is the one that first brings them all together, and then the entire finale of the campaign ended up leading right back to him and how much he meant to his family.

And then the arc ends with the party finally getting the chance to perform a ritual to resurrect him!! It was a very long wait, but the culmination of everything to do with Molly in the penultimate episode was definitely worth it. There's also all the secondary source materials that add to his character. He's got a prequel comic like the rest of the party. And he's the only one of all the Campaign 2 characters that gets a whole novel of "his" backstory, mainly focused on his life as Lucien. You can even buy a copy of Molly's tarot deck, which is such a fun piece of added lore and depth.

Anyway, I am so sorry I gave you the wrong idea about Molly asjslfjdfhf but he is absolutely the main character in my heart 💜 So much of his character is about how every little moment matters. And even if you don't get to have someone in your life for very long, that time you spent with them will always mean something. Acts of love and kindness are never a waste, even if it doesn't last. He's a character who was loved so much it made him whole, gave him a second chance he thought he'd never get. His story is very melancholy and tragic, but it's also just so bittersweet and cathartic and heartfelt. He is,, my blorbo--

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Yeah I don't think Cardan and Darkling are similar he'd be more of a Madoc or one of those Princes. Btw can you tell what didn't you like about Jude's treatment in the books? I would love to hear your thoughts about that.

Basically I think she’s always held back and humiliated by the narrative? The way she’s treated often doesn’t make sense with her position in universe and the higher status she obtains (senechal then queen) the more obvious it is that the narrative just refuses to let her have any dignity.

I’m struggling to organize my thoughts because I just have so many criticisms of this series. I enjoyed it but that also makes me more disappointed with it when it flounders?

Like more general thoughts, I think the first book simply starts out poorly. The contemporary high school vibe to the interpersonal drama is an ill fitting one. Also the way Jude and Taryn are bullied doesn’t feel grounded in their lives and like faerie culture beyond just… looking like school yard bullying for the sake of plot. (Ironically I am fine with the high school vibes in TGT despite it being equally/more incongruous in-universe, but it serves a thematic function, so I can accept it)

Why is faerie high school a thing? Why are Jude and Taryn treated so openly poorly by anyone and everyone despite Madoc also being a fairly feared figure. There doesn’t seem to be a point where the bullying started more subtly and then grew when it became clear word wouldn’t get to Madoc/there’d be no retaliation. It just starts out feeling kind of flimsy.

(My proposed very simple fix would be to have no faerie high school and instead Cardan and his posse of important fae kids are being tutored privately and Jude and Taryn are included as a personal favor to Madoc. Which is something Cardan would take immense offense to!! Also a sort of bullying that just has more deniability than kicking dirt in their food. Like all smiles while also doing terrible shit)

Anyway past that point the first book is like. fine. If I had my way it would be longer, hingeing on some sort of plot the Court of Shadows foils. And the coup would be the sequel? To just give Jude more time to bond with them? And maybe get better at spying lol but that’s also baseline just an author failing.

Despite it feeling too early to me, I do really like how the coup goes down. And how Jude ends up out scheming everyone to put herself in power. The ending holds a lot of promise! The second book just doesn’t deliver though.

When it opens they’re like six months into the year long bargain. But there’s no implication of how that time has passed or that any of the relationships have undergone real development. Jude is supposedly seneschal and has basically styled herself as spymaster but she’s bullied in the exact. same. way.

The main trajectory of this book is apparently supposed to be her white knuckle clinging to her ill gained power before everything crumbles because she’s been going at it alone and refusing to lean on anyone— but she never actually achieves that high. And it feels uniquely gendered to me tbqh! Like I’m sorry a male protagonist in most other books given institutional power would be allowed to actually use that power and be afforded respect-through-fear if not genuine respect. But Jude keeps facing humiliation after humiliation.

The third act hinges on her kidnapping and being stripped of power. But like… where was that power to begin with? I didn’t really see it! It also doesn’t help that she’s uniquely terrible at statecraft. All her mistakes are just miserably obvious (not throwing out the magic blacksmith or whatever, not realizing the undersea would go for Balekin, traveling completely alone as a much disliked person so Locke’s crew could attack her) but I do think that’s more of a Holly Black issue than a Jude issue.

