#assassin vs assassin trash

[omniblades-and-stars]

Don't Forget the Rules (A Game of Charades)

Wicked Game Part 2

Read on AO3

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his lips, and she meant it, despite the bitter taste on her tongue. Or because of it, rather. 

Poison. A toxin crafted specifically for her target, hidden in a little capsule beside her teeth. A trick she picked up from old spy vids. This trick was so much less dangerous in a world where her target didn’t have hemoglobin like her. At worst, she'd get hives and a violent stomach ache. She already felt sick to her stomach. 

Those endless pools of black galaxies staring at her, calm, serene. Even in the face of his upcoming death. It drove her crazy.

He drove her crazy. 

The way he was so good at their shared profession. He was the only one she'd ever encountered who could match her skill for hand to hand fighting. And he had this unsettling way of disappearing into shadows that set her teeth on edge. It bordered on supernatural.

It was also in the way he made her lose focus and make mistakes. The way his voice thrummed through her body, like a song that hit just the right notes to make her skin prickle and a shiver roll down her spine, igniting more than just desire.

The way the low light in the room shimmered across brilliant scales, made so much more vibrant in the familiar haze she was under the influence of. 

He didn't say anything to her. Didn't fight her. He didn't even try to stop her from leaving. And he didn't beg for his life.

He never begged for his life.

She gathered her things quickly and slipped out into the surprising, nonstop daylight of the Citadel wards. The lack of a true night cycle made her miss Earth ... sometimes.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as she darted away to disappear into the crowd of club-goers waiting in line by one of the many loud, blacklit clubs there. She told herself the tears were just from the sudden, intense light. Definitely not the unsettling guilt worming its way through her guts, gnawing on her ribcage, sharp like a vulture's beak. 

No. Absolutely not. Like hell did she feel guilt over him. How many times had his blade kissed her skin? Almost as many times as his lips. 

Sure, she'd tried to kill him first, and several times after that, but he played the game just as much as she did. Their games had rules, they fought each other "to the death" before they eventually ended up naked and blowing each other's minds. Or, they started with the mind blowing to try to get each other's guard down and made the attempt. 

She had just been following the rules.

No. She didn't miss him already. Or at all.

Ever.

And she didn't regret it.

The Shepherd wiped her eyes again and pushed bodily past a group of tittering asari maidens.

“Excuse me! You spilled my drink all over my dress! This is genuine leather,” one of the women called after her.

The Shepherd pulled a credit chit from inside her jacket and turned back to the group of women. She placed it in the woman's soft hands and looked up into beautiful golden eyes. “I'm so sorry. It's just ... oh,“ she brought her hand to her mouth and choked back more tears. ”Sorry, sorry. My boyfriend just broke up with me, and... God, I'm so embarrassed.”

The woman pushed the chit back into The Shepherd's hands, “Oh, no I'm so sorry, sweetie. Please, don't worry about it.” The asari leaned in close, "Do you want me to go find him and rough him up a little with biotics?" Her breath was heavy with asari brandy.

The Shepherd giggled weakly and shook her head, "No. I mean, it would be funny, but he's in C-Sec and it would be a whole mess." She made a show of sniffling and trying to clean her nose on the sleeve of her jacket and offering a weak smile.

Why was she even doing this?

She couldn't help herself.

"By the goddess! You're bleeding!" One of the other women exclaimed, grabbing the edge of The Shepherd's jacket and pointing at her chest.

She looked down to see scarlet spreading across the front of her glittering yellow shirt. 

Clever. Fucking. Drell.

Between the medigel anesthetic effects after their battle, and his venom in her system from …

Well, she couldn't really be surprised she hadn't felt one of his insanely sharp knives. They were like scalpels. Stupid mistake. She'd gone toe to toe with other assassins before, and never almost got killed so easily as she did with him.

The Shepherd grabbed her ribcage dramatically before hunching over. "Oh my God! He stabbed me! Please call the paramedics, I don't want to die!" She wailed for effect. Hopefully she wasn't actually bleeding to death. It would be so embarrassing if he managed to get her like that.

She also really, really didn't want to die. 

This job had been a lot of work to get to goal. She ran herself ragged all over the Citadel to make her alter ego someone who could be counted on to get things done. And to show a real pride in civil service and other vomit inducing garbage like that. She ran errands for cranky ambassadors, sad, past-their-prime generals, argumentative hanar, made herself useful to some C-Sec detective running an undercover op, and even promised to look into some asari diplomat's kidnapped sister.

Something she wasn't going to do. That crazy bitch was lying through her perfect, beautiful teeth. The Shepherd knew a liar when she met one. As the old saying went, “Game recognize game.”

Also, she was not actually an Alliance Marine in charge of a starship. She just spoofed and updated old credentials, fed them into the Alliance’s personnel records systems, and infiltrated C-Sec systems and added false records of her arrivals and departures on the station. Child's play, really. 

All to earn the trust of her target, a retired turian C-Sec captain who was apparently looking for an ambitious young person to mentor, and she was just that person. Her last tour was almost up, she was growing tired of life on spaceships. She was looking to join the civilian sector once she was officially out, but she just really wanted it to be an honorable job. And didn't you know you have to have recommendations and approval from the Council to join?

They often met in a park in the Presidium to play chess, or rather, he thought he was teaching her chess. She wouldn't have even bothered with actually doing all of the work she had done to gain his trust, but her research into the man showed that he was thorough and slow to trust. If she couldn't fake the paperwork, so to speak, she needed people to back her up.

It would certainly have been easier to just scope and drop the man from the keeper tunnels and catwalks. Or break into his apartment and slit his throat in his sleep. Or poison his food. Any plethora of much easier, quicker methods. 

Well, she was definitely going to poison him, but not without spending some time with him first.

Maybe that was fucked up, but it was about the challenge. The risk of getting discovered, the thrill of having to improvise when things went wrong, the adrenaline rush when it turned into a battle. If she wanted a job that was formulaic and safe, she'd have gone into varren wrangling, hedge fund management, or joined the Eclipse Sisters instead.

"How was your day, Nora?" The older turian asked as he moved one of his pieces. She wasn’t really paying attention to what he was doing on the board. It was much easier to pretend to be bad at the game if she let her mind wander.

The Shepherd sighed forlornly, propping her elbow on the table and resting her cheek in her palm as she made her move. “Well, I helped out the Consort like you asked. She’s a lovely woman, by the way, thank you for introducing us, Quintus. But while I was running all over the Presidium to help iron out that whole debacle, I had an … interesting encounter with a diplomat.”

The man hummed gently as he watched the board, “Tell me about it.”

“Well, this asari woman waved me down while I was stopping to chat with the bartender over in the Embassies, Wilson. He knows all of the people to talk to around here, so he’s a great resource,” she started to explain. Wilson was mostly just a great resource of overpriced cocktails and the sort of conniving gossip that The Shepherd loved to listen to. Even if she was never going to meet the subjects of their talks.

“Anyways, she tells me that she heard about how I was helping Sha’ira and that she needed my help to rescue her sister, who had been kidnapped.” She moved a pawn, and he captured it immediately. “She asked me to keep it hush hush because she already paid a ransom to secure her sister’s release, but the pirates just took it and are blackmailing her now.”

“As I understand it, diplomats are required to report any attempts at ransom or blackmail to the Council.”

“They are, but that’s not what rubbed me the wrong way,” she started, then she shifted uncomfortably before adding, “Well, not the main thing.”

The old turian looked up at her and met her gaze with piercing blue eyes. His brow plates shifted, furrowing in an inquisitive way before he asked, “And what is it that bothered you about it?”

“How exactly did she know I was helping Sha’ira?” The Shepherd gave Quintus a meaningful look with a raised brow. “I was discreet, I only spoke about the job with those involved. And given how embarrassed two of the parties were, I doubt they spoke of it at all. And I also doubt that the Consort would be as popular as she is if she made a habit of disclosing information like that to people unless she had a very good reason. I don’t take her for a gossip.”

“She is not. She holds many secrets.”

“Precisely. So this diplomat says she’s being blackmailed, and somehow knows what I’m doing. I think she’s lying about something, and she definitely has her pretty blue fingers in systems she shouldn’t.”

More pieces moved around the board, and she lost track of what she was doing while watching a couple get into an argument close by. “So what did you do about it?”

“Reported her to the Council, of course. Besides, if the Alliance found out that I ordered my ship to fly out to some barely inhabited planet to fight pirates for some random diplomat, they’d be very upset. And rightly so.” She sighed again, “I may be ready to leave the military, but I would like to have my integrity intact when I do.”

“You have a very keen intuition, Ms. Carlson. If your skills at chess leave a little to be desired.“

The Shepherd smiled as the turian crowed his checkmate. “I guess I just don't have a great head for this kind of strategy.”

“My dear, these are just pieces on a board. Anyone who tells you that being proficient at chess means you're proficient at real world strategem is a liar.”

She lifted her head off of her hand and began moving the pieces back to their original places on the board, “There are some people on some extranet message boards that would be very angry to hear you say that. Another game?”

“Not today, Nora. I have some errands to run,” he answered while shaking his head. “Listen, I'm having dinner this evening with a private sector investigator, internal affairs for corporations, that sort of thing. I think you have a knack for sniffing out corruption that would make you a brilliant candidate for that sort of work. Would you like to join us?”

“Oh, that would be greatly appreciated, but I would hate to intrude. An unplanned guest is almost never as welcome as they like to believe,“ she responded with a cheeky smile and a wink.

”Nonsense! Truthfully, I already let him know that you would be joining us.“

”Quintus, you conniving, old bastard!“ The Shepherd said playfully and reached across the table to push his shoulder back.

The old man smiled, ”I saw an opportunity open up for you, my dear, and I took it. It's all very casual, I assure you. We aren't even going out, we're meeting at my apartment in four hours.”

“I will be there on time, and not a minute before, sir.”

The Shepherd walked into Quintus' apartment, following his explicit instructions to let herself in, and was immediately simmering in anger. The old man sat on his couch casually with one leg crossed over the other. It would have been a relaxed aura he was giving off, if his neck wasn't broken, head hanging graphically at an unsettling angle. And if there wasn't a smug fucking drell standing in prayer in front of his body.

”Oh, fuck me,“ she groaned as the door slid shut behind her. She punched the hololock, ensuring no one could walk in on her unplanned showdown. 

“Is that a request?” The bane of her existence asked dryly without turning to her. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and goosebumps rose on her arms. It had been three or four encounters with the man since their last, nearly deadly meeting here on the Citadel. And each time, he threw her off balance more and more. 

She took two careful steps inside, as though she were navigating an active minefield. “You. You're the 'private sector investigator'?” She asked, choosing to ignore his question (and the urge to say "yes") entirely. Anger rose hot in her chest, and flushed her cheeks.

”A deception to get close to Mr. Stratis. He is a very careful man, and very difficult to get close to,“ the very irritating, achingly beautiful man explained as he finally turned to face her. A small, smug smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Greens and blacks covered his face and head in beautiful iridescent scales, and large, black eyes watched her twitching hands, waiting for her to draw a weapon, or throw him back with biotics.

"Krios, please tell me you did not use me to get close to this asshole!" Her voice went shrill as she pointed at the worldly remains of Quintus Stratis, respected former C-Sec captain, and to some, a renowned pervert.

And not the fun kind.

Thane Krios, professional assassin, and expert thorn in her side, shrugged his shoulders, "I've been monitoring his extranet activity and messages for quite some time. Imagine my surprise when a military personnel verification request turned up with a file bearing a photograph of you. It was a simple matter of figuring out what game you were playing this time, and inserting myself as a player. A trick I learned from the master of such schemes." He bowed his head deferentially to her, like it was a compliment, and not the worst thing in the entire universe. Outplayed at her own game, by him.

He was trying to send her over the edge, and she knew it. And what was worse, it worked. Her response was an incomprehensible yell that started out as "Fuck you,” and descended into utter nonsense as her body ignited with biotic power. She ran towards him, wanting to wrap her hands around his head and watch as she cooked his brain down to a lovely cerebral fluid reduction.

