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sun-snatcher · 1 month

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Wish. If u give me a Part 2 of your Gambit fic with ❛ we'll just have to make do. ❜ where they both make it out of the Void together I will kiss u on the mouth rn I PROMISE u. Or a hug. Whichever works. PLS I JUST NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS TO THEM🙏🏼😫

♧ ⎯ ‘LIMBO LOSERS’ CLUB

summ. The TVA extends an olive branch. Wade’s Universe becomes home. Above all, you’re just thankful you’re not alone in this Multiversal mess. pairing. Void!Gambit x f!Anomaly!reader (established in #WELUCKYFEW) w.count. 1.6k a/n. Shirtless Channing + romantic hand tension. That's it. That's the tweet. ( Continuation of this imagine! )

YOU SURVIVE ALIOTH.

That’s the first surprise.

The second?

The Time Variance Authority want to help, now.

( Granted, it’d mostly been Wade who did the gruntwork of sending Elektra and Blade back to their Universes, but he had hit a wall when it came to you and Gambit considering you two were— according to him: “A coked up version of being homeless. Universe-less.” )

So here you are, a stray of the Multiverse, standing on the platform of a mid-century aestheticised monitor room somewhere outside the constraints of time, trying not to double over from the vertiginous aftermath of being thrown through Wade’s weird orange warbling door of space.

TemPad, he’d called the device. Or… something. You’re half-sure you have a concussion, to be honest.

Alioth had done a number on you.

Remy’s concerned.

“Here’s what I don’t understand,” Wade says, mask rolled up to his nose. (There’s a spoon and plate of key lime pie in his hands. You’re not even sure where he got it from.) “Where did Gambit come from? How come he just spawned into the MCU’s metaphysical Backrooms?”

“Candidly, he is a unique case.”

Remy pulls his gaze from you to Hunter B-15.

“You, Mr. LeBeau, are the prime example of a Variant that’s borne from a timeline decaying just as quickly as it was formed. A rare type that fades instantly without unnatural interference, because an Anchor failed to develop.”

One of the CRT screens zip to a retro rubber-hose animated diagram: rapidly branching roots, ominous red flashing, and then an immediate blink into nothing. Talk about dramatic effect.

“Your Universe falls in the rare category of those that never managed to come into fruition; but sometimes— incredibly rarely— remnants just like you manage to slip through, and instead of ceasing to exist… Well, you automatically end up getting spit into the Void.”

A pause.

Then, from behind, Wade bursts into a cackle.

“Ha! Wow, she basically called you a discontinued fucking nobody,” he wheezes. “You’re quite literally the equivalent of a failed movie pitch that’s been forgotten on the floor of Feige’s writers’ room.”

Screens flicker.

Your breath hitches.

Versions of different Gambit’s play out in the monitor-wall, all alike and yet different in their individual realities. Some have black eyes. Some have top-hats (“Ah, that’s 2009 Origins,” Wade muses. “Do all Variants of you just have a beautiful face? I mean, it’s kinda unfair—”).

Some look like identical copies.

[EARTH-TRN2922].

It’s… your timeline.

Your friends in the Mutant war. Your Remy whose cards are scattered on the floor, blood in his hands, with you crumbling as you reach ou—

The Nine of Hearts in your pocket is impossibly heavy. You turn away to steel yourself.

( “Yeah, okay, enough lore recap. Jesus, you guys are more of a dick than I am; Read the room and turn that shit off,” Wade chides a passing agent. He gets it. He’d lost Vanessa once, too, and he’s not quite sure even he can relive that pain. )

“Mais non, y’not makin’ no sense t’me,” Remy says, confused, “I’ve got memories; means I’ve got history jus’ like my Variants. How y’gon’ explain that?”

“Gaps of memories you have— knowledge of places, people, events— that comes from fixed synchronicities shared in your Temporal Aura across all your Multiversal Variants.”

She’s met with slow, owlish blinks. Wade waves his hand in lazy dismissal.

“Forgive them. They didn’t watch Loki Season One or Two. Not that it matters, anyway. People barely understood what was going on.”

A sigh. “There’s no way to put this gently, Mr LeBeau,” B-15 concludes, tone dipping into something sympathetic. “But what I’m trying to say is that: you don’t have a Universe to go back to, because it never existed.”

She purses her lips as she catches his torn gaze. “I’m sorry.”

And that— That pisses you off.

“I’m… sorry?” you parrot, stepping forward. “That’s all you can say after everything that’s happened to us? His existence began with the Void, and my Universe was pruned by your agents. Innocent lives gone because your people decided they wanted to play God once upon a damn time—!”