Then Queen of Nothing completely sidelines her in every possible sense. To the point where her personal story about her family, about her mother, are basically no longer relevant. The first two thirds are just completely focused on Cardan and speed running their relationship (that hasn’t had any real forward development since… the very first book? it’s just a constant rehashing of “does he…like like me 🥺” every single book omg) and then post snake transformation the plot is just a mess lol. Also I found the way the Madoc plotline resolved completely ridiculous. Yeah sure they’re all going to happily live in the human world. Totally.

I did leave a more detailed review of the third book on Goodreads and I basically stand by it!

[reyesstrand]

weekend wip game

thanks for the tag @welcometololaland (and thanks for thinking up this game lola!) @alrightbuckaroo @strandnreyes @theghostofashton <333

rules: list your wips below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future wips/ideas!) then answer the following questions. then, tag as many people as you have wips (or more).

1. wip list:

active wips: food fic

future wips: pottery au; aftermath of the solving of gabriel’s murder

2. which of your wips is currently the longest?

food fic, mainly because it’s all i’m working on ajdnskdn

3. which wip do you expect will end up the longest?

food fic will span from 1x05 to tarlos’ honeymoon, so likely this one

4. which wip is your favourite/the most enjoyable to write? why?

when it isn’t giving me a headache, definitely food fic. i love getting to look back at canon and extrapolate on moments we’ve seen (and include scenes we didn’t) focused on the idea of food as a love language. however the pottery au probably has the most little random snippets i’ve deposited into my notes app that bring some serious joy

5. which wip do you find the most intimidating to write? why?

pottery au, simply because full-on alternate universe fics are kind of out of my wheelhouse, even though i love reading them

6. which wip do you experience the most self-doubt about? why?

probably the gabriel murder aftermath fic, because i have a very clear idea of the sort of tone i want to develop through the story and worry about perfecting it

7. which of your wips will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? why?

food fic will have a beta (if they still want to even though they offered truly six months ago 😭😭😭😭😭😭) and i’m grateful because this i’m pretty sure the fic will be 20k+ and having a pair of skilled eyes look it over will be so helpful.

8. have any of your wips been struck by the curse of writer’s block?

…….have i mentioned i started food fic six months ago 🧍‍♂️

9. which wip has your favourite oc? tell us about them?

i’m very boring and unfortunately don’t have any at the moment!! hopefully some will come to fruition with pottery au once i actually try tackling it

10. which wip is the sexiest?

food fic, because cooking is sexy and tk and carlos agree and also because it has the only real “explicit” sex i’ve written. HOWEVER….i would be amiss not to mention pottery au, where the moodboard centred around this photo:

11. which wip is the angstiest?

probably will be the gabriel murder aftermath fic….shes gonna be moody!!! but also food fic has a lot of the boys and their unhealthy coping mechanisms. so both?

12. which wip has the best characterization (in your humble opinion)?

i’m going to say food fic only because i’m writing from a place of knowing the entirety of canon so far, and can use that to go back and write them as their baby season one selves. also, since it’s fairly introspective for both of them, i think this is my clear answer

13. which wip has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

i’m….going to say all three, in their varying states of completion. it’s something i feel most comfortable with as a writer and i think it’s something i tap into easily, and i think each has examples of this

14. which wip have you worked the hardest on?

food fic. it’s kind of become my baby

15. which wip do you have the highest expectations for? why?

