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pikapeppa · 4 years

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Samson/f!Hawke smut: Hate

The title says it all. 😂 In all seriousness though, I present to you Samson and @schoute ‘s Roman Hawke and their first time having sex.

Kink warning: some BDSM-ish undertones. Also featuring angst! And feels even though Roman would definitely punch you in the throat for suggesting she has any!

~7000 words. Read on AO3 instead.

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Bullshit, Roman thought. This is all fucking bullshit.

She pushed open the door to the Hanged Man and skulked inside with a scowl. Despite her attempts to be discreet, the noise in the room immediately dimmed, then returned to normal volume — a volume that was enhanced, unfortunately, by murmurs about her.

“Look, there she is! It’s Hawke!”

“Maker, she looks right pissed.”

“She always looks that way, you idiot.”

“More’n usual though, eh? If I’d come back alive from the deep roads with treasure up to me ears, I think I’d be a sight happier than that.”

Roman sneered. Hang the fucking treasure, she thought. As far as she was concerned, the treasure wasn’t worth the shit that she, Varric, Anders and Isabela had been through during the past few months of being stuck in that ancient thaig. If she was being honest, though, the seemingly-interminable trek through the deep roads wasn’t what was really enraging her.

She didn’t say any of this, though. She didn’t look at or speak to anyone. She made a beeline straight to the bar and sat on the corner stool, then gave the bartender a forbidding don’t-fucking-ask look as she waved him over.

He swallowed visibly as he drew near. “Evening, Hawke. What’ll you—”

“Whiskey. Neat. Cheapest you’ve got,” Roman said. She pulled a gold royal out of her coin pouch and placed it on the bar. “And keep it coming.”

The bartender’s eyes widened at the small fortune. “R-right away!” he said, and he snatched the coin from the bar. A moment later, he placed a stein on the bar and poured her a measure of whiskey, then placed the bottle in front of her.

She nodded wordlessly and gulped down the whiskey in two big swallows. It burned on the way down in a bad, shitty-liquor sort of way that would leave her throat sore in the morning, but the abrasive burn suited her mood perfectly.

She poured herself another generous drink, then plonked her elbows on the bar and moodily sipped from her stein. The Hanged Man was as lively as she remembered, half-lit by lantern light and noisy with music and shouting and drunken laughter, and it was…

Fucking surreal, she thought. That’s what this was. It was surreal that life could go on so unchanged here in Kirkwall, while everything about Roman’s life felt like it had been upended yet again for the umpteenth time.

In truth, she didn’t even really want to be here. But there was nowhere else for her to go. She didn’t want to go back to Gamlen’s right now; she was fucking sick of her family’s shit. There was Gamlen bitching and whining about not getting a cut of the treasure that Roman had brought back, and Leandra’s passive-aggressive bullshit about Roman being gone so long, and Carver…

The anger pulsed in her ears at the thought of Carver. She took a deep breath to try and calm herself, then gulped down the rest of her drink and poured another.

She could go to the Amell mansion now that it officially belonged to her family again. But frankly, she was sick of thinking about the fucking mansion. It was all she’d been thinking about for the past couple of weeks as they made their way back to Kirkwall from the ass-end of nowhere that Bartrand had left them for dead. She’d kept her mind on that mansion, on the fact that that was the reason she’d gone to the fucking deep roads and that she was going to get that fucking mansion back if it killed her. And now that she’d done it, the last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near the place.

She couldn’t go to Gamlen’s and she couldn’t go to the mansion, and she’d be damned before she asked Fenris or Merrill or anyone else for a place to crash for the night. So that left the Hanged Man. As long as she had her bottle of whiskey, she’d be just fine right here, thank you very much.

She sipped her drink and closed her eyes to try and get a measure of peace, but a second later, someone spoke to her.

“Hey,” Varric said.

She opened her eyes and glanced at him. “No offense, Varric, but I’m pretty sick of seeing your face.” She turned back to the bar and lifted her stein to her lips. “You’re better off leaving me alone.”

He huffed, impervious as always to her moods, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “So I guess that’s a no to joining us for a hand of wicked grace?”

She glanced over his shoulder. Merrill, Anders, Isabela, and a handful of other random people were sitting at a table at the back and clearly waiting for Varric’s return.

Roman snorted and turned back to face the bar. “Not fucking likely. Sorry,” she added as an afterthought. It wasn’t Varric’s fault that her family were a bunch of ungrateful assholes.

He patted her elbow. “No sweat. See you later.” He left her alone once more.

She shook her head slightly and sipped her drink. She’d never understand Varric’s constant ability to be around people — to find comfort in other people’s company. Comfort in the bottom of a bottle, sure. Comfort from being around others? That had never been Roman’s thing.

Although if she was honest, there was one kind of ‘comfort’ that she wouldn’t mind getting from someone right now. A physical comfort she hadn’t had since long before their trip to the deep roads, and the lack of which was probably not helping her mood.

And if Roman was being really, really honest with herself, there was only one person she really wanted to get that kind of ‘physical comfort’ from.

Samson. She hadn’t seen him since a week or so before they’d left for the deep roads. She hadn’t told him she was leaving, because why the fuck would she, but… it had been a while since she’d seen him. Not that she cared how he was doing or anything. Not that she’d been imagining his sarcastic smile or the way he studied his dirty nails when he was making his snarky remarks or anything like that.

Don’t think about him, she thought. He’s just a dirty beggar from Darktown. He doesn’t matter. He’s nobody. She pushed away the unwelcome thought of Samson’s weary bloodshot eyes and finished off her drink, then poured herself a fourth.

She was staring vacantly at the wall and nursing the dregs of her fourth whiskey when she smelled it: a warm and woody musk, overlaid with the distinct twang of lyrium. At first, she was sure she must be imagining it — conjuring his distinct scent in her mind since it had been so long. A second later, however, she heard his voice.

“I hear congratulations are in order, Lady Hawke,” Samson drawled.

Her heart stopped for a split second, then burst into a gallop. With great care, she shot him a venomous look. “Don’t fucking call me that. And what, now you remember my actual name?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Bird,” he said casually. He sat on the stool beside her — a bold move, since anyone with half a brain knew to give Roman a wide berth whenever she was in this sort of mood. Which, to be frank, was more often than not.

She sneered at him, then lifted her stein to her lips. “If you’re looking for a handout, go look somewhere else. I’m not in the mood.”

He leaned his elbows on the bar. “Like I’d take a handout from you, anyway. A man’s got his pride.”

She scoffed loudly. “Like hell you have. I’ve given you coin more times than I can count.”

He chuckled softly — that gritty little heh-heh-heh that never failed to set her nerves on edge while also bringing them sparking to life. “Ah, I guess you’re right,” he said. “Guess I shouldn’t slander the wench who keeps me in the dust.” He leaned toward her with a smirk. “I’d almost think you’re soft for me, Bird.”

She wrinkled her nose and leaned away from him. “Get away from me. You smell.” It didn’t matter that she liked his unwashed-manly-man scent. That wasn’t the point.

He clicked his tongue and shifted away from her. “Maker’s balls, you’re cranky. Is that how you treat someone who wants to buy you a drink to celebrate your fancy ladyship?”

She glared at him. “I’m not a fucking lady. And how d’you know about that, anyway?” Only this afternoon had she filed the paperwork to reinstate the nobility of the Amell name and to get the mansion back. If she wasn’t already drunk, she’d probably be a lot more pissed that he knew her personal business.

“Ears and eyes, Bird,” Samson said. “People low down hear lots of things from up top.”

His expression was knowing and sly. Roman rolled her eyes. “You’re full of shit. Especially since I know you’re not here to buy me a drink. You have no coin, remember?”

He grunted an acknowledgement. “Eh. I’ve no coin, it’s true. Guess you’re right.”

She stared flatly at him and waited for him to say more, but when he just sat there staring back at her with his surprisingly pretty grey eyes, she tsked and waved to the bartender.

“Give me another stein,” she said.

The bartender placed a stein in front of her, and she poured some whiskey into it and shoved it in Samson’s direction. “Here,” she said roughly. “You’ve got your fucking handout. Happy now?”

“Sure am,” he said. He picked up the stein and tapped it against hers, then took a sip.

They sat at the bar in silence for a while sipping their drinks, and to Roman’s surprise, she could feel some of the perpetual tension leaving her shoulders. When she got to the bottom of her stein, she shot Samson a resentful look. “Seriously, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Having a drink,” he said. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

She shot him a dirty look, then looked away at the wall. Then Samson spoke again. “You were gone a long time, Bird.”

“I know bloody well how long I was gone, all right?” she snapped.

He ignored her tone, as usual. “What happened?” he asked.

She spun toward him. “None of your fucking business!” she barked.

He held up one hand lazily. “All right, all right. Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” he said, and he sipped his drink again.

Roman fumed silently and tapped her fingers on the bar. Then she shot him another venomous glare. “We got trapped in the deep roads, all right? That’s what happened. If you have to know.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Maker’s balls. That must’ve been good.”

“It was shit,” she said bluntly. “The deep roads are shit.”