Thane sent her sprawling backwards with a subtle thrust of his fist. A blue globe of light met her stomach with a force that winded her, and she fell back over Stratis' coffee table. Some rounded decorative piece dug up in between her shoulder blades, and made her cough. “Asshole.”

“Shepherd, you are sloppy when you forget yourself,” he chastised her as he drew in close. And she allowed him to.

Once he'd gotten close enough, she drove the heels of both of her boots up into his abdomen, forcing him several stumbling steps backwards. Quickly, she rolled over onto her feet again, and took a defensive position. As Thane recovered, she grabbed the globular object, a bronze replica of Palaven perhaps, and hefted it right at the drell's head.

Irritatingly, he threw up a barrier as he righted himself, and the projectile went bouncing off. It fell to the ground with a loud thunk. Suddenly, her skin prickled hot, and the extremely uncomfortable sensation of thousands of tiny needles ripping, tearing, and crawling over her flesh overwhelmed her. She could feel the thin membranes in her sinuses breaking down before a trickle of blood dribbled from her nose. 

Tit-for-tat. She concentrated past the pain blooming all over her body and threw a warp field at the assassin in return. Thane's lips curled back as he clenched his teeth. The Shepherd saw her opening and jumped towards him, landing in a crouch right under his anticipatory blow, and she swept her leg out, hooking it behind his foot and pulling.

The man's lifelong training to become a near perfect killing machine was not lost on her as he shifted his momentum and used it to drive his palm hard against her sternum. 

It felt like her lungs got forced through her ribcage and sent out of her body for just a moment, and her throat locked up around the sudden lack of oxygen. She stumbled back just enough to give him space to advance on her. She dodged around one strike, took a kick in the side, and then grabbed both of his wrists, yanking him forward.

Just as she was about to use the forward momentum to pull him stumbling past her, and hopefully to the ground, frantic fists started beating against the apartment door.

"Quintus! Quintus, are you alright? What's happening?" The two assassins stared at each other, wrists held in hands, frozen as though they'd both been enveloped by a stasis field. The panicked knocking continued, "Quintus! If you don't answer, I'm calling C-Sec!"

"Vents?" They both asked simultaneously at a whisper, looking up toward the large vent grate in the hall.

The Shepard released Thane's arms and nodded resolutely before adding, "First split off, I go right, you go left."

"Agreed," he confirmed as they both darted toward the vent. Without another word, he knelt and held out his interlaced hands for her to step into. With a boost from her sudden ally in escape, The Shepherd unlatched the vent and crawled in. 

She turned and thrust her hand out and helped pull him in, though in reality, he probably didn't need the help. Near as she could tell, the man had a ten foot vertical leap. And that was probably only a little bit of an exaggeration. As Thane pulled the grate shut behind him, he whispered, "I am surprised you did not simply leave me."

"What and let C-Sec be the ones to take you down? Keep dreaming, Krios," she replied as she began to crawl through the vent shaft. "It's going to be me who does you in, or it's going to be no one."

"If I did not know better, Shepherd, I would say that you're possessive of me, " he said smugly from somewhere behind her. His voice vibrated the thin metal sheeting beneath her fingertips, adding even more tactile sensations to the absolutely filthy ways her body already responded to it.

"Of having the great pleasure of ending your life? Absolutely."

Horrible, awful, beautiful, delicious, rumbling laughter was his only response. Why was it so easy for him to slither into her head and turn anger to something else? 

"Fuck you, Krios."

He was in her head still. They split off like planned without another word. It had been hours and somehow he was still in her head. 

The Shepherd found herself in a club in the lower wards. It was the kind of club with too dark lighting, and probably a list of health and safety code violations light-years long. And where absolutely everyone was wearing black leather and vinyl adorned with a dizzying array of metal chains, spikes, rings and anything that added a touch of risk of harm if you got too close. It was the kind of place where at any given moment there was someone in the bathroom smoking, fighting or fucking. Or some confusing (satisfying) combination of all three.

She could feel the tacky residue of someone else's black lipstick smeared across her lips, she couldn't even remember whose lips put it there, and the remnants of cheap eyeliner and mascara, melting from the heat of her body as she danced, rehardening in the creases of her eyes. She could have been there for minutes or hours, it was impossible to tell. She was lost in the music. The heavy, grungy distortion of the guitars scraped inside her mind, drowning out her conflicting, inconvenient thoughts. And the bass?

Oh, the bass. 

It thundered in her chest, felt like it changed the rhythm of her heart. It punched over her skin like an electric shock, rattled her teeth, and settled heavy in her spine. It enveloped her in a blanket of sound that she felt more than heard. And it blessedly robbed her of the memory of the way his voice overtook her senses, raised the hair on her arms, made her shiver. 

Made her yearn. Lust, she could deal with, but actual wanting? A need for someone to actually know her? That was dangerous.

The flashing strobes that filled her vision with stutter-stop dancers, and the oppressive, humid warmth of strange bodies against her were almost enough to make her forget that ache that was in her chest. 

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms over the shoulders of the stranger pressed against her, and allowed herself to get pulled into the undertow of the slow, driving waves. Soon she found herself sandwiched in between two people, the heat of the space, and her own body, growing just shy of unbearable.

It was perfect. 

She didn't even care when arms wrapped around her from behind filling the miniscule space between bodies, and familiar, fused digits roamed over the bare skin of her stomach, deliciously cool compared to the blinding heat of her sweat drenched body. Or when soft, smooth lips pressed gently against her neck, murmuring lurid promises against her pulse that she couldn't hear, but God, could she feel. And suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to let him fulfill them.

It was easy to pretend they weren't who they were under the steaming water of a hotel shower, the lathered bar of soap long forgotten next to the drain, and her back pressed against cool tiles, and the tingling, citrusy taste of his tongue in her mouth. 

It was easy to forget the way they destroyed each other with the way she floated, nerves alive and hungry for every reverent touch. He whispered prayers against her skin as he explored her, treating her body as his temple. As though she were something worthy of devotion.

It was hard to feel wicked surrounded by satin sheets with someone so beautiful bringing her higher and higher with every movement. A glittering mosaic of emeralds and onyx breathed the only name he knew to be hers in her ear, and she fell into the obsidian abyss of his eyes with a soft whimper, holding onto him as though he were the only thing anchoring her soul to her body. A body that was writhing and overwhelmed by pleasure, and still her voice returned to beg, "Yes, Thane. God, please, more."

God wasn't listening, if he existed at all.

But the assassin, he was always willing to oblige her whispering pleas. Every brush of lips against her fevered skin, every answering moan rumbling against her chest, every scraping bite at her throat, and every careful graze of talons on whatever part of her he touched overwhelmed her senses and sent her plummeting over the edge again, dizzied and breathless, and chanting his name like an ancient hymn.

It got harder to imagine in the afterglow. As they lay in each other's arms, tracing each other's scars. He always asked about hers, and she always told outrageous lies about them, even the ones from him. Lies like, "Oh that one? I got drunk and challenged a pyjack to a fight! His handler taped glass to his silly little paws." Or "Oh, you know me, so clumsy. I was walking on Omega and tripped in a pothole, landed right on the bent edge of an old shop sign." He always told her the same stories about his, the truth, near as she could reckon.

Tonight, he gently scratched her scalp through her short, Alliance-regulation bob as she ran her fingers over the soft, rosy ridges on the side of his chest. Their charade was almost over, it wasn't safe for either one of them to drop their guard enough to fall asleep. "What is that?" He asked, suddenly breaking the lull that had fallen over their little game of scars.

"Hmm?" She mumbled without looking up, still sluggish and terribly entranced by the sensations playing out beneath her fingertips.

"The song you are humming," he clarified, pressing his lips to her hair.

Her cheeks grew unbearably warm, and almost certainly terribly red. "Was I humming? Doesn't sound like me." 

He responded with a low chuckle, "Do not think you can lie your way out of this one, little darling. I can feel you humming."

She was quiet for precious seconds before her mouth opened, and the truth fell out without her say-so, "It's a lullaby. My mother taught it to me. It's about the only thing I remember of her."

"It must be very distressing to remember so little of her." Of course, the drell would think that.

"It can be. But it's for the best. It's better that I can't imagine her. It makes what I do easier without the specter of parental disapproval hanging over my head," she answered, lying again. She grew quiet before her humming returned, and before she knew it, her mouth was opening again. Whispered lyrics came out, tight in her throat, "The other night dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamt I held you in my arms. When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken. So I hung my head, and I cried."

I have no one.

She felt hot tears gathering along the edges of her eyes.

"I should go," she said suddenly.

And just like that, the charade collapsed.

He was in her head in ways she couldn't get a grip on. It went so much further than their psychosexual rivalry. It had been months since Quintus, and she felt like she was genuinely losing her mind now.

Who could she tell, other than her contacts and other assassins, what she did for a living? And if she could keep up a double life long enough to form a lasting friendship, much less any sort of meaningful romantic entanglement, whose life would she put in danger by doing so?

The Shepherd was on Nos Astra for a pretty simple job, really. During the research and preparation phase of the venture, she had a string of good to disappointing flings and one night stands. The worst was actually the time she tried staying the night and seeing the same person more than once. And not because the sex was bad.

She made it three separate overnights before that came to a horrible, upsetting end. For her. The girl was probably alright, if a little disappointed. They'd only known each other for a total of two weeks.

The Shepherd was laying on the girl's bed, Lirae, or maybe Lorae, something adorable like that, staring off into space. Her thoughts were light-years away, going over her plans, running through mental checklists for setting up her new identity, and running the risk analysis on how boned she would be if she got discovered and had to engage in a fight with a former asari commando. And she definitely was not thinking about him. And she definitely wasn't thinking about him in a way that didn't have anything to do with murdering him. 

"Shepherd?"

Her heart skipped a beat and her eyes flew open. Oh, were her eyes closed? She looked with furrowed brows down at the very pretty blue face looking up at her from between her legs. Oh, were they having sex? She forgot. "What did you just call me?"

The woman cocked her head and crawled up next to The Shepherd, apparently the endeavor was a lost cause. "Your name. Shirley, right? Are you okay? You looked like you were in pain."

She let her head fall back into the pillow and covered her face with her hand with an exhausted groan. "Sorry, yes, I'm fine. Just very distracted, work has been a lot lately." She was very suddenly remembering why she only ever went to bars and clubs during the planning phase. She was too steeped in it to be able to do much of anything else.

And why had she chosen a name that had a "sh" sound? Rookie mistake.

Lirae snapped her fingers and then motioned for The Shepherd to roll over onto her stomach. And she did, exposing the scarred expanse of her back to far too much scrutiny. The lithe young woman knelt over her and started massaging the Shepherd's shoulders. "Tell me about it?"

"Not much I can say about it. You know how ironclad Illium N.D.A.s are." Bless Illium contract law, it was always the easiest cover. "Let's just say my boss has me spinning a lot of plates, and keeping them all in the air has been difficult."

The woman currently doing positively sinful things to the muscles that made up The Shepherd's upper back giggled, "What does that even mean?"

"It's a complicated balancing act, I mean."

Lorae hummed her understanding as she continued to reduce The Shepherd to a puddle with masterful hands. Her finger traced a jagged scar just under the Shepherd's shoulder blade. "This looks painful, what happened?"

The Shepherd cocked her head to the side, "Back in my freelancer days, I went head to head with the largest vorcha I've ever seen. He carried an improvised knife made out of the broken remnants of a barstool and nails that he called Gut Ripper," she lied, saying the name of the imaginary weapon in the characteristic hissing growl associated with the spiky aliens.

The asari gasped, "That sounds awful!"

Oh, she believed her? That was no good. Lirae was too sweet, too naive. And fuck, too good at whatever it was she was currently doing to the Shepherd's spine. Magic maybe.

This wasn't going to work. Guilt wormed its way into her head. And the lies felt isolating, and cruel. This girl would never know who she was, and that was for the best. 

But it also kind of sucked.