….food fic, only because i’ve been working on it for so long and it’ll be the first thing i post since may. so. i feel a lot of pressure to make it “right”

16. do you dream about any of your wips?

only if i’ve been writing/plotting right before bed

17. do any of your wips have particular complexities that your other fics don’t?

hm….i guess food fic only since it’s truly following the whole development of a relationship, and trying to capture where they’d be emotionally at a certain moment in the grand scheme of things is complex. pottery au also fits here, though, since i know it’ll need some planning that i don’t always think about, since i tend to write canon compliant as opposed to au fics

18. which wip is the funniest or has the most humour?

i don’t think i’m very good at humour 😭😭😭 but i think most light-hearted, maybe, would be pottery au? food fic has some bright spots too, though

19. do any of your wips contain outside povs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? how are you finding that process?

ooh okay, so there’s at least one instance of this in food fic where we see owen observing the boys, and it’s something i love tapping into because thinking about owen with his boys always makes me 🥺🥺🥺 like he’s just so happy for them and sees their love for what it is and i enjoy whenever i can explore that, even if only for a few paragraphs. i think gabriel aftermath will explore more of gabriel/his relationship with carlos in SOME capacity, though i truly haven’t even explored it yet. it makes me excited though!! introspection is my favourite <3

20. tell us one thing we don’t know about one or more of your wips.

hmmmmmm i’d say that food fic was originally a 5+1, then a 7+1, but i couldn’t figure out what the “+1” would be/how i would phrase it, and i decided i liked connected vignettes following the trajectory of their relationship better. also that seeing a singular photo of ceramics on pinterest inspired the pottery au….tarlos brainrot will always take over at the most random times!

((sorry for not following the rules here)) i’m no pressure tagging @carlos-in-glasses @birdclowns @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @rmd-writes @louis-ii-reyes-strand @carlos-tk @redshirt2 @tailoredshirt @beautifulhigh and open tagging whoever would like to play <333

[howyoutalktostrangers]

So,

I'm going to have to cry onstage.

Since we've wrapped our performances of All's Well That Ends Well, I've been hard at work preparing for my role as Laertes in the upcoming Shawnigan Players production of Hamlet going up at the Duncan Showroom in late October. And now that I've given my best shot at comedic acting, this play will give me a chance to try tragedy.

I thought I remembered Hamlet pretty well from high school English, but immersing yourself in a particular character's headspace and spending months marinating in the text gives you a much more profound sense of the story. Laertes only has six appearances in our show, but has some of the most impactful lines and devastating scenes. He is briefly introduced in the beginning, then disappears for the majority of the play before reappearing in a boiling rage, intent on revenge.

Today we went over the blocking for one of the final scenes of the show, dissecting the text with my director Laura Faulkner and pondering the emotional trajectory Laertes is going through. Generally he's a principled and well-liked dude, respectful of tradition and hierarchy, but he's been driven to the edge of madness by his grief and fury — much like the titular character.

One thing that was identified for me while I was studying acting at Studio 58 is that anger is situated squarely within my comfort zone, something that was further confirmed while I was playing Bertram this summer. I should have no problem with Laertes' vengeful boasts — "I dare damnation", he proclaims at one point — but a much bigger challenge is portraying realistic sadness on stage.

It's a much more vulnerable spot to be.

In this scene, while plotting murder with King Claudius (played by Brian Dennison), I'm faced with the devastating — SPOILER ALERT — news that my sister Ophelia (played by Cecilia Dennison) has drowned. The news hits Laertes like a gut-punch, further compounding his already overwhelming grief, and he begins to cry against his will.

"Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, and therefore I forbid my tears," he declares futilely.

This is what I love so much about this character. Despite all his swaggering braggadocio and blasphemous threats, he is animated by a deep and abiding dedication to his family. The final four scenes of the show, in which he engages in a graveside grapple with Hamlet, participates in an assassination scheme and generally proves himself to be someone not fo be fucked with, are all driven by his overwhelming love for his deceased family members. Deep down he's a big softie.

When I was studying my copy of the Collected Works of Shakespeare, which I bought for Kristina earlier this year, I learned that Laertes is far more significant to the plot than I realized. The moment that his father Polonius (played by Rien Vesseur) is killed, he becomes the mirror image of Hamlet — a son seeking vengeance for his patriarch's murder. While Hamlet spends nearly the whole play procrastinating and second-guessing himself, Laertes flies at his revenge with a single-minded madness that serves as an example to our moody Danish prince. If it weren't for Laertes, perhaps Hamlet would've never gotten around to actually going after his murderous uncle.