Samson nodded slowly. “Sorry to hear that. You came back with coin though, eh?”

The anger simmering in her stomach suddenly burst into boil. Before she could stop herself, the anger was pouring out of her mouth in a stream of vitriol. “Is that all you fucking care about?” she yelled. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You heard I came back to town with a bunch of fucking treasure from the deep roads, so you thought you’d come here and leech off of me like you always do?”

Samson stared at her in silence. He looked angry but also oddly calm, and only then did Roman realize she was on her feet and aggressively in his face.

Very close to his face, actually. His nose was a mere couple of inches from hers. She could smell the harsh whiskey and the even harsher lyrium on his breath, and the harsh perfume of it sent a flood of heat through her body.

“Sit down, Bird,” he said, very quietly.

Her pounding heart thudded even more loudly in her ears. “Don’t you tell me what to do,” she snarled.

His expression didn’t change. “Roman, sit down.”

Roman. He knew her first name. He knew her first name? Nobody except Varric and the others knew her first name, and nobody called her by it. How did Samson know her name?

She stared at him for a moment. Then she sat and belligerently grabbed his drink. “Fuck you,” she said, and she finished his drink before shoving the empty stein back toward him.

He calmly picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured himself another drink. For another long, tense minute, they sat there in silence as Roman breathed slowly and tried to get her temper — and her libido — back under control.

Samson eventually spoke again. “What’s got you so pissed then, eh? You’re worse company than usual.”

She took another deep breath. Then, for some reason, she actually told him why she was angry. “While I was trapped in the bloody deep roads, my fucking brother went and joined the Templars.”

Samson lifted an eyebrow, then barked out a laugh. “Fallen in with my lot, has he?”

“They’re not your lot. They threw you out, remember?” Her tone sounded sarcastic to her own ears, and she was too drunk to know if she was trying to be cruel or kind by saying this to him.

He huffed and lifted the stein to his lips. “Thanks a lot, Bird.”

I guess I was being cruel, then, she thought. To her surprise, her gut churned with a twist of guilt.

She hunched her shoulders. “Don’t fucking pout. You’re better off without them.”

“Am I?” he said archly. “You’re sure about that?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “They’re… they’re fucking prison guards. Glorified prison guards who think their lyrium addiction is a boon from the Maker. Who doesn’t exist, by the way,” she added vindictively, “but what the fuck do I know.”

Samson smirked. “Better watch your mouth, or someone’ll cut those pretty lips off for speaking ill of the Chantry.”

Pretty lips? she thought vaguely. She grabbed his stein and took another sip before plonking it on the bar once more. “They can bloody well try. They’ll lose more than just their lips if they do.”

He let out a raspy laugh that made her blood simmer. “Ah, Bird. Kirkwall’s a lot more lively now you’re back.”

She snorted in disgust, then idly picked at the red kerchief around her wrist. “Why did the Templars throw you out, anyway?”

He shot her a sideways look. “Maybe that’s none of your business.”

His tone was mocking. Roman tsked and looked away. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I don’t fucking care.”

There was a brief silence as Samson nursed his drink. When his whiskey was gone, he pushed the stein away. “There was this one mage in the Circle,” he said. “Kid named Maddox. Quiet kid, nice, like most of ‘em were. He had a piece here in the city, so I’d bring letters back and forth for them sometimes.” He poured himself another drink. “It was all going fine, you know, wasn’t hurting anyone. But that bitch Meredith disagreed. Called it ‘fraternizing between a Templar and a mage’ and threw me out of the Order, and well… here we are.” He gestured sarcastically at himself.

Roman stared at him, stunned by his tale. “Seriously?” she said. “That’s why you got thrown out? For passing love notes between a mage and some city kid?”

“That’s it, yeah,” Samson said. He shot her a suspicious look. “Why? What did you think I’d done?”

“I… I don’t know,” she said blankly. “Fucked a mage. Raided a lyrium store or something. I don’t fucking know.”

He scowled. “I don’t fuck children or prisoners, Bird. And I was a good little Templar who stuck to my lyrium rations back then. Not like now.” He let out a humourless chuckle. “Nowadays, I’m just a broken old man who’d do just about anything to get a hit of the dust.”

That thought made her stomach lurch. The thought of Samson debasing himself for a hint of lyrium, all because the fucking Knight-Commander didn’t like him passing notes between a mage and his lover…

And now Carver had gone to join the Templars. He’d joined that corrupt, fucked-up, power-hungry faction of Chantry assholes that Roman hated so much — that would throw Roman herself into the Circle if they ever found out about her magic. Her own younger brother joining the Templars, willingly giving himself over to get addicted to lyrium like Samson had done…

She swallowed hard, then reached into her coin pouch and grabbed a handful of coin. “Here,” she said, and she slapped it onto the bar in front of him.

Samson’s face went slack with surprise. He hastily covered the coin — and her hand — with his own hand. “What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?” he hissed.

His palm was callused and warm. She hastily pulled her hand away from him and jerked her chin at the coin. “Take it. I don’t need it.”

He quickly swept the coin off the counter and into his hand. “You can’t go flashing around your coin in ‘ere like that,” he scolded quietly. “You want to get your throat cut on your way home?”

Roman laughed nastily. “They can try. I’ll cut them first.”

Samson lowered his voice even more. “How?” he demanded. “You going to use your filthy blood magic tricks on ‘em?”

“Shut up,” Roman hissed. “Don’t talk about that here!”

“Then don’t go swinging your coin around like you’ve got something to prove,” he retorted.

His bossy tone sparked the ever-present simmer of rage in her belly. She slowly rose to her feet and gave Samson a hard stare. “Stop telling me what to do,” she said.

He glared at her, uncowed. “Then stop acting like a stupid bitch without a brain in her head.”

She took a threatening step closer to him. “Fuck you, Samson,” she gritted.

To her surprise, he leaned toward her until his shoulder was almost brushing her chest. “Make me, Bird,” he whispered harshly.

Suddenly, it felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach, leaving her dizzy and disoriented and thrumming with unfettered rage — a heated sort of rage that was reaching into her palms and pounding in her ears and pulsing between her legs.

She stared furiously into his bloodshot yet oddly clear grey eyes. Her breaths were sharp and angry in her ears, breaths that became increasingly sharp as her lungs were filled with his warm and earthy scent.

She shoved away from the bar and stormed toward the door, stumbling slightly as she did, then burst into the relative cool of Lowtown’s nighttime air. She started striding toward… fuck, she had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that he hated Samson. She fucking hated him, with his obnoxious little laugh and his mage sympathies and the way he always warned her to be careful with her fucking blood magic like he gave a shit what could happen if she was caught–

A hand grabbed her arm, and she instinctively spun toward her assailant and swung at them. “Don’t fucking touch me!” she yelled.

“Shut your mouth,” Samson snapped. He grabbed her waist and shoved her toward a nearby alley.

She struggled in his grip, surprised and turned on by how strong he was. Wait, turned on? No she wasn’t, she wasn’t turned on. She fucking hated him. “Let go of me,” she railed, and she twisted her arm. “Let me go–”

He roughly shoved her into the alley and penned her against the wall with his body. “Shut up, Bird,” he hissed, and he covered her mouth with his hand.

His hand was hot and callused against her lips, and the thrumming heat in her blood surged to a dizzying degree. Incensed by his grip on her mouth, she bit his hand.

His face twisted in a grimace of pain, but he didn’t let her go. “Listen,” he hissed.

For a second, she stopped struggling and listened, and she immediately heard what had prompted his behaviour: the sound of three male voices in the street, discussing her.

“She’s got enough coin to throw down on the bar like that, she’s got enough for all of us. We’ll just beat her, take it and go.”

“You got shit for brains or something? We can’t leave Hawke alive. That bitch has friends in the Viscount’s Keep. She’s friends with that Tethras asshole, and you know that he knows people in the Carta. We’ve got to kill her and get rid of the body.”

“Kill Hawke? You know she’s a mage, right?”

“Nug shit. That’s a fucking rumour.”

“Look, who cares if she’s a mage? Just means she’s even easier to beat up. Mages got weak bodies, see? And I don’t know ‘bout you, but I didn’t see no staff on her. Let’s just kill her, take her coin and be done.”

The rage surged again in Roman’s ears, and her blood hummed in the way it always did when violence was on the horizon. Let them try, she thought. Let them fucking try, I dare them. She punched Samson in the belly so he’d let her go.

He grunted softly, but instead of releasing her, he grabbed her wrist and pinned it firmly against the wall, then stepped closer until she was squished between his body and the wall.

Roman stopped breathing. His body against hers was wiry and hard and — oh fuck, Maker’s fucking balls, there was one part of him that was particularly hard, and it was pressing into her belly, just above the waistband of her knee-length skirt.

He pressed his lips to her ear. “You’re not fighting them tonight, Bird,” he whispered harshly. “They’re too damned big, and you’re too damned drunk.”

His whisper sent a shiver down her spine. She twisted her face in his grip, desperate to retort that she wasn’t too fucking drunk and that she wasn’t going to let those assholes get away with talking shit about her, but Samson’s grip on her face was implacable.