“Pump the hate breaks, you stray,” Wade calls. "Why'd you think I brought the both of you here?"

You reluctantly withdraw.

“I can’t bring you home,” B-15 supplies, matter-of-fact. “But I can find a compatible timeline for you. For both of you. A safe do-over, if you will.”

Wade’s smile is coy.

The ‘Merc with a mouth’ has a home surprisingly… cozy.

Albeit a little tumbledown and messy with its wallpaper-torn brick walls and creaking hardwood floors— but, it’s charming. Lived in. He has a life here in this rickety two-bedroom apartment; framed photographs of friends and snatches of livelihood sit across dressers and are pasted against his magnet-crowded refrigerator.

Reminds you abit of your home, too.

“Listen,” chirps Wade’s voice, somewhere down the short hall to his room. “My advice? Save yourself the identity crisis and brain aneurysm. All this multiversal horse-crap was created just so that Marvel can write themselves out of any corner. Just sit there and be sexy for the readers, okay, Magic Mike?”

You’re halfway towards them when the doorbell rings.

“Ooh! That must be the pizza I ordered. Or Blind Al. Or Logan.” Wade pops out to sidle past you with a wink and a whispered: “Who knows, really? This is just the part of the story where I conveniently disappear so you and Cajun Tatum here can share a moment.”

You don’t quite understand— but you’ve learned to not bother attempting when it comes to him.

Your knock is soft against the doorframe.

“Hey.”

Beside a lone corner of the bed, Remy turns to look over his shoulder.

He’s fresh out the shower— faded towel tied around his waist, brown hair still damp and dripping water down his bare chest. His old clothes have been draped over a desk chair.

You try not to stare, but—

But.

He’s handsome. Devilishly so, with the bruises sweeping across the flex of all his stupidly lean, corded muscles.

You always had a thing for roguish-looking men.

“Hi,” he says, knowingly. ( It’s a dulcet croon, if anything. Cheeky bastard. ) “Y’okay? Got y’self cleaned up.”

Remy watches you gather yourself with a quick clear of your throat, pull at the sleeves of the scratchy hoodie you’re now wearing that’s practically swallowing you whole.

You look rested. At ease.

…Pretty.

“Yeah. Showered. We don’t smell like ass anymore, that’s for sure,” you say, making a face.

And then you’re nodding over to the black-and-blue contusions blooming over his skin. “You know, I’m sure there’s something frozen in the icebox for that.”

“Icebox?”

You smile. “Yeah, that’s what you guys call it in Louisiana, right?”

“That we do, chèr,” he laughs. But it’s ducked down, quiet. Thin. “ ‘Least, I think so.”

You follow his downcast eyes to a small stack of folders— TVA files he easily thieved (unsurprisingly) from under their noses the moment he stepped foot into the room.

He’d skimmed the manila dossiers: Absolute Points. Anchor Beings. Variant Anomalies. Some names he’d recognised and some he didn’t, most stamped or blacklisted.

Pietro Maximoff. Edward Brock. Loki Laufeyson.

Remy LeBeau.

Some part of you crumples. It’s one thing to not be able to return to a Universe, and another to not have even had one.

“S’funny,” he chuckles dryly, picking his casefile up with a distant look, “My memories… I thought I’d done gon’ left a whole life behind me the entire time I been stuck in the Void— Friends. Family. An’ turns out the Void’s all I had.”

“Feels like…” he shrugs. Tries to piece his unmoored thoughts into something more cohesive. He’s never felt so horrifically adrift his entire life— whatever ‘entire life’ could mean for him now, anyway— not even when he'd been marooned in the barren wastelands of the Void.

“Feels like I ain’t real. Hell, I don’t know what is real, anymore, chèr. I don’t— I just don’t know. I don't know anythin'."

You shake your head in disagreement nigh instantly.

“No, no.” Pushing off the doorway, you cross the threshold with gentle admonishment lanced over your features. “You’re here. You are real.”

The room is small. The distance you share is… close. Just enough that you catch the scent of peppermint toothpaste and coconut shampoo; Just enough that you can slide the documents out of his hands.

His fingers brush against yours.

He wonders if you’d felt the kinetic trill of energy run through him at the contact.

“Can I be honest, Remy?”

You look up at him.

“Mais oui, chèr. Y’can always be honest wit’ Gambit.”

You wave your hand at the TVA files. “I’m scared as shit being in a new Universe,” you blurt, truthfully. “This second chance means… a new life. New path. New everything. I don’t know what that’s like either and frankly, I am not prepared for this at all.”