In preparation for this show, I've been watching the movie adaptations of the play — I've seen most of the Kenneth Branagh version, and fast-forwarded to Laertes' scenes in the contemporary Ethan Hawke one. The things that stand out the most to me all revolve around his relationship to his sister (played by Kate Winslet and Julia Stiles) as she's the one who truly breaks his heart.

You get the sense, studying the text, that his quest to avenge Polonius stems more from pride and filial duty. It's something that he believes is expected of him. With Ophelia, it's different. When he leaps into her grave and ululates wildly about her perfection, the audience sees that he is wholly sincere in his devotion to her, that she's taken a piece of his soul with her. This guy is broken in a way that can't be fixed.

"A minist'ring angel shall my sister be when thou liest howling," he snaps at the presiding priest.

Shakespeare was writing from experience here, because he lost his only son Hamnet in 1596, which was approximately four years before Hamlet was published. I wondered at first how the Bard could write something so hauntingly dark and grief-filled, but when I learned of his own personal family tragedy suddenly everything made sense.

Was this play how he processed his own raging emotions?

Which brings me to my own sister Kathryn, who passed away by equally tragic circumstances to Ophelia, three years ago. Right away when I started learning my lines, I knew that this emotional reality would be dredged up by this acting experience. I may not have sought revenge when she died, but I certainly wanted to — I threw a Christmas tree across a lobby, kicked down a hotel room door and ended up in the psych ward three times in a month. I remember clearly being curled up in the fetal position in a snowy parking lot, chainsmoking cigarettes and convinced that I would never be able to experience happiness again.

I wanted to die.

So when Laura smirked at me today and said "you're going to have to cry" for this scene, I knew that Kathryn would be the emotional nuke that I could deploy to accomplish this somewhat terrifying feat. Most actors know how to cheat-cry, how to make their voice break or how to produce real-sounding sobs. But what I'm going to aim for is full out method-style tears, with real liquid running down my cheeks, each tear a tribute to the perfect sister I lost way too fucking soon.

If Laertes can do it, so can I.

The Literary Goon

[autolenaphilia]

System Shock

The original System Shock, developed by Looking Glass Studios and released in 1994 is a classic game. It’s a hard to categorize game, especially at the time. At its core it’s a first-person-shooter, but it got elements of a puzzle-adventure game with an emphasis on exploration that reminds me of the metroidvania genre. It just recently in 2023 it got a full-fledged remake from the studio Nightdive, but let’s talk about the original DOS version.

And I did play the original DOS version. Nightdive released an “Enhanced Edition” that runs in modern Windows with improvements such as mouselook, but I had difficulties getting that game’s MIDI music to run on my Linux box. So I got the DOS “classic edition” from GOG and ran it in dosbox, complete with the original control scheme.

The game had an unusual elaborate plot for an action game at the time. It’s a proper cyberpunk-sci-fi story, set in the year 2072. The premise is explained in the intro cutscene. The player character is a computer hacker, who tries to hack into the systems of the Trioptimum megacorp, but gets caught within minutes. A corporate executive named Edward Diego does however offer the hacker a way out and gives him a job offer. The corporation owns a space station in a orbit around Saturn, named Citadel Station, controlled by the AI Shodan. If the hacker goes to Citadel, and hacks into Shodan and removes her ethical constraints, his charges will be dropped and he will be repayed with a “military-grade” neural implant. The hacker accepts and does the job for Diego.

The hacker gets put into a medical coma on Citadel to recover from the neural implant surgery. And when he wakes up six months later, you take control and begin the game. It’s here where System Shock reveals itself to be quite innovative in game storytelling. The intro, death and ending cutscenes are the only traditional cutscenes you get in this game. Instead this game’s story is told through exploration from an unbroken first-person perspective, four years before Half-Life.

There aren’t even the dialogue trees you had in rpgs and adventure games of the time. And that’s because once you wake up on Citadel Station, you’ll quickly find that pretty much everyone is dead, or will be when by the time you get to them. And the whole game takes place on Citadel Station. There is a lot of gore in this game, as you find dismembered bodies everywhere. Your character slept through a disaster.