With some difficulty, she bit his palm again, and when that only prompted another pained grunt, she licked his palm.

He exhaled against her ear. “Bloody Maker’s balls,” he breathed. “Give it a rest, will you?”

His voice had a certain growl to it now, a growl that echoed his earlier taunt to ‘make me’... and suddenly she was lightheaded, her blood humming with rage and unleashed power, pounding an angry beat in her ears and her throat and between her legs where she wanted that thick hardness of his to go.

She licked his palm again. He groaned quietly against her ear, and her eyes fluttered shut. The three thugs were still talking distantly, but Roman didn’t hear them; all she could hear was Samson breathing in her ear, and all she could think about was the ridge of his cock against her belly and the salt of his hand on her tongue…

She twisted her hips and scratched his chest with her free hand, and Samson grunted in her ear. “You fucking wildcat,” he snarled. “Would you quit until they’re gone?”

She shook her head as much as she could and scratched his chest again, wishing that she was able to score his skin directly instead of scraping at him through his shirt. Then he suddenly bit her neck just below her ear.

She gasped into his palm. A rush of warmth bloomed between her legs, and she realized with a jolt how wet she was.

Samson bit her again, then bit the side of her ear. “You get what you give, Bird,” he whispered. “Now stand bloody well still.”

Never, she thought viciously. She scratched him and tried to pull her wrist from his grip and curled her hips toward his cock, and Samson just stood there with his wiry body shoved against her and his mouth panting hotly against her neck and his surprisingly strong hands holding her in place, and all the while the thugs were standing in the street discussing the best way to kill her.

I hate them, she raged internally. I hate those assholes, and I hate this city, and I really, really fucking hate Samson. She twisted and struggled, and the eagerness pooled through her smallclothes to paint the inner margins of her thighs, and she was so distracted by how much she hated and wanted him that she didn’t notice when the thugs went away.

When Samson suddenly released her and stepped back, she gasped in a breath and slumped back against the wall. She roughly wiped her mouth and glared viciously at him, only to find him glaring back at her.

His mouth was twisted in a sneer, and his chest was heaving with angry breaths. “What’s your bloody problem?” he demanded. “I was only trying to help you.”

“Well, don’t,” she snapped. “I can look after myself.”

“Not tonight, you couldn’t ‘ave,” he retorted.

“You don’t fucking know me,” she spat. “Don’t try to save me. You don’t — you don’t know me!”

He folded his arms. “I know you gave me a hell of a lot of coin just now for no good reason. Why’d you do that?”

For some reason, her heart twisted painfully. The coin was nothing. It was the least that he deserved. He’d been thrown out on his own to cope with his lyrium addiction just for passing love letters, and the more she thought about it, the more it made her chest hurt.

And the more her chest hurt, the more angry she felt.

“I hate you,” she spat.

His lips melted into a sly smirk, even though the anger remained in the crease of his eyebrows. “That’s not what that skinny little body of yours is saying.”

Her skinny little body pulsed hotly in response to his knowing smirk, and this only made her angrier still. “Fuck you,” she hissed. “Fuck you and fuck off, and – just – fuck you.”

He raised his eyebrows and took a small step closer to her, and her body thrilled at his nearness. Then he took another tempting step closer. “Try again, Bird,” he drawled.

She belligerently lifted her chin. “Fuck. You,” she said, very deliberately.

His smile widened, and he chuckled. Then he planted one hand on the wall beside her head and slid his other hand up the inside of her thigh.

Her lips fell open on a shocked inhale. Then his fingers were lightly petting her through her smalls, and Roman couldn’t help herself: she rocked her hips helplessly toward his hand, suddenly and terribly desperate for the heat of his hand directly against her skin.

He leaned in close and brushed his lips over her ear. “This doesn’t feel like you hate me, Bird.”

“Yes I do,” she gasped. “I hate you, I fucking – oh fuck!” She broke off with a moan; his fingers were pulling the crotch of her smallclothes to the side, and when he pressed his finger directly into her pussy, the pleasure was so acute that it forced her eyes shut.

She leaned her head back against the wall and thrust her hips toward his hand, and Samson grunted against her ear. “You’re a nasty wildcat, you know that?” he whispered. “Trying to fight me off when this is what you were really gagging for.”

She shook her head in a stupid pointless denial, and Samson bit her neck, sending another bone-melting thrill between her legs. “No?” he murmured. “You don’t want this? I should stop then, shouldn’t I?” He started pulling his hand out of her skirt.

Roman grabbed his hand. “No,” she blurted. “Don’t you dare stop, you asshole.”

He smiled and didn’t move his hand. “Or what? What will the rich and fancy Lady Hawke do if I don’t finish ‘er off?”

“I’ll… I’ll bite your fucking finger off,” she threatened. It was a childish threat and Roman knew it, and unfortunately Samson did too; his smile widened into something wicked and slightly vindictive, and he pulled his hand out of her skirt entirely.

Riled and enraged and horribly, desperately incomplete, Roman mewled – actually made a needy sound like a cat in heat. Samson exhaled heavily, then tipped her chin up with the hand that had been in her skirt. “Say it then,” he told her. “Say it, and I’ll do what you want.”

She breathed shallowly and glared at him. His fingers carried her scent — the scent of how much she needed him, whether she wanted to admit it or not, and she really did not want to admit it.

She ignored the throbbing pulse of her clit and sneered at him. “Fuck you.”

He shook his head. “Try again, pretty Bird.”

She curled her lip. She was no one’s pretty bird, especially not his. “Fuck you,” she snarled.

He stepped very close to her and pressed his hips into her belly. “Try again,” he whispered.

Maker’s balls, his cock against her belly, the scent of her own desperation on his hand, the sly smile on his sallow face…

At long last, Roman finally gave in. “Fuck me,” she blurted.

His face lit up, then twisted into an obnoxiously satisfied smile. “All right then,” he said. A second later, his hand was inside of her skirt and he was pulling her smallclothes down and fuck, fuck, he was kneeling at her feet to drag her smalls down to her ankles. Then he was shoving up her skirt and oh fuck, oh Maker’s balls, he was pushing her legs apart and she hadn’t expected this–

Samson ran his tongue between her legs, and a shiver of pleasure made her entire body twitch. She slammed her head back against the wall and gasped. Then he was stroking her clit with long laps of his tongue, and Roman couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t breathe. In this dim and dank alley, she could barely even see, but none of that mattered. All she could do was feel: feel the wet heat of his tongue sliding into her folds and piercing through the lust-slicked flesh to lave her swollen bud. All she cared about was the feeling that his tongue was lifting between her legs, this unbelievable hum of pleasure the likes of which she hadn’t felt in months, too many months — too many months during which she’d thought about Samson and his hideous raspy laugh and his awful smirking mouth, and how much she absolutely, completely, utterly hated him…

He gently tugged her clit between his lips, and her climax struck so suddenly that it took her by surprise. Her knees buckled and her fingers scrabbled against the wall for purchase, and when Samson’s hand snapped up to grip her hip, she convulsively grabbed his hand and stared unseeingly at the opposite wall, her mind rendered to unthinking slag by the waves of pleasure that were crashing through her body.

Supported by his hand on her hip, she shuddered and tried to drag in a breath through the rapture, but the pleasure was striking all the way up to her throat, and she couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t until the pulsing of pleasure began to wane that she was able to pull in a lungful of air.

She held her breath for a second, then released it in a moan. “You’re an asshole,” she breathed. “Now fuck me already.”

He scoffed and rose to his feet. “Is that how you thank the man who made you come so hard you almost fell down?”

His base words struck a fresh bolt of desire in her blood. “I did not. And it wasn’t that good,” she lied.

“That hurts, Bird,” he said dryly. “You can be a real bitch sometimes.”

“Well, you can be a real fucking dick,” she retorted. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants and pulled him closer, then started roughly unbuckling his belt.

He laughed, and there was something about the quality of his laugh that made something squeeze deep inside her core. “Guess we’re a good match, then,” he said.

“Shut up,” she snapped. She ripped open his trousers and pulled out his cock, then stroked it firmly with her fist.

He grunted and thrust into her hand. Satisfied, Roman released him and started to turn around so he could fuck her from behind, but he grabbed her arm and shoved her back against the wall once more.

“What the fu–” She broke off with a gasp; his hand was at her throat and pressing her back into the wall.

He shoved her skirt up with his other hand and stepped closer. “Lift your leg, Bird,” he gritted. “Get up on your toes.”

His growling commands, his hand at her throat, the tantalizing brush of his cock against her belly: it was too tempting, too overwhelmingly good, and she eagerly lifted her left leg. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” she panted.

He released her throat and hooked his arm beneath her left knee to spread her wide, then firmly gripped her waist. “If you don’t like it, maybe you shouldn’t listen so well, Bird,” he grunted. He bent his knees slightly, then thrust up into her in a swift hard stroke.

Stars burst behind her eyes, and a guttural cry burst from her throat. Samson groaned, then pressed his forehead to hers and pumped his hips, driving his cock deep inside of her at a nearly-vertical angle that was making her deepest inner muscles quake.