Later that night, when Lorae was firmly asleep, The Shepherd slipped out. She actually left a note. There was a first time for everything.

L.

I'm sorry. You don't deserve to get tangled up with me. My name isn't even Shirley. Keep being sweet, someone else will come along who actually deserves it.

P.S. - Go into massage therapy immediately. You'll make a killing. 

"I'm going to the restroom, I'll be right back," the very handsome man sitting next to her at the bar winked before disappearing into throngs of over-dressed party goers. 

The Shepherd fiddled with the heavy, sapphire earrings hanging from her ears as her eyes darted around her. All around her people were dressed to the nines, shimmering fabrics draped on arms, false laughter from painted lips, and expensive drinks in every hand. There was even a dance floor, where they played classical dances from many species and cultures. Bright lights dazzled across glittering jewelry, and everything just oozed excess.

She was no stranger to these sorts of high-society Presidium parties. Rich people hired her to kill each other at these sorts of events all the time. One time, she had three targets in one party, and managed to get them all without raising any alarms until she was long gone. But it was different when she was an actual guest. There wasn't a target, there wasn't a job. She was just supposed to relax and enjoy a night of luxury in her expensive, rented, ocean blue, chiffon dress.

Right, relax. 

It felt like a trap.

Too much time passed, and she assumed that her date had abandoned her for someone who was in the mood for pretending to be interested in following him back to his hotel room. She tapped the bar top with manicured nails until she made eye contact with the turian bartender who took the hint and approached.

"What can I get for you?"

The Shepherd cocked her eyebrow and planted her heels over the bottom rung of the barstool, standing to lean forward on the counter and scope out the plentiful offerings of top shelf liquor. "I want a lot of that vodka," she pointed at a bottle of clear liquid behind the turian. "And I want you to mix it in a big glass of cranberry and pineapple juice. I'm talking about the kind of glass I need two hands for, krogan size at minimum. I want it to be sweet, and I want it to wreck me."

The bartender raised an amused brow plate before turning to grab the bottle of vodka from the shelf, "Not used to these kinds of parties, I take it?"

She sat back down on her stool, straightening the lines of her dress and messing with the heavy necklace around her throat. "Plenty used to them, but I still manage to feel out of place. This isn't my world, people just like how I look in it."

"Why come if you don't enjoy it?"

Because I'm usually working. 

"I always think, 'This will be the time I enjoy it.' The only thing I enjoy about these is how drunk you can get on the alcohol they serve here."

He slid a comically large brandy glass filled with red-orange liquid over to her. He even put a straw and a tiny little umbrella in it with a mischievous wink. "You humans have a saying, 'The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result'," He advised sagely before turning away from her to go attend to some demanding heiress pouting because her champagne wasn't bubbly enough.

Shepherd sat sipping on her drink and trying to read liquor labels from her seat for several minutes. The vodka settled in her stomach, pleasantly warm, while the cranberry-pineapple medley masked the awful taste of the liquor.

"What is the old human saying? What is a girl like you doing in a bar like this?" That velvety baritone slithered up next to her, bringing a strange sense of comfort and relief. She'd officially lost her mind to admit that was the case. 

She snorted, and spit her drink back in her glass. A wide grin cracked across her lips. She grabbed a cocktail napkin and delicately dabbed dribbles of juice from her lips and chin. "Is that the best pickup line you have, Krios? No poetic metaphors for pussy-eating, or promises of boundless pleasures that somehow border on religious heresy?"

He took the seat next to her and leaned in close, brushing tendrils of her dark hair behind her ear as he whispered, "I can promise that you will be praying to me while I take my communion between your thighs."

There went the hair on her neck and arms again, betraying his effect on her. And the tops of her ears felt hot. "Filthy, wicked, devil of a man," she sniped as she took another sip of her drink. She set it down carefully on her left side, far away from Thane's clever, quick hands. "Which of these lovely party goers is your target tonight?" She asked as she spun on her seat to face him.

He was wearing a suit that shimmered as he moved in the light, like he was wearing cloth made out of the fabric of space itself. It was just like him to wear black nearly head to toe at an event like this. What did he need ornamentation for when his skin glittered like starlight?

"He is already quite dead," he responded. "And your target?"

The Shepherd picked up her glass again and took a noisy sip from the straw before answering, "No one. I'm a real, honest guest tonight." She searched the room for any sign of her erstwhile companion, and found none. "I had a date, but I think he may have thought I was an escort until I told him I was going straight home after this. He ditched me to "go to the bathroom" almost half an hour ago now."

"Tall, human man? Dark, curly hair and startling eyes the color of emeralds in the sunlight?"

She coughed, abandoning the straw and downing the rest of her drink in one obscene gulp. "I wouldn't have put it quite so poetically, but that is-was him." She shook her head, "That's a new one. You've never killed one of my dates before."

Thane hummed thoughtfully, "If it is any consolation, he was a vile man. And you were correct, he did not go to the bathroom."

The Shepherd shrugged her shoulders, "I am entirely unbothered. I didn't even know him really, not sure I could tell you his name."

"Now, I know you're just saying this to vex me. I do not believe that human memory is quite so fallible."

She smiled and winked while reaching for his hands, "What does it matter? Not like I was ever going to see him again anyways. Now, since you killed my companion, and you've already propositioned me, you're my date now, and I want to dance."

He laughed as he allowed her to pull him to the dance floor. Her cheeks were warm, and her muscles pleasantly loose. His hand fell to her low back as they took their place among the small collection of dancers stumbling over the steps of dances that fell out of fashion centuries ago. "You have taken great pains to hide your weapons beneath that dress," Thane remarked quietly in her ear. 

The Shepherd laughed, shaking her head as she did. "Already told you, I'm not working tonight. I didn't bring any. No blades, no poisons, civilian omni-tool and … you don't believe me." The realization curdled in her stomach. Because why would he believe her? She wouldn't believe her. "Nevermind. I don't need weapons or poisons to kill someone anyways. You're not the only one here who can lodge a fountain pen right through the death center of a turian's brain, or find a neck to snap on an elcor."

"I think I would like to see you snap an elcor's neck. Your arms are so slender, and you are so small. I think you would need to employ the use of a complex system of ropes and pulleys to accomplish this," he deadpanned.

"You calling me short, Krios?" The threat in her tone was entirely ruined by the way she pressed herself in close to him and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Hm, I am indeed," he answered with a smile as he led her in circles around the floor.

After several minutes, The Shepherd looked up, "Let's get out of here. I actually hate parties like this. What do you say we ruin this dress together?"

She felt the chill of the metal before she felt the searing agony of the cut. The Shepherd clutched his arms, her fingernails digging deep into his skin. She looked up at him, stunned, disbelieving … terrified. It was deep, so very deep, she couldn't speak. She felt blood, warm and thick spilling down to her chest. "Why?" She tried to ask, but no sound came out.

"We can't keep doing this. This is the last time," he whispered to her, like he was wishing her a tender good night. Not sending her to his precious oceans, if she was lucky. Hell, if she was not. He caressed her cheek like he actually cared about her.

Thoughts came juttering through her venom adled mind all at once and they crashed through in torrents.

I didn't tell any lies tonight.

I'm going to die.

I'm so scared.

He didn't believe that I wasn't going to try.

I have no one.

I don't want to die.

I'm going to fucking die.

I forgot the rules.

She didn't want to die.

[assassinscreedclub1]

Le differenze...

[yall-hate-kids-tourney]

Loser Round 4: Damian Wayne (DC) vs. Jason Todd (DC)

A rematch? It's so funny how the bracket turned out this way.

Propaganda under the cut.

Damian Wayne (9-14):

Damian is a kid who was raised as an assassin and because of that when he first appears he has some really messed up ideas of how to prove himself to his father by being aggressive with the criminals they capture and attacking his brother. Because of this people act like he is the most evil character ever and refuse to give him any grace. They make him out to be this awful irredeemable monster who just wants to kill his brother and hurt people. If the fandom isn’t making his out to be The Worst(tm) then they are ignoring his existence all-together. He is a really interesting character who has done some not so great things but he’s grown and learned a lot through various character arcs (as much of an arc as a comic book character can have) and he deserves to be acknowledged for himself and not just as a villain so that people can woobify his brother.

——

HES JUST A LITTLE BABY GUY!!!!! Little baby man raised as an assassin and learning how to be a real person <3. But because he was kind of a dick and also a little stabby early-on, especially to the fandom's main "so sad uwu depressed baby" blorbo (and also he's not white), people treat him like he's satan incarnate

Jason Todd (~12):

Most of the Tumblr fandom likes this guy but if you step outside this website then wham so many people say he got what he deserved as a kid and Batman can't be cool if he's a dad so it's important for Batman to trash-talk his dead child constantly so we can all agree what a bad idea it was. Also wanna highlight that a lot of the records we have from fans at the time were clear they disliked Robin for BEING a child. Like a lot of the little dude characters in this tournament are treated too harshly for making an ugly choice and the fans aren't being understanding or sympathetic that the choice is made by a child character who is immature and not developed and strong enough to make a good choice and stuff. But THIS little dude was specifically hated FOR being a child. People wanted tough loner guy Batman not Batdad and his little buddy. The first Robin would drive back from college and guest star sometimes and be advertised as the Teen Wonder and people were like yeah okay but then Batman actually starts being a single parent for a child with needs and people were like UGH not the BOY Wonder. Today pretty much everywhere you see Batman fans saying Batman is better solo, no kid, it's not realistic to have a kid, a kid shouldn't be in the movies blah. Even if the comics they always find a way to send away the new kid so that Batman never has to parent. So all the Robins are being excluded from the narrative but I think this one is THE symbol of Batman fans hating a child character just for being a child.

-

Robin, Jason Todd, THE hated child character. In the 1980s, Batman comics had become increasingly dark and gritty. According to editor O'Neil himself, the courted audience wasn't kids but 19-40 year old men with disposable income. Batman's child sidekick, Robin, was offensively campy and childish. Fans called him wimpy, annoying, dumb, bratty, etc. Also people complained that Batman acting like an affectionate dad was unmanly and gay. Robin acts violent and emotional and people are like "ew he's so childish and emotional"—and then Batman literally acts just as murderously and emotionally within literally the same exact story and people are like "wow he's so dark and tortured". So in 1988 (after brutalizing Batgirl to get rid of her for being too bright and nice and kid-friendly), DC held a paid poll for fans to vote for Robin to live or die. O'Neil claims he heard a fan (a grown man with a dayjob as a lawyer) programmed a phone to spam kill votes. One fanguy claimed that he sold his Mercedes to buy kill votes (probably an exaggeration but still). By less than 1% margin, the vote decided to kill Robin in a spectacularly violent way. Anyway the 1989 Batman movie brought in a huge wave of new child comicbook fans who liked the new Robin (a very cool teenage high school Robin with a driver's license and a girlfriend), and DC started a separate Robin-less Batman series called Legends of the Dark Knight to make the anti-Robin writers and fans happy. But to this day, many fans agree it was a good idea to kill off the other Robin so that his foolish death reminds other characters to never be childish and stupid again. Bonus: the current Robin (usually a traumatized 10-year-old) has also been facing some pretty loud hatred for over 15 years.

[shuttershocky]

hey shutters!

this one is quite a lot to ask so forgive me in advance, but could you help me understand the difference between the guard archetypes?

I understand what aoe, arts fighter, ranged and duelist could be useful for, but brawler, crusher, dualstrike, enmity, liberator, reaper and instructor confuse me quite a bit, I can't figure out what their uses would be

First off, better to use the archetype names in-game instead of the fan names Gamepress insists on using for some reason, since Duelists in game are a Defender archetype, while Gamepress uses them to refer to Dreadnoughts. This will help you get less confused once you start playing the other game modes with interactions for specific archetypes.

Now I will explain each in the order that you gave (but with the correct in-game names for "Brawler", "Dualstrike", and "Enmity")

Fighter - Block-1, low damage, punch very fast. These guys are usually relegated to being pseudo-vanguards cleaning up trash enemies whenever vanguards are banned, because their DP cost is the smallest, though the 6 stars have more than a few extra features. Mountain especially, is an AFK laneholding god since he can become Block-2 and gains incredibly high HP regen.