Shodan has of course rebelled against humanity, and is turning Citadel’s research technology against her creators. She has aspirations to godhood, and wants to remake life to her own liking. Shodan has therefore turned humans into mindless mutants with bioweapons, or converted them into her cyborg slaves, or created pure metal robots. And she is aiming the station’s mining laser against earth cities and unleashing her bioweapons upon what’s left after that. To be fair to Shodan and her hubris, being able to design and create life and rain death from the heavens is pretty god-like. You of course has to stop her and save humanity.

The way you piece together this is by exploring and finding audio logs left behind by humans and even Shodan, scattered across the station. You also get voiced e-mails from people monitoring the situation back on Earth, and Shodan sends some threatening ones herself. This is a system of storytelling that is almost cliché nowadays but which System Shock pioneered back in 1994. And it’s very well implemented here. It’s a way of storytelling that is built around exploration, you find the story by exploring and you can keep exploring while you listen to the audio.

System Shock is usually seen as the progenitor of the genre of “immersive sim” and immersive it is.

The feeling of exploring the aftermath of a disaster, putting together what happened and how to fix it piece by piece is very compelling. It helps that you don’t have traditional objective system telling you what to do, instead you have to figure it out by listening carefully to all these audio logs.

The story isn’t original or that complex. But the way it’s told makes it actually engaging, because you have to piece it together yourself. And Shodan is such a great villain. Her writing and the voice acting of Terri Brosius, distorted through clever sound editing, is excellent and rightfully iconic and influential. Glados in the Portal gamestakes a lot from Shodan.

The level design is also built around exploration.. There are multiple levels of Citadel Station, and there is progression from one level to the next, but you can return to previous levels, and in fact the game requires you to backtrack at certain points. The levels are built so you can explore somewhat non-linearly. The game is in many ways a first-person metroidvania, where you explore a large interconnected map, filling in your own automap, finding tools and abilities as you go along, enabling you to explore further by accessing areas you couldn’t before.

Thanks to the neuroimplant, the hacker has access to various cybernetic hardware that give him superhuman abilities. So you can get a lantern installed to navigate dark areas, an envirosuit to resist bio contamination and radiation, a booster to run faster, and most importantly to access new areas, jetboots to float and fly. Your abilities drain electricity, which is their main limitation. You have to literally recharge your batteries to keep on using them, from Citadel’s power stations or portable batteries you can find. It’s a neat gameplay feature that give some power fantasy kicks without feeling too overpowered.

The immersion is helped by how the level design aspires to far greater realism than was common in non-adventure games at the time. Most game levels were pretty abstract and served often no purpose but to challenge the player. The mazes with monsters of Doom is a good example. Now the levels of System Shock are probably too maze-like for complete realism, but there is a clear sense that the game environments serve a in-universe purpose. Each level of Citadel station had a purpose for the people who once used it, there is a medical floor, a research floor, a maintenance floor, to name only the first three. And every texture in the game has a name that will appear if you click on it, which often explains its purpose.

And part of why Shodan is such a great villain is that she is literally integrated into the levels. Citadel Station is her body, she is the mind of the station, and you feel that she is omnipresent throughout the game. And she has turned it against you and has in fact already killed all the other humans within. She is watching you from her security cameras, and knows what you are doing. Shodan sometimes sends messages directly to you, mocking and threatening you. But she is still a presence even when she isn’t as direct. All the enemies and obstacles you face is her doing. Her image sometimes appears on computer screens randomly, probably just to freak you out.

And beyond sending enemies at you and setting traps, Shodan directly locks doors that prevent your progress. A major gameplay element is lowering Shodan’s control over each level, so that she can no longer block those doors. And you do that by smashing the security cameras and blowing up Shodan’s computer nodes, lowering the level’s “security level.” And once it’s gone or low enough, doors Shodan once locked can be opened.

It’s a major part of progressing through the game. Shodan calls the player character an insect, and playing the game you do feel like a computer bug she has, small and insignificant but messing up her plans and functioning. You are like the literal bug found in Harvard Mark II that may have caused the term computer bug to be coined. Or like a rat chewing at Shodan’s wires.

Now this immersive storytelling is partially possible because System Shock was such a technologically innovative game.