Roman gasped and whimpered, distantly aware that she shouldn’t be making this much noise but unable to stop the sounds from leaving her throat as Samson fucked her hard and deep. The angle of his cock, the rhythm of it and the familiar lyrium tang of his breath and the manly musk of his body: all of it was conspiring to bring her toward another climax that threatened to be even stronger and more mind-melting than the first.

Samson thrust into her. “Come on, Bird,” he grunted. “Come for me so I can bend you over and fuck you from behind.”

Yes, she thought deliriously. The thought of him pushing her face-first against the wall and taking her from behind was so good, so fucking hot, it was what she wanted, just as much as she wanted his hard thick cock driving into her right now to bring her higher, just a little higher, oh fucking fuck yes–

Her climax exploded from her core through her whole body, from her throat all the way down to her toes. She cried out as she came, and Samson sealed his lips over hers in a kiss.

She jolted, shocked by his kiss and even more shocked when he delved his tongue smoothly into her mouth, but the shock wasn’t enough to stop the orgasm from ratcheting through her blood. She permitted his kiss, permitted the slide of his lips and the rasp of his stubble across her chin, and when her orgasm began to ebb, she bit his tongue.

He gasped in pain and stumbled back, pulling his cock free from her body in the process. He lifted a hand to his mouth, then spat a blood-tinged gobbet on the ground and glared at her. “What the fuck, Bird?” he demanded.

“Don’t kiss me,” she snapped.

His face twisted with frustration. “What is your problem? What do you want from me?”

He sounded genuinely frustrated, and for a second, Roman’s gut twisted. Because that was the question, wasn’t it? What did she want from him?

Fuck this, she thought, and she ruthlessly shoved the troubling thought aside. “I want you to fuck me hard from behind like you said,” she told him. She raised her eyebrows in challenge. “Or was that all talk?”

His face twisted with anger. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. That’s what you want, is it? Fine.” He stepped forward and grabbed her hips, then roughly turned her around and pushed her against the wall.

She gasped with excitement and flattened her palms on the cool bricks. Then Samson was pulling her hips back to bend her slightly at the waist, and Roman eagerly arched her spine to take him.

“Fine,” he grunted, and he slammed himself deep inside of her. “You want me to just fuck you hard like nothing matters, then that’s what you get.”

“Yes,” she gasped. Maker’s balls, yes, that was exactly what she wanted.

He slammed into her again. “You want me to shove myself inside of you and just — just come inside of you like there’s nothing else in the bloody world that matters,” he panted. “Is that it?”

“Yes!” she yelped.

He drove into her again and again. “You want me to pound you into this wall and fill you up with my come so you can feel something good, eh?”

“Fucking fuck, yes!” she cried.

“Good,” Samson grunted. “That’s good, Bird. Because that’s what I want, too.” He placed one hand between her shoulder blades and pulled her hips back, then slammed into her in a furious rhythm.

Roman closed her eyes and gasped raggedly for breath. He was fucking her so hard now that his hips were meeting her ass with the rough smack of skin-on-skin. In the space of a few short minutes, his thrusting cock was filling her up so thoroughly that Roman was almost mindless with bliss, as though she’d been hypnotized by the careful rhythmic slam of his cock inside her body.

He gasped and dug his fingers into her hips, then shuddered and burst inside of her, and Roman let out a long relaxed sigh. When his body stilled, his grip on her hips loosened, and he slowly pulled out of her. A second later, she felt the distinct warmth of his seed escaping her still-tingling pussy and trailing hotly down the inside of her leg.

Slowly and leisurely, she straightened up and turned around, then leaned back against the wall in total exhaustion. Without looking at Samson, she untied the crimson kerchief around her wrist. She usually carried a kerchief to staunch and clean the wounds she got from doing blood magic, but that wasn’t what she’d be using it for tonight.

She reached between her legs and began mopping herself up, and only then did she look at Samson. His cock was tucked away and his trousers back in place, and he was frowning at her.

She scowled and dropped her gaze to her mopping hand. “What?”

“You all right, Bird?” he asked.

His tone was gentle — unnervingly gentle. “I’m fine,” she said curtly. She finished wiping the insides of her thighs, then pulled her smallclothes up. She adjusted her skirt and stepped toward the mouth of the alley, but Samson took hold of her arm.

She pulled her arm away. “Don’t,” she snapped.

He released her and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Was this a one-time thing or what?” he asked.

Her belly flipped. Did he want it to be more than a one-time thing? Did she want it to become more than a one-time thing? Her body was still tingling from the delicious friction of his cock and her body felt looser than it had in… fuck, probably since she’d moved here. Maybe longer, even. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this relaxed.

But even as she realized this, her shoulders started to tense again. This had been a good fuck, but she didn’t want it to become a regular thing. If it became a regular thing, Samson would think that she liked him, and she couldn’t let him think that.

She sneered at him, then shoved her soiled kerchief into his hand. “If I get a rash from you, I’ll come for you and cut your cock off.” She started to push past him, but he stepped in front of her.

She wilted. “What the fuck do you want?” she demanded.

“This wasn’t for the coin, was it?” he said.

She stared at him. “What?” she said dumbly. What coin was he talking about?

Then she remembered — the coin she’d given him at the Hanged Man. She’d almost forgotten about that. “No,” she blurted. “For fuck’s sake, no. What kind of asshole do you take me for?”

His face cleared slightly, but he was still frowning. “Why me, then?”

She stared at him speechlessly for a second; the genuine bemusement in his question made something in her chest ache. Samson had described himself as broken, a broken man who was just living out his remaining shame-filled years in a haze of low-grade lyrium and resentment. But that wasn’t what Roman saw.

She saw someone who’d been punished too many times for his good intentions. Someone who was jaded as hell, but still somehow surviving. Someone who wanted to help others, but had been stepped on too many times for the benefits to outweigh the costs. When Roman looked at Samson, she didn’t see a broken man. She saw a man who’d been kicked down more times than he deserved, but was still surviving with all the strength that his sarcasm and his wits could give him, and… damn it, she didn’t want to like him, but she did.

And the sheer fact that she liked him — that she had such a huge fucking vulnerability — was enough to make her hate him.

She shoved him aside. “Fuck off, Samson,” she said. And without looking back, she stormed out of the alley and back into the dark streets of Lowtown.

#samson #raleigh samson #samson/hawke #samson x hawke #romanson #pikapeppa writes

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misanthropecopy · 3 years

Text

“An island in the... Lental region, you say?” parroted a confused Skystripe, in response towards news Psyche brought.

The village leaders along with legendary Pokemon were currently gathered together, near Mount Quena’s lakebed. When Psyche had finally returned after being missing for two days straight, she was of course greeted by every one of her chosen kin who had fretted over Mewtwo’s whereabouts and condition. Honestly with how much group worried, younger clone was surprised they didn’t annoy Stein because of it. Then again even for the likes of herself, said fellow experiment was hard to read at times. Regardless, she made certain to ease every family member’s anxieties on her absence before proceeding with calling elders into a meeting. Once she informed them on her discovery and wise feline aired his query, unnatural entity nodded.

“Yes. The Lental region itself was recently mostly rediscovered by mankind, so it is not on everyone’s map yet. In fact, from what I was able to find there was only one, active human settlement in the entire archipelago: A small village housing a few families, a professor and some cameramen on Florio island,” Psyche explained. After uttering these words, legendary then projected an image into the elders’ minds. The moving picture she showed was of a lush, beautiful, tropical island amidst region she spoke of. However unlike the other landscapes, this area was encompassed by an electric storm belt and giant, jagged rocks which pierced through ocean’s surface. “This particular island I found in said region has not been touched by humans at all, due to its frequent, violent and electrical storms causing interference with all the transports they send to try and make it there. The fruit there is bountiful, the environment it has can suit all of our needs and I already picked out an ideal spot to where we can set up our base of operations. So...” imagery was then cut off, so that small leaders might focus more on reality. “What do you think?”

A hush fell upon all the leaders, after legendary Pokemon’s presentation. Amethysts could see and powers could sense the consideration, which was quietly brewing betwixt each one of them. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, Tangrowth spoke up.

“Well I for one certainly don’t mind it. It ain’t the village, but it’ll do,” Mama Shrub expressed. “Personally, I’m more concerned about how I’m gonna say goodbye to Wigglytuff. It was fun, sharing our healing techniques with one another. I’m sure many of the little ones will miss playing with those Nidoqueen, Rhyhorn and even Amber too.”

Hearing this, the Braviary besides grass-type sighed. “I know what you mean,” Cassian started. “Me and the other birds enjoyed Pidgeot’s company. It’s always nice, to add in another challenger to our flying races.”

“Yeah, I’ll admit these other Pokemon aren’t so bad. That Gyarados in particular is an absolute riot, to tease,” concurred the Zoroark named Shadowflame.

“Didn’t he try to hyper beam you sorry tricksters out of existence?” questioned Cassian.

At this dark-type snickered. “Heh, yeah. Good times.”