Crusher - I'm going to be real with you, these guys were a mistake. The highest Max HP and ATK stats in the game don't make up for a very slow ATK interval and 0 DEF. They can act as meatshields for your other operators vs Arts and True damage because their max HP is so high, but otherwise don't bother with them. Unless you love them (like I do) then you can max them out, use them in battle, win anyway, and feel like a big brain.

Swordmaster - Swordmasters are funny because their trait isn't a real part of their identity whatsoever. They have low ATK compared to other guards, but hit twice per attack. This doesn't actually matter (because even with skills that charge per attack, they only charge 1 SP with both strikes). What they ARE known for, is being the technical Guard class with a wide variety of powerful nuking skills and weird talents while also tending to have anti-air capabilities. Each Swordmaster is very different in usage. Bibeak has a spammable stun, Tachanka uses a gun instead of a sword to hit from long range with a normal attack, Cutter is a cheap 4 star who either throws throwing knives or does an AOE slice around her (both skills can hit flying units), etc. They shine best in alternate game modes like IS where they tend to have hilarious interactions with the powerups there, but are able to hold their own in the normal game mode.

Musha - Musha can't be healed (not exactly true but this is for another time), but heal themselves with every attack and rely on their huge Max HP, big ATK stats, and talents that increase their ASPD the lower their health is to survive. Since they can't be healed anyway, there's no point keeping them near your team, so Musha are usually used to "plug" lanes by putting them right in front of the enemy gates and made to fend for themselves. Since they're only Block-1 they won't deal with hordes of trash so well, but if you learn which red gate is spawning the dangerous enemies that don't come in groups, a Musha strong enough to win a 1v1 with them can free up a whole defensive formation by themselves. Alternatively, their big stats and increasing ASPD also make them good drop-in assassins, especially Utage, whose S2 makes her start any deployment at half HP but in turn deals arts damage on attacks.

Liberator - They don't attack, have terrible ATK stats, and are block 0, but in exchange they slowly charge up their ATK stat for every second they aren't using a skill until they get +200% ATK after 40 seconds. When they DO use their skill and finally attack, they deal monstrous AOE damage and gain a wider range than most other Guards. Mlynar is a Liberator who is infamously regarded as one of (if not the) strongest operators in the game, thanks to his S3 having huge range and even more gigantic damage that instantly crumples anything lower than 3000 DEF. Not attacking, not blocking, and waiting to fully charge their ATK may seem inconvenient, but the extreme damage they deal can hard carry a squad through even very difficult stages.

Reaper - Reapers have a unique horizontal attack range that lets them do a sweeping AOE attack. They can't be healed like Mushas but don't have the giant stat heft that Mushas do, but they do have Block-2 and heal for every 2 units they hit (though they can hit way more than 2 enemies with their attack). They are tailor made for dealing with hordes meant to overwhelm you with sheer numbers, but thanks to their horizontal attack range I've found you can also put them into a melee tile out of the way of enemy paths. This can perfectly align enemy pathing with their horizontal attack range to get free damage on whole groups of enemies at once. You can also defend a big lane made up of two lanes by putting two Reapers side by side so their attacks overlap, which deals with most hordes well enough.

Instructor - Instructors have long-ranged attacks with their whips which lets them hide behind other, stronger units, but their real purpose is usually to provide said stronger units with support buffs, their own attacks only meant to be supplementary damage. I say usually, because the strongest Instructor, Pallas, is used as a primary DPS in alternate game modes like IS instead of being a buffer. This archetype is rather unpopular because most people would rather put a second DPS instead of a support, but they do have their uses now and then in funny meme strats involving gigabuffing one unit.

[epickiya722]

Every time I see someone say they don't find Midoriya interesting, a piece of me just fades away. I know he doesn't look it, but he's batshit crazy. He is a damn wild card.

EVEN BEFORE OBTAINING OFA.

All Might decided to give OFA after seeing this kid do something crazy (running ahead to save Bakugou from the Sludge Villain... defenseless).

After that, for training, what does Midoriya do?

CLEAN A BEACH!! Keep in mind, he is just a scrawny kid. And then one morning, he just decides "I'm about to do something wild".

He climbs up a pile of trash, and just screams into oblivion with a war cry, shirtless just as the sun is rising.

That's just the beginning!

Kid has punched a robot the size of a building, attempts to fight an obviously dangerous villain with broken bones.

Later during the Sports Festival, he manages to make a new friend with Icy-Hot Princey boy who holds a grudge (I mean rightfully so, but this ain't about him) by breaking his bones and screaming at him and could have got himself killed in doing so. Oh wait! Rewind! Before that, Midoriya goes through an obstacle course race without using his quirk and just being calculating.

AND GETS FIRST PLACE before kids with quirks that can boost their speed!!

After that arc, he faces a whole serial killer!! He gets told not to run off and guess what? He does it anyways!

You know what, let me just list things he is and has done the best way I can because when I say this kid is not what he seems, he is not what he seems.

Doesn't listen, "I do what I want because it's right even though I'll get yelled at for it". Okay, this kid is impulsive sometimes.

Puts up with Bakugou and calls this explosive kid "Kacchan". Who in the hell gives that boom-boom gremlin a cutesy nickname and not once get told to stop using it? Midoriya damn Izuku, that's who.

Wears t-shirts that says other pieces of clothing like "blouse" and "tank top". WHERE DID HE GET THEM?!

Can mimic All Might's face and voice!

Has to be told to keep his emotions in check because they affect OFA, his strongest emotion being anger. And when he's angry, just beg for mercy. Just get on your knees and hope he doesn't break your face or something and embarrasses you. (Muscular got it twice as he deserves!)

Faced an ASSASSIN.

Somehow managed to still move like it's nothing after being shocked by KAMINARI and after that, headbutting through Todoroki's ice wall (by accident). (Class 1A VS Deku fight)

Midoriya is intelligent, he's observant. He's able to work how the function of someone's quirk just by watching. He was able to figure out how Stain's quirk worked and how he's using it. Stain, the Hero Killer.

On that note, he uses his knowledge to incorporate that in his own moves and how he can work with OFA. Midoriya is creative.

Even though he knows the risks, he sometimes pushes his body to the limit and breaks his bones and sometimes still wants to fight despite his body being damaged at that time.

Tried to talk down Dabi the same way as he did with Todoroki and honestly, he deserves some credit for that. It didn't worked, but he tried talking to DABI. Dabi is something else.

There's probably more I missed, but I'm just saying Midoriya Izuku is just more than that sweet round freckled face. And you wouldn't think with that face he would have the body he does. He used to be a scrawny kid. But now? He is a pint-sized powerhouse!

Do not take him lightly. He needs to come with a warning label!

Look, if he's boring to you, fine. I don't care. Didn't write this post to convince you.

I wrote this post to express just how I feel about him.

I know some people are put off by him because "he's the protagonist, he gets a lot of the spotlight".

But that's not stopping me. I mean, Miruko is my number one tied with Midoriya and she shares a lot less focus than he does! To me, a character doesn't have to be minor or a major one to be liked. I look past that role and see their other qualities and in the case of Midoriya, I like his qualities enough for him to be an interesting character to me.

Which is rare for me because my favorites often be the minor characters, characters that don't get as much screen time and aren't as popular. Even for BNHA! A lot of my favorites are characters that haven't spoken in the manga since forever!

(For goodness' sake, I know I'll sound salty for this and I do adore the other characters! The Todoroki's got a whole arc and even an origin to how their whole mess started dating back to when Enji and Rei met! And we still don't know Midoriya’s dad whereabouts! WE KNOW HAWKS' BACKSTORY!! AND WE STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT HISASHI LOOKS LIKE!! Midoriya barely has had focus for how many chapters this whole ongoing war arc now? Just saying, even though there's a lot of characters, let's not act as if Midoriya gets the spotlight all the time.)

That's just me now.

(Don't even reblog and say something like "Okay, I see your point, OP, but I still think he's boring." Or argue why he's boring to you. Don't even come into my inbox with all that. Again, I do not care.)

[jessepinwheel]

What is the end of para? Or like how do you see the galaxy changing after the Empire collapses? Multiple dif regimes across the galaxy? What's Alderaan up to? Or Naboo since Padme is trusted enough to be a handler for a Mando-Jedi. Also love that Maul got the chance to be a Jedi <3

well, fundamentally the number of mandalorians is extremely overwhelmed by the number of worlds they've taken, and their main way of enforcing their rule was to send suppression forces when worlds were starting to do things they didn't like or weren't paying their tithes. without an efficient surveillance system, or with multiple worlds rebelling at once, they're really easily overwhelmed by sheer numbers

which is to say, after the coup the mandalorians communications systems are completely trashed, almost all of their leaders have been assassinated, their emperor is dead, and the darksaber has been destroyed. there's a huge power vacuum and a bunch of mandalorian clans break out into fighting for the throne. the mandalorian empire has also historically instituted limits on ship production and highly policed hyperlane traffic to stop people from occupied planets from leaving, which is really biting them in the ass and ends up stranding a lot of mandalorians due to not having a ride out or a way to call for one. basically this ends with a lot of fighting over resources because mandalore receives most of its food and other essential resources from tithes, which colonized worlds are no longer supplying. so they're basically killing each other and also starving to death because a society that's all warriors is, uh, not sustainable

a lot of worlds claimed by mandalore are able to regain full independence, including alderaan. bail and breha end up accepting a lot of refugees from mandalorian worlds, many of whom are non-mandalorians who were living in service to mandalorian clans and others who are mandalorians who agree to disarm. a little keldabe community ends up forming on alderaan, which is fine as long as none of the mandalorian refugees, y'know, kill people

naboo, which is also a highly established mandalorian world, is not doing great for similar reasons to mandalore itself, though it does have the benefit of being more self-sufficient with regards to food. it probably ends up as one of a handful of sanctuary worlds for empire mandalorians after the empire broke apart. for padme specifically, she presumably tries to launch an attack on a previously occupied world and ends up being arrested along with many other belligerent mandalorians who refuse to give up on the empire. she refuses to disarm and take the community service way out, sticking to her principles and the mandalorian empire

yeah, dathomir is outside the reach of the mandalorian empire, which is how maul and his brothers ended up with the jedi. (the nightsisters give force sensitive children every so often to the mandalorian empire effectively as a tithe to leave the rest of the planet alone, which is how ventress ended up there.) maul mostly stays in dagobah because his legs were injured in his fight vs qui-gon, and he runs the jedi's amateur theatre troupe (which he inherited from mace) as well as works with jocasta nu with archival work. he and obi-wan have pretty much had a weird rivalry all their lives, and maul was absolutely devastated when obi-wan got captured (and presumably killed).

ask me questions about parasitic extraction, the role reversal mandalorian empire au that I have

[genericpuff]

So if you had to order them whats the biggest to smallest let downs of lo? What has potential vs just being a crap plot point?

I'm REALLY bad at ordering things from biggest to smallest/worst to best/etc. so bear with me, but my personal list from smallest letdown to biggest letdown would definitely be:

5. Hera and Hades' affair. No 'potential' here, RS just shouldn't have done it. It casts way too many fucked up implications in Hera's characterization, from how she calls Minthe "nymph trash" to how she forces her own dreams and preferences on Persephone. She's always got an opinion about Hades' relationships, which would have been fine if we consider the fact she's the Goddess of Marriage and Hades is the only unmarried King, but now that we know they were in an affair for hundreds of years, it makes her opinions look even more mean-spirited.

4. The actual romance. There's no 'romance' in LO, it's just fluffy vignettes that Rachel thinks quantifies an entire plot but the reality is, Hades and Persephone are just not interesting characters and fluff doesn't make a story. So when they're together, it makes for a very uninteresting romance, as well. At least S1 had some amount of romantic/sexual tension, there is none of that in S2 onwards because it's just Hades and Persephone playing house but never bothering to actually get to know each other. Now that they're rushing into marriage it's just... blech. I couldn't be more disinterested in the marriage of a couple that Rachel's been writing about for five fucking years. I feel nothing towards them and that's the worst crime a romance can commit because it breaks my number one rule of storytelling - don't be fucking boring.