System Shock’s engine was a technical marvel at the time, because it was an engine for a first-person shooter with full-fledged, actual 3D. The back cover calls it “the gaming world's first true 3-D simulation.” Doom had come out the year before, but it was a kind of fake 3D, where “room over room” multi-level structures are not possible. System Shock’s producer Warren Spector actually coined the term “2.5D” in a contemporary interview to describe his games competitors like Doom.

And Spector was right to brag a bit, System Shock engine seems ahead of its time. We take it for granted today that if for example you have a bridge in a 3D game you can both walk on it and under it, but being able to do so in System Shock was impressive in 1994. The only thing not fully 3D is that enemies and objects are 2D sprites but it’s well-implemented.

The full 3D engine allows for a pretty much unprecedented freedom of movement compared to games at the time. You can look up and down, you can lean and look around corners, you can crouch and go prone to get into tight spaces. Nowadays this is standard, but in 1994 revolutionary. Being able to go vent-crawling or taking shots from cover by leaning around a corner was really new. Gordon Freeman learned to vent-crawl from the System Shock hacker.

The control system does shows its age though. There is no mouselook. Instead you control the camera entirely with the keyboard, you press R to look up, F to center your view, and V to look down. You can’t rebind the keys in the original DOS version, which also means you are stuck with ASDX for movement (A=forward, A and D= turn left and right, X= backward, and Z and C to strafe left and right). This game came before WASD became the standard, although interestingly it uses Q and E for the lean function, leaving W as the only letter key in that part of the keyboard without a movement binding.

The game also came with one of the largest and most elaborate HUDs to ever grace a first-person-shooter. Instead of mouselook, you can move the cursor into the HUD to operate it. The HUD is actually quite useful once you understand how it works, it’s how you use your cybernetic abilities, but getting that understanding is the difficulty

The movement system is definitely useable, but it’s awkward. The controls and HUD have been compared to playing an operating system. There have been a lot of fanmade ports like System Shock Portable and Shockolate, the official Enhanced Edition and the recent remake, all to fix the original game’s control scheme by adding mouselook and WASD controls.

Still, you can become accustomed to and proficient at the original control scheme if you put the effort in, I did. It is in fact like learning a new OS, but that’s doable.

And even if you don’t become proficient, you can adjust the difficulty. And System Shock’s difficulty settings are unique. You can adjust the difficulty on different game elements, combat, puzzles, plot and cyberspace, independently of each other. You can make this into essentially a point-and-click adventure game by turning puzzles difficulty up and combat difficulty all the way down. Or a pure run-and-gun shooter by turning up combat and removing plot and puzzle difficulty. It’s such a flexible system that you can turnSystem Shockinto a clone of Beneath a Steel Sky or Doom depending on your tastes.It’s a great difficulty system where each player can create a game challenge suited to their tastes.

Even the combat has an interesting and forgiving mechanism: the restoration bays. They are medical machines, one per every level of the station, that can revive people from near-death. Shodan however has converted them into machines that turn people into her cyborg slaves. But thanks to the work of another resistance member, you can flip a switch on each level to turn the machines back into revival machines. When you die on a level where you flipped the switch on the machine, Shodan’s robots will drag you to the machine to turn you into a cyborg, but the machine revives you instead. So you can die on that level without any serious penalty once that switch is flipped. If you die before that switch is flipped, you get a game-over cutscene of being turned into a cyborg. You have to find the machine and its switch on each level before you are safe.

I played it as an adventure game, where the only dangers were environmental hazards. But I could tell that the gunplay in this game is satisfying if you play it as a shooter, despite the awkward controls. The lean system allows you to take cover, and there is a rich variety of guns with satisfying animations and noises, and the death animations of the enemies are also enjoyable.

I do recommend turning the cyberspace difficulty all the way down. It’s probably the most splashy, but also the most awkward to actually play gameplay element of System Shock. It’s essentially a minigame where you use your neural implant to hack computer systems. And the way the game portrays this is you flying around a flashing wireframe environment running into floating blocks and shooting things at enemies. You have full free 3d movement, like the Descent series.It looks cool, but the controls are awkward and floaty. And it’s a pain to navigate the wireframes. And the developers clearly knew that, since they put gigantic arrows pointing you in the right direction. I have no regrets about making enemies non-aggressive and having a generous timelimit to it.