You pause for a breath. “But for what it’s worth? I’m glad that you’re here. That’s… That’s about the only thing that I know.”

Then, as if dwarfed by the sheer vulnerability in your words, you take an awkward step back as you shrug. “And if you don’t feel the same, well. You and I, we’ll just have to make do, regardless.”

The sudden retreat is painfully endearing. Has him letting out a bright laugh that warms something nestled deep in your ribs.

“I’m glad I got you too, chèr,” he grins.

“Yeah?” You flash a smile, having found your way back to the door.

Remy’s eyes fall to your face— tarrying. He follows the flutter of your lashes, the slope of your cheek, the curl of your lips.

“…Yeah.”

Your idling, fond gaze sears him like a low-grade fever.

The thrum buzzes in hands, again.

Your Gambit really was blind, he thinks, just as you slip away and disappear around the corner.

His palm flexes open, and shut.

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dagr8fm · 2 years

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@theryanshowfm is back in action! The boys reunited for the first time in 2023 to justify the use of steroids, investigate the reemergence of the stereotypical Italian American, and talk about our near death experiences. New York’s own @tonyslice joined us to help us rediscover our Italian roots and promote his upcoming charities with @viralmusictv. All this and more on another edition of The Ryan Show FM! Follow the gang @ryanverneuille @hamptonsdave @mrcheekstv & @deejaykhalil for more content and weekly updates! This week's presentation is brought to you by @gruntworksmc 🐮 #theryanshow #theryanshowfm #mrcheeks #hamptonsdave #ryanverneuillle #deejaykhalil #fmradio #comedyradio #sagharbor #gruntworks #alphametaverse #alphacoin #tonyslice Episode Playlist: Styles P ft Method Man & Redman - Good Times Wu Tang Clan - Clan In Da Front Redman - Slap Da Sh*t Outcha Capone N Noreaga ft The Lox & Tragedy - 3 On 3 Jay-Z ft Damian Marley - Bam Lucki Mazi ft Mr. Cheeks - Sexuation DJ Views ft El Da Sensei & Celph Titled - Bar Spittin Lost Boyz - Lifestyle of the Rich and Shameless Notorious B.I.G. ft Method Man - The What Deejay Khalil - TRS FM Mix 01/12/2023 Lost Boyz - Renee (Soundtrack Version) 2pac - Hail Mary https://www.instagram.com/p/CnUbdDlLIPq/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#theryanshow #theryanshowfm #mrcheeks #hamptonsdave #ryanverneuillle #deejaykhalil #fmradio #comedyradio #sagharbor #gruntworks #alphametaverse #alphacoin #tonyslice

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cesium-sheep · 2 years

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arin said I can have pizza in exchange for getting the gruntwork for her application done today/tomorrow. (even though I would do it anyway and she’d also probably get me pizza anyway.)

#also she said she feels much better about her chances for her first choice this time than she did last time #so we might get to just. go home completely.#but as long as we're in washington or oregon I can stay with matt for a couple weeks during the move.#(I say today/tomorrow cuz I already did part of it today)#(altho she also did a big chunk of gruntwork today)#(as well as all the actual her-specific work she's gotten done on it over the past few months)

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dailyadventureprompts · 1 year

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Random mechanics idea: The problem with mechanics like weapon durability, encumbrance, supplies, lighting etc. is that they add a lot of busywork only to make the game more unpleasant to play. If we want to include these type of systems in our games, we're going to need to figure out a spoon full of sugar to help the mechanical medicine go down, and I think a large part of that is giving the party toys we can take away when needed, rather than imposing unnecessary restrictions.

A computer can easily handle an infinite amount of gruntwork behind the scenes but there's a reason that every system introduced with the intent of artificially creating "challenge" or "realism" is thought up by dms who spend a lot more time theorycrafting on forums than they do telling enjoyable stories: Trying to implement these sort of systems at the table effectively forces the party to stop any fun they might be having to do boardgame taxes...which really makes sense when you learn that Gygax worked in insurance around the time he was dreaming up d&d.

I put this all together after spending a whole evening scouring the internet for a worthwhile weapon durability system. None of them were actually FUN or story enhancing, instead asking players to do varying amounts of busy work (sometimes counting dozens of interaction and adding three or extra dice rolls per weapon swing) to hold with a DM's desire for arbitrary complexity.

Returning to the idea of giving fun benefits rather than messing with fundamentals, I've seem far too many attempts at a "blood magic" system that makes casters have to spend HP to do their basic spells, when really the exact same could be accomplished by allowing the player to earn a boon that gives them their con bonus in bonus spellslots that could be used to upcast their spells.