3. The Assassination of Demeter. The fact Rachel couldn't give an ounce of respect to the original myth that her bestselling series is based on is so goddamn disgusting, honestly. It goes to show how little integrity Rachel has, that she'll appropriate and gentrify another culture's religion and myths for her own personal monetary gain. Same goes for Webtoons as a whole. She writes this Greek myth comic as if she's ashamed to be associated with it, she wants all the fame and money without any of the responsibility or discipline. Demeter deserves better.

2. The Kronos fight. Lost potential. Not only did we not need some big MCU fight between Persephone and Kronos (this isn't an action comic) but even if we did have to have one for some reason, it couldn't have been, y'know... better? Why was it treated as a big joke? Why didn't Kronos use his powers? Why did it come out of nowhere and get resolved in a single episode? Why was the extent of his attempts to harm Persephone so nerfed? Answer: because Rachel doesn't know how to write action and she didn't want her precious self-insert to get an owie. Take this as a heads up/warning: I torture my characters. So I hope you're ready for the Rekindled versions of these characters to get HURT. 1.Persephone's act of wrath. So much lost potential here to characterize Persephone in a way that could have been more empowering or otherwise interesting. This is honestly the biggest thing I'm gonna be trying to revitalize in Rekindled and, full brag, I think I'm the perfect person for this task because I've been spending well over 10 years writing characters like this.

[picturejasper20]

Cartoon characters you think had the biggest fall off in terms of writing?

Well, can think of a few examples

Vlad Masters from Danny Phantom

This one is quite obvious: He was a pretty interesting villain with unique motivations in the first two seasons and had a specific relationship with Danny that moved his character arc forward. He was a really good foil for Danny in the way their morals clashed.

Then Season 3 comes and sends most of that characterization to the trash, leaving a superficial version of him. He acts more as a generic villain, his motivations seem to change every episode he shows up. He is introduced as main antagonist in the season and barely does anything, with D-Stabilized being the closest you get to that, etc.

I would include Valerie Gray in the spot as well, but honestly i feel like she was more mistreated than her writing ¨fell off¨. She still acts like her usual self in D-Stabilized and it is probably her best episode along with Flirting With Disaster.

2- Marco Diaz from Star vs The Forces of Evil

Marco is a character that was having some pretty solid development in the first two seasons. He even forgave and befriended Star ex-boyfriend who only saw him as a rival. He learned to overcome his own insecurities and date a girl he really liked since he was like 10.

...And around Season 3 he like... started to flirt or date with half of the teenager girl cast. He almost started to gain a harem for all the girls that were into him. Not to mention that he kissed Star when she was dating Tom... after he spent a lot of time trying to be in good terms with him and telling him that he wasn't a thing with Star. That's not to say Star didn't mess it up big but at least she was improving in other areas like helping the monsters.

The writers took a character that was overall likable and turned him into harem dude. It was like they didn't know what to do with him after Season 2 and just matched him with every girl they could think off.

3-Mordecai from Regular Show

This case is well known and self explanatory. He was in general a good character in the first seasons. Then he got tangled in all this romance between Margaret and CJ, he messed it up so badly that CJ never spoke to him again and she didn't appear in the series later on.

The irony is that while Mordecai was getting worse, Rigby was improving in some ways by taking classes and finally graduating from school. He grows into someone more mature and responsible.

And this drama romance in the end didn't seem to have importance later on since Mordecai didn't end up with Margaret, instead he ends up with a bat girl he meets in the time skip montage.

4-Morty Smith from Rick and Morty

This is a bit weird because it isn't that his character got ruined but it feels like in some ways he has regressed to the way he was on Season 1 and Season 2.

I feel like the main issues that many have pointed out is that Rick is allowed to get better, while Morty can't. He can't process his own trauma and the way he is treated by his own family (yes, it isn't only Rick the problem). So he is stuck going back and forth with his evolution as character.

My theory is that, because the show has this thing of trying to keep the status quo, changing Morty too much would mean that the writers have to change his dynamic with Rick and... that would mean the show changing its status quo as well.

5-Charmcaster from the original Ben 10 series

I don't recall that much about her but i do remember she was someone who practiced dark magic and was mistreated by her uncle in the original show. Then in the series that followed she became someone a lot worse?? Like she started killing a lot of people for some reason. It was super weird.

6- Nine from Sonic Prime

I wouldn't call it character assassination. However, he feels like he becomes a very different character from who he was in Season 1 and Season 2.

In Season 1 and 2 he was someone who was looking out for himself. He didn't want to cause harm on purpose and just wished to live in a place he could be safe. He is just a kid who hasn't had the best life and wants someone that can be his friend.

Then in Season 3 he starts putting people in danger intentionally? He actually attacks people and threatens others. There isn't exactly a proper build up to this character change. It just happens.

It doesn't help that he doesn't have that many moments he seems to regret his actions. He just keeps going and going. So when his heel turn comes it feels... cheap, again because there wasn't enough build up to that.

I would include Chloe from Miraculous Ladybug but i haven't watched that series so..

These are the ones that come to my mind at the moment. Maybe there are others that i'm not able to recall at the moment.

[darkmaga-retard]

QUESTION: What do you think about the Democratic Convention?

DS

ANSWER: It was just a hate fest. They said Trump’s name 329 times. There was nothing about the future that embraced everyone. It is always just our way or no way. I think the song Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) will be the epitaph of our political division.

This is the Neocons in control of the Democrats. Harris never won a single delegate in the primary against Biden. The Democrats shut down any primary, and the people, for the FIRST TIME in history, had no right to vote for their candidate. The media is just propaganda, and this whole thing will only prove our computer’s forecast to be correct – 2024 may be the last election we ever have. They have completely trashed our rule of law. Even RFK has recognized this as the Neocons, in full control of the Biden White House, have weaponized the legal system to the point all I hear from overseas is how the United States is collapsing.

The reason RFK joined Trump is because they are BOTH anti-war and BOTH are fully aware of the agenda of the Neocons. I fear that the only way they can defeat our computer is to assassinate Trump still, or they must start World War III before he takes the White House. We are living in the end days of the United States.

[bl-bracket]

Poorest Little Meow Meow - Loser's Bracket Round 2: Xue Yang (The Untamed) vs Zhou Zishu (Word of Honor)

[Submitted Reasons Under Cut]

Xue Yang: He's just an adorable psycho trash kitty who needs love and candies. Still might kill you tho

Zhou Zishu: As the ex leader of an assassination group, notably pretty much entirely dead assassination group, he has far too much blood on his hands to be anything but the wettest of sad murderers, that even being a very good teacher can’t really excuse.

[techgirltourney]

Welcome to the Tech Girl Tourney!

With a whopping 64 gals who are cyborgs, robots, programs, and more this is shaping up to be a fierce and fun competition!

Here are some rules and such before I give you a written list of contenders and their schedules.

RULES.

Play nice with each other. No harassment or bullying of any kind will be tolerated. It’s a silly little competition! Stay silly! Stay kind!

Think to yourself: "is what I'm about to type about my opponent something I'd like to hear about my favorite blorbo or fandom?" If the answer is "no" don't type it. Hype up your blorbo rather than trash-talk the other gal.

Propaganda is welcome and encouraged (so long as you're following rules 1 & 2). If I miss your propaganda don't hesitate to hop in my inbox and point it out to me. I don't always get notifications on this tumblr account for some reason.

HERE BE SPOILERS (potentially). I don't know every fandom in this tournament but given the nature of these sort of characters, spoilers are highly likely for character reveals! By continuing to follow this blog and participate in this tournament you're consenting to seeing spoilers. I would tag them but I genuinely don't know which characters are spoilers and which aren't.

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All polls will go up at 12 pm EST and be up for 1 day each except the final poll which will be up for a week.

With that out of the way! Onto the contenders and schedule!

Side A - Group 1 - Round 1 [May 25th]

Motherboard (Cyberchase) vs Synergy (Jem and the Holograms)

Robot Candace (Phineas and Ferb) vs Tima (Metropolis)

Uran (Astro Boy) vs Ohno (Mighty Orbots)

Roll (MegaMan) vs Penny Polendina (RWBY)

Viv Vision (Marvel) vs Jenny Wakeman (MLAATR)

Hatsune Miku (Vocaloid) vs Orianna (League of Legends)

Teto Kasane (SynthV) vs Arcee (Transformers)

Robot Girl (Robot Boy) vs Bee (Bee and Puppycat)

Side A - Group 2 - Round 1 [May 27th]

Small Foot (Challenge of the GoBots) vs R. Dorothy Waynewright (The Big O)

Miri (Jetter Mars) vs Accord (Drakengard 3)

Ruru Amour (Hugtto Precure) vs Aigis (Persona 3)

Pixal (Ninjago) vs Ritsu (Assassination Classroom)

Lain Iwakura (Serial Experiments Lain) vs Sage (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Motoko Kusanagi (Ghost in the Shell) vs Falulu (Pripara)

Cutie Honey (Cutie Honey) vs Renais Shishioh (The King of Braves GaoGaiGar)

Jinmay (SRMTHFG) vs Mimi (Super Paper Mario)

Side B - Group 1 - Round 1 [May 29th]

SHODAN (System Shock) vs Drossel von Flugel (Fireball)

GLaDOS (Portal) vs Aradiabot (Homestuck)

Karen Plankton (Spongebob Squarepants) vs Tex (RvB)

Striker (Suisei no Gargantia) vs Miss Monochrome (Miss Monochrome the Animation)

Naomi Armitage (Arimitage the Third) vs Chiaki Nanami (Danganronpa)

Toa Nokama (Bionicle) vs Poppy Pipopapo (Kamen Rider Ex Aid)

Raptor 283 (Uchuu Sentai Kyuranger) vs Cindi Mayweather (Janelle Monae's Metropolis)

Alpha Hatsuseno (Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou) vs Magine (Kikai Sentai Zenkaiger)

Side B - Group 2 - Round 1 [May 31st]

Lal (Star Trek TNG) vs .GIFfany (Gravity Falls)

Megagirl (Starship) vs Hera (Wolf 359)

Monika (DDLC) vs Aelita (Code Lyoko)

Arale Norimaki (Dr. Slump) vs Piper (Robots)

Robecca Steam (Monster High) vs Sari Sumdac (Transformers Animated)

Aya (GLTAS) vs Fey (Welcome to Night Vale)

Orisa (Overwatch) vs Rebecca (Cyberpunk Edgerunners)

Chii (Chobits) vs KOS-MOS (Xenosaga)

Side A - Group 1 - Round 2 [June 2nd]

Motherboard (Cyberchase) vs Robot Candace (Phineas and Ferb)

Uran (Astro Boy) vs Roll (MegaMan)

Jenny Wakeman (MLAATR) vs Hatsune Miku (Vocaloid)

Arcee (Transformers) vs Bee (Bee and Puppycat)

Side A - Group 2 - Round 2 [June 4th]

R. Dorothy Waynewright (The Big O) vs Accord (Drakengard 3)

Aigis (Persona 3) vs Ritsu (Assassination Classroom)

Lain Iwakura (Serial Experiments Lain) vs Motoko Kusanagi (Ghost in the Shell)

Cutie Honey (Cutie Honey) vs Jinmay (SRMTHFG)

Side B - Group 1 - Round 2 [June 6th]

SHODAN (System Shock) vs GLaDOS (Portal)

Tex (RvB) vs Striker (Suisei no Gargantia)

Chiaki Nanami (Danganronpa) vs Toa Nokama (Bionicle)

Raptor 283 (Uchuu Sentai Kyuranger) vs Magine (Kikai Sentai Zenkaiger)

Side B - Group 2 - Round 2 [June 8th]

.GIFfany (Gravity Falls) vs Hera (Wolf 359)