“I have to agree with Shrubbery, on both the island and being fond of those under Stein’s care,” Skystripe interjected. “Discussing philosophical matters with Meowthtwo always seems to enlighten me, in some ways. That being said, I assume every group of Pokemon will be assigned a task to maintain our living on the island?”

Psyche nodded, in reply. “I already have something in mind for each individual and I’ll tell you all, when we arrive there. Before we do that though, we’ll stay here for a little while longer so you can say your goodbyes and prepare to leave. I also have in mind to give Stein and his family something... a little special, to show our gratitude. Now here’s what I need some of you to do...”

Leaning in, Psyche then spoke to her family in a private, telepathic channel, to limn out her idea. When she finished, Tangrowth beamed.

“Psyche, that’s gotta be the most beautiful thing you have ever come up with.”

#IC UPDATE #BEYOND MY LIMITS (ic)#telekinetiq #gooselullaby #littleblaze #popgoesthesneaselreturns #GUEST MUSE: SKYSTRIPE #GUEST MUSE: MAMA SHRUB #GUEST MUSE: SHADOWFLAME #GUEST MUSE: CASSIAN #((tagging ALL the blogs since this decision effect all of them :') ))

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zxanthe · 4 years

Text

magic

super duper ultra mega late entry for @soulxmakaweek day 7. this summer is an extremely busy one. glad i could finish out the week, even if it was late as all hell lmfao

also available on ao3 and ff.net

“So, how was your day?”

“Job hunting not going well, huh.”

“No! I got rejected again. Do you think it’d make a better impression if I put “savior of the world” or something in my header?”

“They probably wouldn’t take you seriously.”

“Well, I did. And they should. I could kick all their asses back to back on my worst day.”

“Yeah, but ass-kicking isn’t exactly required to be like, a bank teller.”

“Uh, robberies?”

“Yeah, okay, you got me there.”

“I’ve been thinking about college, honestly. Ridding the world of madness qualifies you for your GED, right?”

“I’d check the record on that one. They didn’t exactly teach us calculus here, you know.”

“Drat. Well, I’ve still got time, I guess. I’m still trying to figure out what I even want to go to college for.”

“Eh, personally I think college is overrated.”

“Says you, slacker.”

“Listen, if your freakishly large brain got any bigger I think it’d collapse into some kind of nerdy bookworm information singularity.”

“First of all, that’s not even physically possible. Second of all, if you got any lazier you’d melt into a puddle of goo.”

“Demon steel, thanks.”

“I’m talking about your soul, dumdum.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. So, uh. Where are you thinking of going to school, if you do decide to go?”

“Something Ivy League, ideally.”

“That so.”

“Yeah. Got a problem with that?”

“No…”

“Then what’s with that tone? Harvard too snobby for you?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Okay, Mr. Cool Guy Rich Boy.”

“Ugh, don’t lump me in with those people. They all have their heads so far up their own asses, it’s awful.”

“You included!”

“Listen, I was thirteen and I thought I knew everything. I’m much older and wiser now.”

“You still forget to close the fridge door sometimes.”

“Not the point and you know it. Look, what’s wrong with going to college in Vegas or something? You don’t have to spend nearly as much money and plus it’s waaaaay easier to get into.”

“Soul, are you seriously telling me that a community college education is comparable to an Ivy League school?”

“Since when did you become such a snob?”

“I mean, I’m right for thinking that the two are on completely different levels!”

“Yeah, okay, okay. You’re right. Happy? But still, I mean a degree is a degree at the end of the day, isn’t it?”

“Nope. A degree from Harvard could open way more doors. Plus I could rub it in Ox’s stupid face that I got into an Ivy and he didn’t.”

“Heh, true. But like. What could you do there that you couldn’t do here?”

“Harvard is the world leader in soul research, for one thing. I think they’d be super happy to have someone like me work there.”

“Yeah, okay, but consider: DWMA has a lab too.”

“Yes, but here we’re more focused on combat techniques and stuff like that. Besides, Stein just got the research division off the ground like two weeks ago. I’d prefer to go somewhere that’s been around a little bit longer first.”

“How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Hmm…probably since the beginning of the month.”

“How come you didn’t tell me?”

“Because it didn’t occur to me to until now? Get your soul untwisted, geez, it’s not that big a deal.”

“Uh, yeah, it kind of is. You’re talking about moving a hell of a long way away.”

“Well, yeah. It’s something new, and different, and exciting. Not all of us can get paid ridiculous sums of money to go to fancy parties and important diplomatic meetings, you know.”

“…”

“I’m sorry, that was mean. Don’t look at me like that. I know it’s hard on you, with the training, and I know you hate parties. I’m sorry. I’m just. Feeling trapped, I guess. Everyone else is off doing cool things and I’m just. Here, by myself, because you’re gone most of the time anyway.”

“…”

“…I’ll miss you a whole lot. I already miss you a whole lot. We hardly talk anymore.”

“That’s not – “

“It is. You get home after I go to sleep and leave before I wake up. I think the last time we said anything to each other was good morning three days ago before you hurried out the door.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Not much different, then, if you moved 2,000 miles away, huh.”

“It would be very different.”

“…”

“Are you even a little happy for me?”

“Definitely.”

“Thanks.”

“So, uh. If you do go. Don’t forget about us back here, yeah?”

“Of course not. I never could.”

“Well, uh. If you meet some cute boy over there, or something – “

“Soul, wha – “

“Maybe uh. Just. Shit, I’m fucking this up, I’m so sorry, I know we haven’t spoken and I’m an asshole and I’ve really been meaning to say this for a while, but Maka, I uh. I.”

The sun is setting spectacularly in Death City. Orange light lights up the surfaces of the buildings, giving them a soft and faintly unearthly glow. The clouds are suffused with pinks and purples and golds. Across the sky, the moon is rising, an opaque disc blacker than the deepest-buried spaces in the most secret parts of the human heart. The DWMA looms at the city’s pinnacle, its massive white staircase glowing in the dying light. Two tiny figures are visible three-quarters of the way down. The taller one has its hand on the other’s shoulder. Their faces are touching, front to front. They stay like that for infinite moments. In that time the second figure’s hand comes up to tangle itself in the other’s snowy white hair.

Don’t leave me. It’d feel. Empty. Without you here.

“I know. I’d feel it too.”

I’m sorry.

“Don’t be. It’s a big decision. Death City will always be home, though. You’ll always be home. No matter what.”

“We can make it work?”

“Of course. Together we can do anything.”

“You dweeb.”

“You know I’m right. If we can kick a Kishin’s ass this’ll be cake.”

“Heh.”

The sun sets. The moon rises. Two figures descend the rest of the way down the stairs, hand in hand, soul in soul.

I love you.

I love you too.

#soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #soma #soulxmaka #soulxmakaweek #somaweek2020 #soul/maka #se by z #zxanthe writes sometimes

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kodie-ffxiv · 4 years

Text

Prompt# 25: Wish

“To a successful mission, and to our promotions!” The Wild Wood spoke as he held up his drink awaiting for his companion to do the same.

Konnor would do so, as their steins tapped, and immediately the Midlander took a swig. “I still can’t believe it, promoted, and we’ll highly considered for future missions.”

“I mean was there any doubt? We didn’t need our family reps to show how good we are.” Alvant replied. “But I’m sure it’s helping.”

Konnor nodded. “Though our archer deserved a lot of the credit. She was good...very good. Took out most of the bandits.”

“Aye you’re right.” The Elezen took a swig of his own drink. “She’s a brash, loud mouth, but I hadn’t seen any archer fight so fiercely like that. But I also noticed you had your eyes on her a few times.”

Konnor raised an eyebrow and immediately shook his head. “Hey I was making sure to keep my eyes on her at all times, didn’t want her to get into any trouble.”

Alvant smirked at his reply, especially after he saw the Midlander reach behind to rub the back of his neck, something he always does when he gets nervous. “Let’s face it, K. She didn’t need our assistance, she had the job in the bag, you were watching her for other reasons...but speaking of our archer friend...”

The Wild Wood pointed over to the bar, and there sat the red headed Midlander on a stool, to herself with a drink. “You should talk to her, I know you wanna ask her out.”

Konnor’s eyes followed and spotted her, his eyes went wide as he quickly turned away and back to his drink. “Oh no I’m sure she doesn’t want to be bothered or anything like that. I’ll just sit here.” another rub on his neck.

Alvant smirked. “If ya don’t, I’ll go there and tell her how much you wanna date her...may embellish here and there too, you sure you want me to do that?”

The Midlander’s eyes glared at his companion, and then let out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll go, but you keep your mouth shut and stay put.”

Konnor stood up and approached the bar, sitting on the stool next to Eleena’s. “Oh hey, good to see you again...Eleena it was?”

She didn’t turn a glance over to him, only looking down at her drink. “So you two don’t look like buffoons behind those masks huh? Don’t get why you guys wear those masks.”

“Eh you know, it’s to honor the Wood and Elementals. Traditional things here and there. I never gave you my full name..come to think of it, I don’t think I gave you my name at all.”

“Konnor Durant, from the esteemed Durant family. A long line of lancers that goes far back to the Autumn Wars. I like to know whom I’m working with before going out on a mission with them. Wanna make sure they won’t get me killed or anything.” She finally turned to him as her green eyes met his own.