The same goes for durability: rather than having to create an umbrella mechanic that applies to every weapon ever, slowing down EVERY swing, make it something that the fighter manages on their own, learning to keep their weapon in tip-top shape by spending a precious hitdie during a short rest to grant their weapon an additional damage die (which goes away if they roll a nat 1), and letting players and monsters break weapons as part of a combat action.

The opt in nature is essential here, because it rewards players who want more mechanical complexity without slowing down the whole game.

Now the question is if I can figure out a way to make the ever cumbersome encumbrance rules actually fun to play with.

#homebrew mechanic #d&d mechanics #dapper digresses

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strwberri-milk · 9 months

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Can I get Tighnari, Childe, and Thoma (separately) reacting to the reader getting elezar? Thank you

When he finds out that you're sick he immediately starts hunting down what he can do for you. His first concern is going to be how to make sure you're comfortable, not wanting to make your condition worse by not supporting you effectively.

Tighnari knows the most about the illness, or has an easier time getting information about elezar. He knows that there are clinics that specialise around the illness and knows which one to bring you to for help, either taking the medications home with him to administer or coming with you for every appointment to make sure he can figure out what to do.

Thoma and Childe have a harder time achieving the same goal, knowing that they'd have to go to Sumeru to help you get better. Thoma has an easier time, able to be pardoned for the time being from his duties at the Kamisato household and even given extra funds to help aid your recovery. Childe figures out a way to get assigned to Sumeru, even if it's just doing gruntwork for another harbringer because it means he can stay close to you during your recovery.

He's always worried about you, mind distracted whenever you cough or tell him you're a little too tired to go out with him today he can't help but think that today might be your last good day. It doesn't matter if it's just a fluke or if you just didn't sleep well - he can't help but be nervous when it comes to an illness that research can't really point at anything definitively.

He also tries to keep your days light, not wanting you to dwell too much on what could happen and instead focus on what you'll do when you recover. He's doing it both for your sake and his, not wanting to worry about what he'll do when you're gone.

When elezar miraculously disappear he can't help but cry at your bedside. He's ecstatic that you're better and that the condemnation you thought you were doomed to is no longer. He helps nurse you back to full strength after all the bedrest you've been doing, holding you tightly and refusing to be away from you for fear that it's too good to be true. It takes him a while to fully adjust but you don't mind, knowing that it helps his peace of mind to stay this close to you.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #tighnari x reader #childe x reader #thoma x reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader

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irvingcoded · 18 days

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freed some rambling litving thoughts from earlier off my priv and figured i might as well share them here as well... (transcribed below the read more + cleaned up slightly for readability!)

something about the li(t)ving dynamic to me is just so... LIKE jirv is probably one of the very few people on either ship who unreservedly seems to respect and value little's leadership and instincts (the amount of times the two of them exchange Significant Eye Contact alone...!) , probably in a big part because it seemed as if crozier during that period of time mostly relayed any real info/orders thru his inner circle which, of the lieutenants, only really included little (& jopson of course). compare that to how we mostly saw hodge & irv getting tasked with gruntwork and relatively simple errand boy tasks while little otoh regularly got shouldered with 3 lieuts worth of responsibility instead, INCLUDING having to basically be hodgson & irving's de facto command in lieu of crozier ever communicating much with either them directly or trusting them with tasks they'd absolutely have been capable of.

so anyway yes, imo jirv would very likely follow him anywhere if it came down to it. and as a ship i am always Thinking About like... sub top little and jirv very gently domming him by just being very nice to him and telling him how handsome and special and good he is, but also taking over the decision making if/when little is too stressed to focus... but at the same time still trynna encourage him to express what he wants and what he's thinking (yes yes, pot meet kettle etc) because maybe other people don't really listen to him or take him seriously enough but jirv does...

(& then also the reverse too because little is surely more aware than anyone that's kind of how crozier(/command in general) treats hodgson and jirving for most of the expedition as well)

AND YES MOST OF THIS CAN SIMILARLY APPLY TO ANY COMBINATION OF LIEUTENANTCULE TBH but thats why they're so great...!! they definitely share some overlapping weaknesses here and there, but put the 3 of them (or even just any 2 of them!) together and they balance each other out almost perfectly because when one of them is struggling then the other(s) can and usually will step up to compensate

#🍓#litving #nedving #jirv posting #gaz coming out of the well to share their meta #the transcription is a lil bit more elaborate bc i didn't have to constantly abbreviate everything to fight the character limit #anyway this is their dynamic. to ME

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