Aelita (Code Lyoko) vs Piper (Robots)

Robecca Steam (Monster High) vs Fey (Welcome to Night Vale)

Orisa (Overwatch) vs Chii (Chobits)

Side A - Group 1 - Round 3 [June 10th]

Motherboard (Cyberchase) vs Uran (Astro Boy)

Hatsune Miku (Vocaloid) vs Bee (Bee and Puppycat)

Side A - Group 2 - Round 3 [June 12th]

R. Dorothy Waynewright (The Big O) vs Aigis (Persona 3)

Lain Iwakura (Serial Experiments Lain) vs Cutie Honey (Cutie Honey) Side B - Group 1 - Round 3 [June 14th]

GLaDOS (Portal) vs Tex (RvB)

Toa Nokama (Bionicle) vs Magine (Kikai Sentai Zenkaiger)

Side B - Group 2 - Round 3 [June 16th]

.GIFfany (Gravity Falls) vs Aelita (Code Lyoko)

Robecca Steam (Monster High) vs Orisa (Overwatch)

Side A - Group 1 - Quarterfinals [June 18th]

Motherboard (Cyberchase) vs Hatsune Miku (Vocaloid)

Side A - Group 2 - Quarterfinals [June 20th]

Aigis (Persona 3) vs Lain Iwakura (Serial Experiments Lain)

Side B - Group 1 - Quarterfinals [June 22nd]

GLaDOS (Portal) vs Toa Nokama (Bionicle)

Side B - Group 2 - Quarterfinals [June 24th]

.GIFfany (Gravity Falls) vs Robecca Steam (Monster High)

Side A - Semifinals [June 26th]

Hatsune Miku (Vocaloid) vs Lain Iwakura (Serial Experiments Lain)

Side B - Semifinals [June 28th]

GLaDOS (Portal) vs .GIFfany (Gravity Falls) Finals [June 30th]

Hatsune Miku (Vocaloid) vs GLaDOS (Portal)

WINNER

GLaDOS (Portal)

[omniblades-and-stars]

The Last Time (A Game of Cat and Mouse)

Read on AO3

"Bancroft Exports and Logistics Headquarters" read the sign carved from impeccably polished wood, no doubt from Earth. It was mounted on the wall next to a door made of frosted glass and featuring antique bronze hinges and a matching bronze doorknob, shaped humorously like one of Earth's large felines, a lion, if he remembered correctly. He always did. As he reached for the door knob with a green-scaled hand, Thane Krios noted it as something to ask Mr. Bancroft about. It was obviously meant as a statement, the expense of retrofitting a Nos Astra office building for an ancient human door alone meant that it was not simply a design choice.

He straightened the front panel of his expensive suit jacket as he strolled into the lobby. There was a reception desk with a high counter wrapped around the front, topped in the same dark polished wood that the sign at the door was. There was another office door directly to the right of the reception desk, and a cart against the wall with porcelain tea cups hanging from metal hooks. One was missing.

The receptionist was not at their post, it seemed. There was, however, a small sign that read "Press Button for Assistance". He was surprised when there was no audible tone when his carefully filed talon depressed the cool metallic button.

After several seconds of empty silence, a booming, "I don't pay you to stand around and look pretty! Go see who it is, damn it," reverberated from the office behind the door. A feminine voice answered back, the words of her quiet reply were lost to the barrier provided by thick walls. Thane clasped his hands behind his back and waited patiently to be greeted by someone. He was going to enjoy killing Mr. Bancroft later. 

The door cracked open and the first thing out of it was a slender, human, woman's foot. It was clad in a precarious, ruby red high-heeled shoe, a thin strap buckled around a delicately arched ankle. Her legs, shapely and well-toned, were covered by sheer black stockings. A pronounced seam ran up the length of her calf, disappearing behind her knee and beneath the hem of a charcoal gray skirt so tight, it could have been a second skin. 

His eyes traveled up her body, taking in the receptionist as she pushed sideways out of the door. She held a silver tea tray in her delicate, gloved hands, and despite her unreasonably high heels, she moved with well-practiced grace and fluidity. 

A pristine cream colored blouse covered a supple chest, the promising curve of soft flesh hidden beneath whisper thin fabric. A collar buttoned high on her slender throat with dainty, round pearls, covered a scar he knew was there. He was surprised to see her here. She was supposed to be dead.

He killed her.

Bare skin burns hot, pressed and writhing beneath him. A soft moan turns to a surprised gasp and her fingers dig sharp into the muscles of his arms. Silken lips parted against his in a silent plea. Breaths ragged from exertion and the effects of the venom still coursing in her veins. Crimson rivulets wash down the cold metal of his blade. Tears bead at the edges of her clouded, disbelieving eyes, pupils wide, surprised by the betrayal she knew would inevitably come. "Why?" She mouths, unable to speak.

"We can't keep doing this. This is the last time," he whispers, and tenderly brushes wisps of dark hair from her sweat-dewed cheek. Tears that are not hers fall, mingling with the ones sliding over her skin and into the hair tangled on the pillow below her. Her grip on his arms falters as she grows weak. He leaves her alone to die in a Presidium hotel room, disquieted and regretful.

It had been too difficult to stay. He should have known she would pull through. She was stubborn, tenacious.

Beautiful, precious.

And above all, a devious, deadly viper.

But why was it relief that he felt to see her again?

Familiar honey-colored eyes glared at him as she turned to greet him. She drew the plush flesh of her burgundy lip in between her teeth, seductive and no doubt a sign of the anger she felt at the sight of him.

The anger burning in her wide, clear eyes disappeared in a flash, as though it had never existed. A wide smile took its place, creasing the corners of her eyes, and she broke her silence by proclaiming, "Oh, you must be the security consultant here to meet with the board. I am so sorry, how do you pronounce your name, Mister…" Her voice was soft, dripping with syrupy cheer. Her head cocked slightly to the side quizzically, a convincing charade played out for no one but the two of them. 

"Tuek. Rumi Tuek. It is a pleasure to meet you. Though, I am afraid that I do not know your name," he said in reply. In this, he told no lie. No living person knew her true name. Her names shifted like the crashing tides of the sea.

"Julia Tophana," she answered cheerfully and bravely turned her back on him to set the tray on top of the cart. "When I first saw your name on the appointment list this week, I assumed it must have been a salarian name," she lied easily, putting on a breathy, airy voice that he knew very well was an act. She continued putting the pieces of the tea service away with gloved hands as she filled the silence with trite chatter. "I thought, 'Surely it couldn't be a drell name, there are so few to be seen away from Kahje.' But what do I know? Mr. Bancroft always says, 'I didn't hire you for your brains, Jules.'"

How long had she been working as the man’s secretary just to murder him?

She loved the long game.

Julia turned and flashed a charming smile at him, holding a stained tea cup in her left hand. "He underestimates me. They always pay for underestimating me. Don't they?" Thane's hand ghosted over his abdomen, where the memory of her blade made itself known. She started this destructive little game of theirs.

She cries out for help as his target tries to pull her into a filthy alley, one of so many on this part of Omega. He runs to help this stranger, a young, human woman out for a jog. A gunshot echoes out of the alley, and the woman's screams stop.

Too late, he fears. But as he turns around the abandoned building at the entrance to the alley, he sees her standing hunched over a body, hands gripping the pistol like iron. She holds it like it is both her only lifeline and the most terrifying thing in the galaxy. Like she has never fired it before.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I … I … was so scared! I didn't … oh God, what did I do?" Her cries are shrill, panicked, she is nearly hyperventilating. Her hands shake and tears streak over the gentle curve of her cheeks. She looks up at him with large, pleading, amber eyes, and drops the pistol on the ground right before she heaves and vomits all over her lavender running shoes.

"Please, let me help you get cleaned up," he offers quietly as he approaches. She clutches his hands with her own trembling fingers and allows him to lead her away. She tells him her name is Artemis, tells him about how she ended up on Omega, and how lonely it is living on that horrible station.

It's hours later and they are still together, she's pressed against him, hot and needy. Her kisses taste like peppermint toothpaste. "It was so easy. This is the last time you'll see me, see anything," she whispers against his lips. Cold metal bites into his skin, just below his lung and it twists as she pushes him harder against the wall. Her strength is surprising. Too late he realizes that she is not just an innocent woman out for an evening run. The pain forces a groan coursing up his throat. He can feel the blade scraping through his ribs, feel it pierce through the other side. "I don't do competition," she explains and strokes his cheek with a soft hand, now coated in emerald blood. She simply walks away after, leaving her blade, and him, pinned to the wall. It is the kind of folding blade engineered by and for killers, expensive and easily hidden.

The truth of the matter was that she was a small, beautiful woman blessed with large, doe eyes, and perfect, bow shaped lips. Traits that she carefully wielded to her advantage at every available opportunity. Including here, in this moment, where he was her only audience. She was like the sirens of Earth’s ancient mythology, and he too often found himself ensnared by her song.

Arashu protect me, Amonkira guide me, and Kalahira, please take this damnable woman to the darkest, coldest depths of your oceans.

She brought the cup down onto the hard surface of the desk, shattering it with purpose. "Oops! How clumsy of me!" She brushed the shards into the trash can, and in a smooth motion removed the gloves from her hands and deposited them into the receptacle after, careful not to touch the outside material with her bare fingers.

The gloves must have cost a fortune. They appeared to be made of real animal skin, unlike the synthetic leather worn by most. Even in their line of work. 

She'd always been one for flair, even if only for her own sake.

His eyes followed the dexterous lines of slender fingers, recalling the feeling of them tracing tender lines over the ridges of his scales, the feel as they dug into his flesh as she tried to tear his grip from her throat. With a raised brow, he started to ask, “Mr. Bancroft, is he-”

“Dead? He is, but he doesn’t know it yet,” The Shepherd responded while she checked the watch set into a dainty silver band around her wrist. “He will have a “sudden” stroke in approximately four hours.”

Of course, poison. 

One of her favorite methods. She had always been one for a more personal approach. She liked to get in close, get to know the target. She loved to play games, like a cat toying with a mouse that didn't know her claws were already piercing its skin. Until it was much, much too late.

She always played games. 

Thane's lips curled into a disapproving grimace. He despised that she got to Bancroft first.

He despised that she waited until she knew he would be here to do it. This entire charade, this whole show was for his benefit alone. 

It was payback. It was his turn to be the mouse, it seemed. It was probably no less than he deserved.

Deserved or not, he would not let her win.

Her clean up finished, The Shepherd picked up a datapad and waved for him to follow her into the curving hallway. “This way, Mr. Tuek. The board meets on the next floor up, accessible only by the interior elevator.” She strode in front of him, the long curve of her legs accented by the pointed heel of her shoe. Absently, she brushed a long dark lock of hair that had fallen loose from her bun, held together by shining metal sticks, behind her ear. It was much longer than their last meeting.

“I like what you’ve done with your hair, Ms. Tophana. It is a shame that I will kill you before I get to enjoy it,” he whispered in her ear as they walked past the office workers diligently working at their desks in the open office space nested behind the reception lobby.

“I like the piercings you have there on the ridge above your frill, those are new. I will take great pleasure in tearing them from your smug face right before I end you,” she retorted while looking straight ahead. Her mouth curled up, confidence hidden in the upturned corner of her lips. "This is the last time, Krios," she whispered hotly.

"You are sure of this? You have yet to kill me, Shepherd," he reminded her and placed a gentle, threatening hand at the small of her back. The silken fabric of her blouse slid pleasantly over his scales. 

Their walk through the office came to a halt at the elevator, tucked into a hall filled with more office spaces. The Shepherd turned to face him as she pressed the call button for the lift. "It will either be me or you this time. To the death, once and for all. I'm not leaving this building without your life."

The elevator arrived with a chime, and the door slid open. "Then you will not leave this building," he answered emphatically and stepped into the elevator.