“Oh wow...so you know about me...okay” Yet another rub on the back of his neck, as he chuckled nervously. “I apologize, I don’t seem to know much about you, besides your archer skills which was top notch. Can I at least get your sur name?”

“Don’t have one....it’s just Eleena.” She shurgged. “I spent my childhood and early teens in the Gridania Orphanage. Never got adopted, and joined the Quiver as soon as I was old enough.”

“Oh..” Konnor replied awkwardly, trying to think of something to say to that. “Uhhh..I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Heh sorry? Sorry for what? Eh, guess no one wanted a bratty red headed Midlander, but that’s okay. I was cared for with kindness by the Matron, helped them out as much as I can. Some of my pay from the Quiver goes back to the Orphanage.”

“Well that’s good at least. Very kind of you to think about where you came from.” The Midlander smiled with that hint of awkwardness.

Eleena turned away from Konnor and looked back down at her drinking, taking another swig. “So when are you gonna get past the weird small talk and ask me out?”

“Huh?” Konnor replied with wide eyes, he laughed nervously as his hands once again rubbed the back of his head. “I...well..what makes you think I was gonna ask you out?”

“Don’t act cute with me, Durant. I saw you eyeing me like a dumbfounded pup when we were at the camp, and if you didn’t think I wasn’t listening to you and Alvant’s conversation here. Then maybe you are a buffoon.” She smirked at him. “You have a small window to ask me, cause once I finish this drink, I’m out.”

Konnor looked at the drink, realizing it was almost empty, letting out a sigh and nodded. “Alright...would you like to go out on a date with me?”

Eleena finished her drink, and smiled after wards. “Hmmm maybe, tell you what. Meet me at the western entrance of Bentbranch Meadows at sunset in three days, we’ll have ourselves a nice little picnic. And since you got yerself a nice little promotion. You buy the supplies for food, oh and my drink here.”

With that the red headed Midlander stood up from her stool and gave her a wink. “Oh and I don’t have an outfit for such a theme, soooo I’ll leave that up to you too, just know my favorite color is red, and you can send it to the Quiver barricks.”

Eleena then walked off, exiting the tavern. Konnor sat there his own nerves calm as he couldn’t help but snicker, setting some gil down to pay off her drink. He eventually returned to the table with Alvant and sat down as the Elezen looked over with eager curiosity. “Well??”

“Uhh...so we gotta go clothes shopping after this.”

#FFXIVwrite2020

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ask-the-friendly-ink-demon · 4 years

Note

hey prowler how did you and ben meet? :0

oh thank goodness. a question that wasn’t about his stress or drago or the past. well it kinda was but at leash he can answer this with some positivity as his massive goopy and long tail swayed slightly

“AH.... BEN.... YEAH I REMEMBER HIM ALL TOO WELL HEH.... WE HAD A LOT IN COMMON. SIMILAR BACKSTORY. BOTH OF US GOT NEGLECTED BY OUR JOEYS IN THE PAST. ONLY A FEW DIFFERENCES I GUESS. HE WAS MORE MAN-MADE FROM THOSE... LOOPS OR CYCLES I THINK THEY’RE CALLED. WHILE I WAS... GENTICALLY MADE FROM TWO HUMAN SOULS AND FOUR DEMON SOULS.... I TIHNK” he rubs his own forehead, rumbling softly “BUT! I DO KNOW THAT WE ARE ACTUALLY PRETTY GOOD FREINDS! KINDA SIMILAR TO MY RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN MY BOI BENNASHEE AND MY BRO SOUL, ME AND BEN JUST.... HAVE A CONNECTION” he crosses his arms thinking slightly “AS FOR HOW WE MET.....” he thinks. trying to remember “WE MET WHEN DURING WHEN THIS BLOG WAS ON A HIATUS. WHEN I WAS STILL. RECOVERING FROM MY FIRST ‘DEATH’ AFTER FADED MADE ME LOSE CONTROL. WHEN THAT... SHADOW ANIMATRONIC WAS AROUND. CHANGING DRAGO OR SOMETHING. BEFORE HE MADE THEM CHANGE. THEY AND HIM WERE A BIT OF AN... ASSHOLE WHEN FUSED INTO THAT... STAGEFRIGHT OR NIGHTSHOW OR WHAT THE FUCK EVER....” he grunts, slightly glowing purple but. quickly shaking it off “ANYWHO IM GETTING OFF TRACK. BEN ARRIVED AT THAT WEIRD STUDIOS WE ALL FIRST ARRIVED AT IN THAT MULTIVERSE PLACE. A CHANGING STUDIOS IF YOU WILL. ANYWHO IT WAS DURING A PRETTY BIG AND NASTY STORM. ME AND BEN MET UP WHEN I WAS MORE... NORMAL AND WE TALKED AND SUCH AND WE QUICKLY BECAME BESTIES HEH....” he crosses his arms, smiling softly as he grew a bit smaller. his horns shrinking as talking about ben seemed to make him more. perfect? (:0) or something as he keeps thinking slightly. eventually almost looking like his standard inked state.

“BUT... WELL THAT STORM TURNED OUT TO BE ONE OF THOSE WEIRD GIANT MONSTER THINGS YOU HUMAN CALL KAIJUS... I THINK IT’S NAME WAS GHIDORAH? OR SOMETHING I DUNNO. ME AND BEN CONNECTED FURTHER WHEN I SAVED HIS ASS FROM BEING FRIED TO A PUDDLE HEH” he snorted, chuckling softly as he smiled a bit more, his ink stopped oozing as his inky aura seemed to dissapear almost “WE KEPT ON TALKING. LEARNING ABOUT EACHOTHER’S PASTS. WE KEPT HELPING EACHOTHER WITH OUR.. PROBLEMS AND PAST... EVEN LETTING OUT SOME UNHEARD SECRETS ABOUT US HEH... FOR A TIME I THOUGHT HE HAD FRAGMENTS OR MEMORIES OF ALL THE WORKERS’S SOULS INSIDE OF HIM WHEN HE TOLD ME HIMSELF HE WAS SOULLESS. YET HE COULD STILL FEEL EMOTIONS.... THOUGH THAT SOON CHANGED WHEN EARLIER AFTER I KILLED AND MERGED FADED FOR GOOD INTO MY OWN SOUL....” he huffs softly, his ink rising back up but he quickly calmed down, taking in a deep breathe.

“THIS WAS WHEN I... WAS MORE BROKEN AND RECOVERING FROM EVERYTHING. I GREW VERY PARANOID. AND SCARED OF FUSING. OR BEING AROUND OTHER DEMONS BUT. BEING AROUND BEN. MADE ME FEEL. SAFE. MADE ME FEEL MORE... normal....” his size shrunk a bit, his unmoving grin shrinks slightly as his appearance started to look more. toony like as he kept on talking “ONE DAY WHEN I WAS ReLaXinG FrOM EveRythInG i GoT... sEnt TO HIs STUdiOS... WAsN’t THe FIRsT TIme i WaS sEnt THeRe bUT. ANywHo wHEn i fiRST ArRIveD Me And BeN wErE SUprISeD To saY The leAsT” he crosses his arms, leaning against the couch “he TrIEd oPEnINg uP a PortAL fOR me TO go bACK hOme But. IT diDinT wORK. i trIEd BEfoRe bUT it COUlDN’T WOrk... beForE We COuLD tRY ANythING We GOt JumPEd bY THosE ButchEr gANg clOneS. BotH STabLE ANd NoNStAbLE” he says, pulling out a strange looking pipe that seemed to be manmade- fixed with a shocker baton “GrAbBEd THiS fRom ONe OF thEM heH...” he says, snorting softly before huffing “ThOSe WheN i aBsoRbeD thOSE unsTABLE clOneS soMEthING... hAppEneD.... I... FeLT thINGs i wAsN’t SUpPOSeD TO fEeL OR rEmeMBEr... THan caME oNe OF thOSe dEMoNS.... aPPArENly Ben’S faMilY TrEe WaS biGgeR thAN he THoUGHt...”

He grunts, huffing softly as he was unawarely getting smaller, his voice more soft spoken but still distorted “but even then. ben’s studios was the first time in a while that i achieved a new form. the hunter demon. which was apparently a remake of that... strange forced fusion faded had with me....” he grunts, snorting a bit “after ben... merged that head secuirty demon into himself we decided to fix this whole mess. taking care of monster after monster. i made sure to make myself stay stable.. even if it meant uh... absorbing a few tainted souls... i wasn’t thinking straight... when we came across that doctor demon though something... happened... he used my own ability against me...” he rubbed his own back, rumbling softly “but even then... i converted that little advantage he had into a whole lot of energy... so much that i accidently blew us all up in that room heh.....” he rubbed his own forehead, melting but unawarely looking smaller than before. more. humanoid kinda “that was my first discovery of my purple states.... though it was mainly just. extremely powerful bursts of energy enough to blow up rooms or create earthquakes... after he merged that doctor into himself we kept on moving... even though i was having trouble... he became infected with my own corruption by accident. two times actually... or three when we came across the last demon. the one that apparently ordered those butcher gang to come at him. benny as he calls himself... i was still heavily pissed off with what that place was doing to me but. i didint let that fool me. even if he sented out a monstrous boris... “ he huffs, humming slightly “but even then. we still managed to stop this whole mess. ben kinda has a alter personality now of that benny since they...share the same body now i guess...? i dunno but when he was trying to fix me my... other corruption and excess ink from that went into him.. i felt back but i didint know what to do to get rid of it when i finally told ben but. he just gave me that classic smirk and said it’d be fine....”