The fact that the final boss battle against Shodan takes place in cyberspace is part of why it disappoints. Going into cyberspace to navigate an annoying wireframe maze to find Shodan’s cyberspace avatar and shoot at it until it dies is such a disappointing ending. After a whole game where the player has been fighting Shodan in more indirect and more interesting ways, just shooting at her cone form until she dies is not that engaging. The ending cutscene essentially is just a joke too.

Still, if the ending is disappointing, it’s because it’s very hard to end such a great game satisfactory. This is a hard game to describe, because the gameplay and storytelling mechanics are so complex and varied, which is why this review is a bit rambling. There is so much to talk about, and it’s all interconnected. It’s a game that allows for such freedom in how it is played that the player is given the tools to make their own game, make their own way through Citadel station. It’s such an intelligently designed immersive experience that is remarkably advanced for 1994. And it has one of the greatest villains in all of video games. Hail SHODAN.

[billconrad]

Defending My Work

    I recently came to an unexpected conclusion about writing. To be noticed, a book must contain a hook to get the reader’s attention, and this element is often controversial. Unfortunately, releasing a controversial topic to the public angers a few people. Therefore, I must defend my work by insisting that my books are moral, have a good plot, and are always worth reading.

    A good example is in my first book. It contains two torture scenes. As a result, I get at least one complaint monthly in the form of a bad review, social media post, or email on my book website.

    What are people complaining about? They dislike the gore. But what about other books? How does mine stack up? While I do not seek out horror, true crime, violence, or torture works, I occasionally encounter them. A good example is A Writer at War by Luba Vinogradova and Antony Beevor. This excellent book contains a horrific description that haunts me to this day. Of course, I will not reveal the details, but in the grand scheme of writing, other works have far worse descriptions.

    My answer is that if this A Writer at War scene is a ten, then my scene is a two. Thus, I want to tell the people who feel offended, “You really should not be upset by my timid book.” The people voicing their concerns would say, “I do not want to read your filth.” Or, “Why are you poisoning our world with hate?”

    I try to tell them my words are not bad, but I still get upset. My counter-counter argument is, “Did you read the description? You should have known beforehand that my book is a thriller. Plus, the book is fictional, and nobody was assaulted. Everything is fine.”

    Some of the posts I respond to, and others I ignore. My active defense is to insist that my books do not contain flaws and are worthy of being read. Yet, I must clarify my efforts to defend which differs from an advertisement or a plug. For example, “Hey, have you read Interviewing Immortality? You will really like it!” Unlike the dreary, “Interviewing Immortality contains a solid plot everybody can enjoy.” (Damage control mode.)

    Why did I risk controversy by creating a torture scene? That was the most exciting plot I could develop. Translation: I liked the concept so much that I had the confidence to get off the sofa and sit in front of my keyboard for six months.

    At my core, I am a stubborn survivor. I chose to be an author and went into this with my eyes wide open. Nobody forced me to write a specific story. Yet, I knew there would be criticism from the haters, and I would have to defend myself. However, I had no idea it would be such an uphill battle. Honestly, my books are a two out of ten on the horror scale at best.

    What is my reward? I get a few compliments and cherish each one. Yet, that is not the biggest reward. I get the most satisfaction by reading my stories. I love seeing what my characters are up to. When they succeed, I succeed.

    You’re the best -Bill

    May 24, 2025

    Hey, book lovers, I published four. Please check them out:

    Interviewing Immortality. A dramatic first-person psychological thriller that weaves a tale of intrigue, suspense, and self-confrontation.

    Pushed to the Edge of Survival. A drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

    Cable Ties. A slow-burn political thriller that reflects the realities of modern intelligence, law enforcement, department cooperation, and international politics.

    Saving Immortality. Continuing in the first-person psychological thriller genre, James Kimble searches for his former captor to answer his life’s questions.

    These books are available in softcover on Amazon and in eBook format everywhere.