The Shepherd pressed her arm across the opening to prevent the door from sliding closed. She leaned in, passing the datapad to him, her lips ghosted dangerously close to his cheek, her breath hot on his skin, stirring heat deep within him. Her hair smelled like honeysuckle. It always smelled like honeysuckle. "You make mistakes when you underestimate me. Don't make it easy for me," she whispered. Suddenly, she pulled back, "You'll understand why I won't be joining you in the elevator. The boardroom is directly to your right, through the preposterous double doors. You can't miss it." 

She had the audacity to wiggle her fingers at him as though she were waving goodbye to a friend as the door slid shut. 

He looked down at the datapad and turned the screen on. Thane didn't know whether to be greatly amused or greatly irritated by the image that greeted him:

"A Game of Cat and Mouse" written out in the flowing script he knew to be hers, followed by a humorous drawing of a cat with human hair styled just like hers. And pinned beneath her feline paws, a mouse with green and black scales.

Hiding in an office suite after his meeting, now entirely pointless due to Bancroft's impending death, had concluded was a simple matter. It was easy enough to duck into the office of some executive who was almost certainly on vacation, and simply wait until everyone who was not The Shepherd left. By the time the work day drew to a close, he found himself pondering the pendulous motion of the Newton’s Cradle decorating the large wooden desk in his hiding office.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Cla-

“We’re alone now, Krios. You can come out of hiding,” she shouted down the hall from her roost in the lobby.

As he walked silently down the hall, he removed his suit jacket, slinging it over his shoulder and cuffing his shirt sleeves at his forearms. When he rounded the hall into the lobby, she was standing with her back to him. Her arms were raised, the mass of her hair held tightly in her fist as she began to wrap it around her hand and tie it more suitably to the base of her skull. The two decorative sticks were laid on the counter, perfectly symmetrical to one another.

“That’s close enough, Thane. Rules first,” she said firmly without turning to him. She grabbed one of the sticks and popped the bottom tip off of it, revealing a very fine sharp point. She leaned to the side and pulled the hem of her skirt taut in her fingers. The Shepherd drove the point into the stretched fabric and then pulled it. The organic fibers parted noisily up the side of her leg, up to the leather belt fastened around her thigh, just above where her stockings came to an end, teasing him.

Thane drew his gaze back to her hair. Her hair was safe, it was drawn up messily in a simple elastic band, and was quite possibly the only part of this that wasn't a performance. “I am listening, Shepherd,” he confirmed. She paused, and almost imperceptibly shivered before leaning to tear the other side of her skirt.

Muscle and bone shifts beneath the tan skin of her back as she undulates. Her back is a star-chart, made up of tiny constellations of freckles and scars. Bruises blooming purple and blue prove the background of the galaxy mapped out between her shoulder blades and beyond. He props himself up on one hand before gently running a short talon over a long jagged scar just below her shoulder blade.

"This one?" He asks, breaking the silence. Her skin pebbles beneath his touch, goosebumps, she calls them. She shivers as his finger trails across her back.

"From the time I killed an elcor diplomat," she says through heavy, panting breaths. "Didn't think he'd be sneaky enough to hide a knife." She is lying, a preposterous lie at that. He has asked her about it before. The last time, it was from a krogan battlemaster's pet varren. He is fairly certain it is a scar from a turian's unfiled talon.

He moves again to sit up completely, and her back arches to accommodate him. His left hand circles around her body, tracing gentle lines over her skin, admiring the bumps that form in its wake, but only for a moment. He presses his other hand around the base of her throat, he can feel the tendons shift as she swallows and moves, and the beat of her heart, fast and strong. He can feel another line, just under her breast. "And what of this one?" He asks with his lips pressed against her neck, he can taste the salt of her sweat.

He knows the answer. He put it there. 

They are moving in tandem, languid, and unhurried, savoring this beautiful charade, awash in blinding pleasures. This time, they started as enemies and ended as lovers. He much prefers it this way than the other. Tonight, she is sweet … by the gods is she sweet. Her hair smells of honeysuckle, and the softest sounds drip like nectar from her lips. And he is an addict for them. He can almost imagine that she isn't like a poison to him, or him a sharpened knife to her.

"I tripped and fell into that one. It was an accident, really," she says with a smile in her voice. "Dropped my guard, for the last time," she explains and lies and tells the truth all in the same sentence, through the same panting breaths. He can't explain why he finds these little, unnecessary lies so charming, so enrapturing, but he does.

He is caught in her web, and he climbs further in of his own volition.

"No guns, no poison, no omni-tools, and no warp fields. Agreed?" The Shepherd rolled her shoulders back and stretched her neck, the elongated curve of it far too tempting. The very edge of the silvering scar peaked over the edge of her collar.

"Agreed."

She stood on one leg and pulled her foot up behind her, stretching her leg and rolling her ankle. She was still wearing those impractical, ridiculous, attractive shoes. "Good, any additions you'd like to make?" She continued her stretching as though she were preparing to go on a run,  and he was not a professional assassin ready to attack.

"I would appreciate it if you did not use your biotics to pull my central nervous system apart this time," he requested with a smile. One encounter with her biotics had left him twitching and blinking sporadically for weeks. "I believe that is a fair exchange in return for not using mine to rip you apart from the outside."

"Oh, I hate when you make a good point. Fine. Questions?" She asked as she turned to face him. He had expected to see her cocky smile, or a demure smirk. Maybe even a deep, hateful scowl. 

But her lips were pressed in a hard line, and her eyes were bloodshot, and lined harshly red at the edges. Had she been crying? Was she frightened?

Or was this a part of her game? He could never tell with her. It could have been another of her little lies. Even still, it gave him pause, tightened a knot in his gut. 

Thane shook his head and tried to push off his reservations. He was in her snare, he knew. He tossed his jacket to one of the small chairs in the lobby and clasped his hands behind his back. "Who hired you to kill Bancroft?" 

He was merely curious, very few people earned having more than one assassination plot against them.

"His wife. You?"

"His son," he answered with a smile. Even fewer people were so hated by their families that they would independently hire someone to kill them. "Do you have any questions for me?"

The Shepherd cocked her head and furrowed her brow. Her question fell from her lips quietly and without preamble, and it detonated like a hydrogen bomb, "If I die tonight, will you mourn me? There isn’t anyone else." She fumbled her words and hastened to add, "Who would even notice, much less care if I die, I mean."

The aftershock rolled into him and sent blood thundering through his chest. "Yes, I mourn you every time, " he answered sincerely and before he could grasp the magnitude of his own words. "Shepherd, if Kalahira calls me to the sea tonight, will you mourn for me?"

"Yes. Every time."

They had killed each other, or tried to anyways, far too many times.

The seconds that passed before either of them moved crackled with electricity. The only warning he had before The Shepherd leapt at him was the flaring of her nostrils. She held the slender stick in her hand like a blade as she pushed off the ground without a sound. He threw his left arm up and pushed the blade away with his forearm, and curled his right fist up towards her ribs.

Her body bowed out of the way of his strike, and stepped in towards him. She hooked her foot around his ankle and pulled him off-balance. Her elbow connected with his collarbone sending a sharp pain shooting through his neck and shoulder. Just as the tiny little blade made its way to his chest, he thrust the flat his hand up. The air around his body ignited cerulean blue, and the blade struck the barrier and snapped. 

The Shepherd stumbled backwards, dropping the now useless implement to the ground. "Shit, I hate it when you do that," she grumbled and adjusted her stance again. 

He pressed his hand into his shoulder and rolled it, stretching out the muscle. "You know, you possess the same skill? It might be useful for keeping much more of your blood inside of your body."

Her small nose crinkled up before she smirked, "That your professional opinion, since you're so good at freeing me of mine?"

"Deserved, although the same could be said for you of mine," he retorted right before advancing on her. They fought. Fists, hands, feet, all moving with blinding speed and precision. He pressed hard against her, and she took steps back, all the while blocking quick strikes and narrowly avoiding getting caught in his grasp.

She came to a stop with her back pressed against the reception counter. The Shepherd reached behind her without looking away from him, and snatched the other hair pin up, releasing the pointed tip hidden under a small metallic cap. She was quick, and aimed the small weapon for his neck.

Thane wrapped one hand around her wrist, and pulled the implement free with the other. He didn’t hesitate and drove it into her side, earning a snarling hiss from the woman.

He’d always been faster than her.

The Shepherd struck him hard in the chest with her outstretched palm, and a concentrated blast of energy followed it a fraction of a second later. Indigo light flared from beneath her hand and he was pushed back across the room, knocking the air from his lungs, and his body to the floor. She pulled the weapon from her side with a grunt, vermillion spreading across the thin fabric of her punctured shirt.

She closed the gap between them with a short run. She raised her foot to bring it down hard on his chest. Thane shifted and rolled away just as she brought her foot down, throwing her off balance. He struck her other foot with a blunt kick, bringing her down to his level.

“Fuck!” she shouted as she crashed to her hands and knees. Immediately, she began to crawl away, working her way back up to crouching, trying to stand again.

Until he grabbed her around the ankle and began to pull her back towards him. “No you don’t,” he grunted as he dragged her thrashing body, preventing her escape. “Why do you wear these shoes, Shepherd? They are quite impractical for walking, much less a fight.”

The Shepherd stopped thrashing and allowed him to pull her nearer while answering, “Have you seen what they do for my legs and my ass?” He had, he could see it right now. “Besides, they serve a function.” She pushed her hands up under her body and flipped herself onto her back. She drove the hard, narrow point of her heel hard into the musculature just below his left shoulder.

He growled and nearly bit his tongue. 

Evil, demon of a woman. 

The stiletto ground against sinew and bone, the pain sending a flash of white static through his vision. He dropped his grip on her leg, and groaned as she pulled her foot free from his shoulder, centimeter by visceral centimeter.

The woman scurried away, standing and disappearing around the corner in the hall at dead run. 

He stood and tested his shoulder, it seemed that she managed not to tear any ligaments or tendons. He could move through the pain. Thane darted off after her, “Running away? That is very unlike you.”

“No … ugh … just looking for a change of scenery,” he heard her breathless and grunting reply from down the hall heading towards the elevator. As he neared the hall, he saw her forcing the doors open and pulling herself up and into the empty elevator shaft. He followed after, fully expecting her to be waiting at the next floor to push him to his death down the shaft.

But she was not there.

Instead, a small ceramic saucer came flying at him, a projectile sent from inside of the truly ridiculous, large double doors leading into the boardroom. He ducked below it, but didn't see the next saucer, until it struck him right in the side of the head. The ceramic shattered against his scales, and he could feel the stinging heat of blood gathering on small cuts.

The Shepherd was standing on the board room table, an enormous expanse of wood cut from a singular tree, stained and sealed with resin. She pulled her foot back and kicked a holo-conference terminal, sending it sailing towards him. Thane leaned to the side, easily dodging the awkward projectile.

He balled up his fist and pulled it back, gathering biotic energy before releasing it. It sailed into her and sent her sprawling to the surface of the table. Paper, more saucers, and a datapad or two went scattering out from under her fall. He jumped onto the table, rapidly closing the distance. 

She crossed her ankles around one of his legs, pulling him to the surface of the table. Their fight turned into something more akin to a schoolyard brawl. They traded sloppy, awkward blows, rolling back and forth on the broad meeting room table.

Suddenly, she had him pinned, pressing hard into the wound on his shoulder while she reached for the belt secured around her leg.

Thane wrapped his right hand over her face and pushed her head back hard, and grabbed her wrist with his other hand as she attempted to stab him with the knife that had been hidden on the inside of her thigh. He pushed up while she pushed down. She shifted her head and snapped her teeth around the base of his thumb hard enough to draw blood.

He bared his teeth at her and growled. Thane shifted his weight and wrapped his leg over her hip, with her knife-wielding hand still held firmly in his grip, he pulled her down close just before rolling over her. He sat fully on her abdomen, preventing her from rolling and thrashing.

She clawed at his throat with her free hand, curses quickly turned to animalistic cries as she struggled to keep her grip on her precious little knife. Much of her hair had come loose, splayed out in messy tangles around her head and cheeks. Blood seeped from a bite mark on her lip and her eyes burned with fury, and perhaps, fear.