“now of course he wasn’t fine. it took a few days for him to.. adjust to it. i dunno if he fully activated it or not but he has been showing more signs of the traits on him. with his eyes complete purple. his tail a more longer and sharper. even his body looked more defined. like a human’s... though when my corruption accidently infected imp, it made him more. perfect. since it kinda has a mental mind of it’s own. shifting and shaping the person into what the host exactly wants in life. ben wanted to be more ‘human’ and imp wanted to be more ‘perfect’ so it gave them exactly that but of course there’s always setbacks.... i had to calm ben down a bit with this but he had to calm me down even more when i was a messed up corrupted feral beast heh....“ he looked more smaller and more. perfect. his tail still long but not as long as before. he looked more. calm. more relaxed as he kept explaining the finishing details “wasn’t the first time either but” he closes his eyes. wait. eyes? he wasn’t aware of it but he looked more... normal? he opened his eyes. smiling brightly a bit as his tail wags hey he actually kinda looks....

“overall! ben and i are very good pals! even cousins if you want to go there! he and i are... kinda the same heh. we’re both outcasts but hey... outcasts need to stick together i suppose hehe...” he beamed, his tail wagging more. seemly unaware that he was back in his toon baby self “he’s actually one of the more better friends that i wish i could hang out with more. or see more! we haven’t seen eachother that much ever since that mess at his stuidos... heh god what he must think of me now like this from this whole mess... probably would say some corny joke or something about lanky’s not so tough or something” he says, chuckling softly as he still had that smile on his face. more tired though “i actually liked this question a lot. if only for a moment though i wish i could see him again.... or any of my friends heh....” he wiped something from his eye, still not unaware even as he noticed that he had too gloves again he just figured his ‘goopy form’ was stablizing itself.... --- Imp Belongs to @sammys-sanctuary Bennashe belongs to @ask-the-impractical-heroes Soul belongs to @ask-soul-bendy and Bendy ‘Ben’ B Stein belongs to my good friend Sheepy on discord! he doesn’t have a tumblr yet but he has thought about getting one in the future!

#Modern Reflection; Little Devil Darling (Bendy Prowler Devil)#Recalling The Past (Learning About The Story Of The Demon's Past)#Crossovers #A New Home For Everyone (Henry's Lodge)#Friendly Ink Demon (Pseudo Form)#Reawakened Demon (Prowler 'Ryoshi' Ben Jarvis)#Freedom But At What Cost? (Aftermath)#My Art #My Drawings #A Cure For The Demon (Reincarnation ARC)#Finding Someone Lost (Reunited ARC)#Roll Call! (Asks)#Fan Mail (Answered Asks)#More info about the hiatus owo #and what's this? :0 #is a certain someone back to normal? owo #The True Events (Canon)#Story Time

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cannibal-nightmares · 3 months

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For the ask thing: 1, 11, 27, 30 😁

from the ask thing heh

1. what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are? Music, Doctor Who, and… The third seems to have stumped me. My sister (whom I havent seen in 17 years?) a crippling fear of a higher power? Growing up poor? Of course stories of trauma would be easy and true to answer with, but I’ve sat on this ask since you sent it and I am not certain what I could place as a definitive third. I could answer with names of my friends, but we shaped each other, didn’t we?

11. what do you consider to be romance? I’m not 100% sure I can observe romance in a traditional sense. I like this question because I don’t know how to answer it. I guess I can start by specifying that “romance” is between partners, right? I’m not sure if “romance” is supposed to be an act, but that’s how it feels to me. While I don’t prefer it, I don’t see “acting” for someone else as an inherently bad thing in this context. I mean, isn’t that what birds do? Court? Hahah uhh.. I think romance is loyalty. Romance is testing boundaries with someone, and not even necessarily in the intimate sense, but facing fears in hand with someone. I have a sort of Hannibal-esque lens over what picturesque image “romance” could be, something much more brutal and shimmering like onyx under the moon. Romance is whatever you mutually declare it with someone else. Romance is what you create with intention and expectation. Romance is blood, isn’t it?

Now, “what is love?” Acts of care. But “love” to me is not exclusive between partners, but towards friends and strangers, as well.

27. any nicknames? “My first name is a random set of numbers and letters and other alphanumerics that changes hourly forever My last name, a thousand vowels fading down a sinkhole to a sussurus, couldn't just be “John Doe” or “Bingo” My address, a made up language written out in living glyphs lifted from demonic literature and religious text Telephone, uncovered by purveyors of the Ouija, then checked against the CBGB women's room graffiti My social, a sudoku; my age is obscure; my 'in-case-of-emergency' is in the daisies chasing birds My medical history is a course at SUNY Buffalo: Charlatan psychiatry and troubleshooting undertow” [ x ]

Nah, haha, I see what you’re doing here, heh. As an artist, cannibal. As a familiar, Rocky. Something more formal, Will. If you want to flatter me and fluster me beyond words… kin names… I’m picky in stupid-specific ways about them, so I don’t talk about them. (Stein, Franken, Vitya… sometimes Nic calls me Smokey and doc hahaha.. my goodness..) I’m in total denial of having a “preferred” name. I do have one but it’s kept guarded for now. I sincerely wish “who are you” and “what is your name” was as simple of a question as it is for everyone else, but it just isn’t. I’ve gone by all kinds of names for too-practical reasons; anyone who knows me by any other title has special reserve to call me by those names. I go by Rocky at work and in my musical shenanigans and I think it fits me as though I were a cartoon character. It's actually the name of my late grandfathers dog.

30. what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier? These days I am having to decrypt the difference between happiness and mania but I can tell you what makes me content and what I value in feeling safe/calm:

A hot cup of coffee, silence/summer ambiance, natural lighting. Stuffed animals.

I guess something that makes me “happy” is being in costume. I love a good costume time, especially when I get to make other people happy w said costumes (its part of the reason I started fursuiting back in 2013). Singing, I suppose, too. When I seek joy, I either look to finishing a project or enriching someone else.

Thank you for the ask, sincerely ^^

#ask me anything #ask meme #bcbdrums #cannibal-nightmares rambles #cannibal's music

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wiener-blut · 5 years

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@chachamaru-chan tagged me in this, thank you!! 💕

Rammstein Family Game: Get to know me!

Get to know me in 10 questions. Copy and paste the questions if you’re tagged, or if you feel like it.

Rules: There are no rules. Tag whoever you want. Don’t tag anyone. Tag yourself. You don’t have to answer all of the questions. Do what you please. Have fun.

created by: @vapor-stein

1. I’m curious: when did you discover Rammstein?

I basically grew up with them since my mom is a big fan, too. But I only actively started listening to them in summer 2017 after we watched Paris for @froschimbrunnen‘s birthday

2. Tell me your story. How did you discover them?

I remember sitting on @froschimbrunnen‘s couch and going like “oh shit the drummer is really hot” and uh yeah I think I fell in love with Schneider before I fell in love with Rammstein lmao

3. Favorite song?

Ehh there’s so many amazing songs, really, it’s hard to settle with only one, but I’d say Sehnsucht if we’re talking only “official” songs, and if we’re including live versions, Tier (the LAB version)

4. Least favorite song? Come on. I know you have one.

I don’t hate this song, I just don’t like the back vocals in Zwitter, I just think they’re a tad annoying.

5. Favorite album?

Hmm. Sehnsucht, I think, or LIFAD. But I’m leaning more towards Sehnsucht

6. Least favorite album?

Reise, Reise. It just never hooked me as much as the others

7. Something that speaks to you in the deepest sense of the word: a lyric? A specific song?

I feel a bittersweet ache when listening to Was Ich Liebe but uuhh idk I can’t think of anything else lol

8. Unpopular opinion: about a member? A scandal? Anything?

Ahhh idk LOL i hate Reiband with a passion :))))

9. Have you ever seen them live? Tell me what you felt.

Saw them in summer 2019 and while I don’t remember too many details (my memory sucks heh) I know that it were some of the best hours of my whole life and I loved every fucking second of it and I want to relive it like a quadrillion times please thank you

10. Do you play any instruments? If you do, can you play any song by them?

I don’t, altho I can play the basic melodies of Roter Sand, Seemann, and Stirb Nicht Vor Mir on the acoustic guitar

#tag thing #that was funnnn #im pretty sure all me friends have already been tagged tho so im not tagging anyone #if u wanna do this just pretend that i tagged u lol

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sharpen-jadescythe · 4 years

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Sharpen tries to pick up Rexxar

((Like actually Rexxar. I know, but don’t facepalm quite yet. Sharpy may surprise you!))