Thane wrenched the knife from her hand and threw it off to the side. It hit the tiled floor with a sharp, metallic crack, but was immediately forgotten as the woman returned to clawing, scratching and hitting him with every ounce of energy she could muster. And it did hurt. He wrapped his hands around her slender wrists with crushing strength. She let out a guttural cry and twisted at the abdomen, trying to free herself. Her legs scrambled to find purchase on the table and push him up from on top of her, but all she accomplished was scraping deep ruts into the resin coating on the wood.

He gathered her wrists in one hand and brought them down hard and awkwardly just above her head. He brought his other hand to her throat, the buttons of her collar long since pulled free during their struggle, and he paused.

Beneath his fingers, the smooth, but too long line of the scar taunted him. It was thin, almost surgical in its precision, but cruel. His cruelty, not hers. 

His heart skipped while hers thundered beneath his ghosting touch. Her chest rose and fell so rapidly, she was on the verge of hyperventilating. Genuinely.

The Shepherd looked up at him with those wide, terrified eyes of hers. She let her head fall back to the tabletop, exhaled, and squeezed her eyes shut. “Just do it, Thane. You win. Better this way, wouldn't want it to be anyone else.”  Silent tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. “The last time, right?” she asked with a choked, pitiful laugh.

"No," he said, frozen in place with just the barest contact with her skin.

Her breath hitched and her eyes flew open. Impossibly, her heart began to beat faster, breaths came out in short, fast bursts from her nose. "What? Fuck, don't drag this out!” She cried out. “Just snap my neck, or shit, strangle me. Plea-"

Her confused protestations were silenced when his lips covered hers in a bruising, searing kiss. She gasped and he released her hands. Just as he was pulling back to ask her if that was alright, she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and brought him back to her lips.

In seconds they were consumed by each other, psychological games, anger and violence all but forgotten in the blinding heat of raw, pent up desire. The way she moved and how they were suddenly undressed was dizzying. His memories of the softness of her skin and sweet melody of her voice could never compare to the satin plush of her thighs gripping his waist, or the sounds that tumbled from her mouth.

By the gods, the sounds she made. They were healing waters from the wellspring of her lips. They were quiet, keening mewls, breathy gasps, and those hushed moans pressed against his lips like mumbled prayers. And oh, the way she whined when his teeth scraped against the delicate curve of her throat. He was drunk on the way she breathed his name with muted fervor.

His world turned upside down, and the cool surface of the table met his back. Loose tendrils of her hair brushed his scales as she moved over him. Her head tipped back and her lips parted, forming the perfect silhouette of ecstasy. The muscles in her stomach slithered and writhed with the hypnotic rhythm beneath his hands.  

He was lost in the intoxicating, feverish warmth of her. 

It crested, they existed on the edge of a corona, just before falling over the edge into the crushing gravity, and all-consuming, plasmic bliss. It surged through him like an electric shock and stole his breath, made his fingers tingle like her skin held a static charge.

She collapsed on top of him, the full weight of her small body pushing what little air was held in his lungs out with a groan. The Shepherd laughed, breathless but musical. “It happened again,” she muttered against his chest.

Thane wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to him and carding his hand into her hair, and drawing gentle circles between her shoulders with the other. She shivered, goosebumps rising beneath carefully filed talons. Her fingers traced lines over the soft ridges of his neck. He stared up at the ceiling above them, struggling to control the surge of confused emotion mounting inside of him. “It did,” he agreed quietly. “Will you tell me your name?”

He could feel her muscles tense, and her shoulder blades drew close together before she released the tension with a sad sigh. “No,” she started and then hesitated. “My real name belongs to someone I’m not anymore. Call me Sophie, always liked that one.”

“Sophie,” he repeated into her flower scented hair.

“There isn’t anyone else. To love or to hate me,” she said suddenly, somehow disarming him again.

“You have me,” it rolled off of his lips too easily. She did that to him, pulled his guard away and rendered him loose with his affections and tongue.

She’d probably try to kill him right now. Tear him apart with biotics, or reveal that she’d poisoned some innocuous part of the office that he touched. Maybe that absurd lion’s head door knob at the entrance to the office. Maybe even the heel of her ridiculous shoe. That’s how this usually went.

Instead, she raised her head and looked at him with tired, quizzical eyes, “To love, or to hate me?”

“Perhaps, it is both,” he responded honestly. Maybe the gods knew, because he certainly did not.

“We can figure it out the next last time,” she said with a small smirk playing at the corner of her bruised, cut and perfect lips. “Assuming we don’t kill each other first.”

He returned her smile with one of his own. “I would not want it to be anyone else.”

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Les Trois Mousquetaires, Chapter Six

This chapter mainly deals with both the Musketeers and the Red Guard blaming each other for almost burning a house down, and with Tréville trying to fix things while nursing an increasing headache. Oh, and we meet the King who's a high-maintenance, bored child.

So, Tréville has just returned from listening to King Louis complaining about the Cardinal complaining about the Musketeers because of last night's fight (and Tréville, bless him, managed to spin the whole nearly-arrested-for-dueling affair into admiration for three Musketeers, one of them injured, and an additional "child" (d'Artagnan) taking down five Guards, while also securing d'Artagnan (+3) an audience with the King) - and our boys have nothing better to do than throwing themselves into another melée with the Red Guard.

(They're not only inseparable, they're also incorrigible.)

It goes down like this:

Our four meet up for a tennis match (don't laugh, it was a Thing in 1630 in Paris), and d'Artagnan gets into a stupid argument with a Guard who basically calls him a coward. A few minutes later, it's dozens of Musketeers vs. an equal number of Guards fighting in the street. basically trashing a whole quartier, and it almost ends with the Musketeers burning down a house (associated with the Red Guard) - but reconsidering because - too bad - our foursome have to leave for their audience with the King. (They settle for throwing a few bricks instead.)

Cue more headaches for Tréville. Through the testimony of an injured Red Guard and a lot of sweet-talking from Tréville, it once more ends with our Musketeers being vindicated and with the King being proud of his brave and victorious regiment - and a cheeky admonition from Louis to stop decimating the Red Guard at such a rate.

Papa Tréville is secretly proud of his boys, d'Artagnan leaves with a reward of 40 pistoles and a commission for the Guards of M. des Essarts, and the Cardinal is definitely throwing a fit somewhere in his private chambers.

Favorite quote:

"Est-ce pour cela que je vous ai nommé capitaine des mes mousquetaires, que ceux-ci assassinent un homme, émouvent tout un quartier et veulent brûler Paris sans que vous en disiez un mot?"

(Did I appoint you captain of my museketeers so they could assassinate a man, stir up a whole district and try to burn Paris down without you telling me a single word about it?) 🤣

[gaymer-hag-stan]

Okay so here's the thing

I used to not follow anyone because at some point Tumblr had this feature where if you followed tags but not people it would filter popular posts from the tags you follow on your feed.

While this feature has been gone for a long while, I retained hope that maybe they would bring it back but here we are...

So, I ask you, if you post about any of the following give a like and I'll check out your blog. Reblogging is appreciated for a bigger reach. There's also a tag limit so I won't be able to properly tag everything anyway, so I'll be ranking my interests in order of decreasing... interest

Tomb Raider (anti Kurtis Trent, otherwise love all eras and Laras)

2NE1 (OT4)

T-ara (OT6)

Girls' Generation (OT9, OT8 is fine so long as you don't trash Jessica)

Tekken (anti Kazuya × Jun)

Wonder Girls (K-pop group OT6)

KARA (K-pop group, OT6)

Dead or Alive (the fighting game, though You Soon Me Round slaps)

After School (the K-pop group, I love all of them but mostly interested in the 2012 OT8 lineup + Kahi)

Brown Eyed Girls (K-pop group, OT4)

miss A (K-pop group, OT4)

SoulCalibur

4Minute (OT5)

Assassin's Creed (anti Haytham, love both the originals and the RPG era but if you're one of the boomers that complain about how things used to be better don't bother)

The King of Fighters

f(x) [all five though if you don't support Amber I won't judge. If you were one of those who called Sulli an untalented attention whore while she was alive touch grass now]

Street Fighter (anti F.A.N.G, Rufus, Dan, Hugo, Abigail)

SISTAR (OT4)

Resident Evil (anti-Wesker, anti-Luis)

Virtua Fighter

Video Games (I've grown up with PlayStation so I don't really know of care about Microsoft or Nintendo's exclusive stuff)

Second Generation K-pop Girl Groups (no boys allowed. I have a weird relationship with GGs post-2012 but I don't outright hate any of them. I think)

Fighting Games

Eurovision (2004 onwards, if you're one of the unhinged Käärijä fans trashing Loreen stay the fuck away)

Pop Divas (Madonna, Rihanna, Taylor Swift, Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston, Céline Dion, Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, Adele, Beyoncé, Nicki Minaj, Britney Spears, Janet Jackson, Cher, Donna Summer, P!nk, Christina Aguilera, Shakira, Jennifer Lopez, Kylie Minogue)

9MUSES (2013 lineup)

The Elder Scrolls (Skyrim mostly)

Guilty Gear

Samurai Shodown

Capcom vs. SNK

Sid Meier's Civilization

Rainbow (all seven)

Apink (OT6)

Skullgirls

Final Fantasy (I don't care for the MMOs or XVI)

Secret (all four)

Mortal Kombat (anti Raiden)

Girl's Day (OT4)

Granblue Fantasy: Versus

BlazBlue

Under Night In-Birth

Marvel vs. Capcom

Dragon Ball FighterZ

Melty Blood

Sonic the Hedgehog

Injustice

Persona 4 Arena

[yuta-is-a-little-shithead]

House's Local TCG Report Card - WiXoss

Went 2-1, only losing to the guy that ended up in first place! Played Hanayo Dissona Ener Burn, so y'know kinda meta but I'm hoping I do Urith Demons in two weeks, have pre-release next week so gotta take care of that first!

First match vs Ril Coin Aggro: My opponent is good, I'd consider him the best player in a technical manner. If he played a good deck he'd probably be unstopable. Went full send on the last turn, forced as much damage as I could and took him down.

Second match vs Black!Tamayorihime Dissona Recursion: This guy's good but he was dealing with allergies most of the game. He misplayed in the end, but it didn't super matter, I had enough stops to live no matter what that turn. Life bursts were very relevant but not something that can be controlled. Finished with a full send playing around the SIGNI and LRIG Barriers he set up with Sunspot Memory, since Lancer is a crush and not damage, an assassin lane, and an open lane getting the win.

Third match vs Ange Mono White Virtuals: Bad draws, bad Life Bursts, bad game. I pushed as much as I could and I got their resources down but I didn't really have much in the way of lane clears or general defenses. Got milled out: all four Servants went to trash from the mill, and checking for Life Bursts found 18 in grave and ener + 1 in hand with 2 life cloth left. Mill damage? The Life Burst. Bad run on this one but I could have probably gotten in some more damage if I hadn't rushed the field. We recorded this one so I'll watch it carefully this weekend to see what I could've done differently.

Overall a good week, enjoyed the games and didn't play the guy I don't like playing so I can't complain! Pre-Release next week should be fun, sealed environments are some of my favorites so I'm looking forward to it!

[trashmenace]

Reading Rumble Intercontinental Title Match - Sodergren vs Garton

A close match, but Garton comes up on top as our new Intercontinental Champion and earns a shot at the Heavyweight Championship belt. Will he be Trash Fiction Championship's first double crown winner?

This match has been brought to you by Clockwork Assassin.

Cyborgs Attack!

From Yakuza ninjas and Mafia snipers in the streets of New York to an army of deadly robotic assassins in a hidden volcano base, hitman Nathan Bendell joins forces with others in his trade in a deadly fight for survival. He’s joined by:

Blane Logan: former MI6 agent turned mercenary

Cynthia Rogers: ninja weapon specialist and bodyguard

Roger Beretta: small arms marksman and vigilante

It’s merc versus machine in an all-out battle for the title of Earth’s deadliest killer!

Available from Amazon https://amzn.to/3rjhmic