Sharpen, “So, Rexxar! Now that you’ve agreed to come on and adventure with me--”

Rexxar, “We non-player characters actually prefer the word quest.”

Sharpen, “Huh? Why get so hung up on that?”

Rexxar, “It’s more professional.”

Sharpen, “Oh, of course. This is totally professional.”

Rexxar, “No it’s not. I saw that selfie you took with me. And, yes, I do have Tumblr.”

Sharpen, “Oh? Heh. Oooh so you then you saw my art--”

Rexxar, “I refused to look at your art.”

Sharpen, “You sure? They say art imitates life, you know.”

Rexxar, “You’re pretty much using that phrase wrong, and I don’t even really understand how you thought that line would work.”

Sharpen narrows his eyes, “Last question before we head out. If you’re on Tumblr, where the HELL do you keep your scrying orb, then? I’ve got plenty of gear, but you only have a bear and a loincloth.”

Rexxar, “Okay, sorry I insulted you, Sharpen. You win that round.”

Sharpen, “Oh, are we keeping score? I do intent to win every round.”

Rexxar sighs heavily, “From now on, I am only answering questions you have about this specific quest.”

That night...

Rexxar, after ignoring Sharpen for most of the evening, “We’ll leave in the morning, Sharpen. Try to get some rest. Uh, and can you move your bird over some? I can’t really lay down with him standing right there, on the bearskin.”

Rexxar, “You might also put out that torch, Sharpen.”

Sharpen, “Irewing likes you. Also, I thought we’d stay up and play strip Hearthstone.”

Rexxar, “Trust me, that doesn’t exist.”

Sharpen, “I bet you played it before with Misha.”

Rexxar, “Wow. Two hours in and we’re already on the Misha jokes, are we?”

In Stormheim...

Rexxar, “Now, Sharpen. I’m not saying we’re lost in Stormheim, but we’re pretty lost here in Stormheim.”

Sharpen, “I was following you--you’re the master tracker.”

Rexxar, “Huh. I assumed that was just you checking me out. How did we get our wires crossed so badly? Oh, I see. I was following Misha, really.”

Sharpen, “HAHA!”

Rexxar, “Come on! I don’t make my own Misha jokes. Why the hell would I?”

Sharpen, “Bwahahahahahah!”

Rexxar, “Sharpen, shut UP!”

Later...

Sharpen, “Sir, I hate to do this, and thank you for the drinks, but we really only visited you because we need to ask some directions. We’re looking for a huntress. I think you guys are in the same tribe... Her name is Kavi. She’s tall, blonde.”

Old Man, “Oh my, yes. I’ve been searching for her, myself.”

Rexxar, “Sharpen, can we speed this up? This is a very important quest for the Unseen Path. Lives are at stake.”

Sharpen, “Will you stop talking over me, Rexxar? This man just now said he knows who I’m talking about!”

Rexxar, “He’s clearly just wasting our time! I told you not to drink whatever he was offering, we’ve been stuck here for hours now.”

Sharpen, “Sir, I’m sorry for my rude friend here. But, as her kinsman, can you give us any clue where Huntress Kavi may be? We’d be happy to track her for you, even.”

Old Man, “Pah! I was speaking generally. Aren’t we ALL looking for a tall, blonde woman, who’s good at handling a wild beast?”

Sharpen, “Damn, that’s a good line.”

Rexxar, “Sharpen!”

Old Man, gestures at Rexxar, a stein in his hand too, “And that one treats you like you two are married. I’d watch out for ‘im.”

*Rexxar snatches the Night Elf’s beer away, throws it on the ground, kicks Sharpen into motion.*

Dear journal,

Well this is awkward. I went off on my own because I’ve just been waiting here for them to finish talking. Rexxar’s actually said a lot more to Kavi than he’s said to me this entire trip. He absolutely has a thing for her.

I don’t wanna say I’m annoyed but. Yeah, I guess I am. I flirted a lot at the start. At least I think I did? My character art should have been the clincher. And I’ve been wanting him to make a move back, but... But I guess Rexxar isn’t that kind of guy.

Maybe the problem is me. I pegged him for a rough sort, so I started making these stupid, obvious jokes. But Rexxar is actually very intellectual, very spiritual, even. He cares a lot about people, too. I thought he’d abandoned the world of mortals, you know, to focus on nature. I suppose I even thought he’d be craving a silly flirtation, a fling. He is a hermit after all.

But Rexxar has a rich perspective and a full life. And Misha and him have this unbreakable bond. It’s terrible that people tease him about it. He’s like... a scholar. If he’d been born a Night Elf, he would have been made into a druid. Heck, I can only imagine what they would have done with him in Malfurion’s time, you know the early days? Rexxar could have given the young Malfurion competition for Shan’do... Okay, so I admit to being smitten, but at least I can see it.

Wait, I’m being called. Better wrap this up. Guess Kavi-Rex are ready to move on now that they’ve finished snogging spiritually, or whatever the heck--

No, that’s unkind of me. Well, I do hope Rexxar finds someone special. But it won’t be me. All I managed to do was irritate him and then give him the highest praise I’ve given any man--in journal form. And then there’s me and my goofy personality. That’s not the way to pick someone up, with weird... exclamations. Where was my class, my finesse? I swear, he’s so famous--I mean he’s Rexxar! That guy makes me so nervous!

It all fizzled. How lame is that?

Sharpen, “Well, Rexxar. We found Kavi and sent her on her way back to Trueshot Lodge. Everything else pretty much sucked, but hey, this amazing view of Stormheim is a nice surprise.”

What? Really? Now he’s giving me the silent treatment ontop of everything else. Piece of work this guy is.

*Rexxar silently slips Sharpen’s journal back into his bag, after reading it.*

Sharpen, “Alright, Rexxar. As luck would have it, this guy has two flying mounts we can both grab. If you’re ready to get rid of me, I guess we should part ways now. So...”

Rexxar, “...”

Sharpen, “Nice... questing with you. Thanks for your help.”

*The Old Man eyes Rexxar knowingly.*

Rexxar, “Look. Don’t take the Kavi thing personally. I mean she’s alright...”

Sharpen, “Ugh. You were eating her for breakfast, brul. I saw you. Anyway, this is a poor time to make up for whatever is you... you think you’re making up for--”

Rexxar, “Brul? What did you just call me!”

Old Man drawls, “I thought hunters were meant to be patient. Young one, let him finish.”

Rexxar, “Sharpen. Going to be direct as always. I read your journal. We’re running late on this mission anyway, so... why not camp out for a few more days together. See what this thing is.”

Sharpen, “...Yeah?”

Rexxar, “As you said, I’m not an idiot. People like to judge me so easily but... I’m not about to turn down a good-looking Night Elf who’s ready to make me into their Shan’do, am I?”

Sharpen grins, “Good call.”

Rexxar, “And that’s how romance is, I never... created a safe space for you to at least try. I did feel attracted initially, I should have... bent in the breeze. Forgive my uh, hermit tendencies.”

Sharpen, “Hey, no offense taken. It can’t be easy being Rexxar.”

Rexxar, “And nice booty art by the way.”

Sharpen, “I KNEW IT!”

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baconsoupforthesoul · 5 years

Text

The Ink Demonth- Day 9- Fave Ship

Work Hard, Sleep Happy

A/N: I know there’s gonna be a lot of Henry X Linda today but I had a ton of fun writing this so I regret nothing. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy~

Linda idly swirled the tea in her mug as she stared out her window at the night sky. It was almost midnight and her husband wasn’t home yet. She wishes she could say that this was an unusual occurrence but that would be a lie. Heck, some days Henry would call her to tell her that he had to spend the night at the studio because he had too many deadlines to meet. He told her over and over again not to wait up for him on the nights he was working late. But Linda was becoming increasingly worried about her husband the more he worked. She was so proud of him for doing what he loved and putting his all into it, but she couldn’t stop herself from thinking that this job was going to be the death of her husband. He was barely eating and hardly getting any sleep and she knew all that drawing could not be good on his wrist. She had half a mind to storm into that studio and tell Joey Drew off for working Henry so hard but he always convinced her not to. He’d always tell her he wouldn’t work this hard forever, that it was just until they had enough money to hire some more artists. But that day never seemed to come and Linda hardly ever got to see the man she loved anymore.

Suddenly, Linda saw a car pull into her driveway, it’s headlights shining into the kitchen window. Linda shot out of her chair and rushed to the door. She swung it open and saw Norman Polk walking up the driveway with an arm around Henry’s shoulders, helping the animator walk unsteadily towards the front door.

“Oh my gosh, Norman is he alright?” Linda dashed down her front steps toward the pair of them.

“Don’t you worry Mrs. Stein, he’s just exhausted,” Norman reassured her. “I drove him home since I didn’t want him falling asleep behind the wheel. I’ll drive him in tomorrow.” Norman leaned closer to Linda, and quietly whispered to her, “Although I wouldn’t be opposed ta ya convin’ him to call in sick. He’d never admit but he needs some shut-eye.”

“I heard that,” Henry mumbled, sounding heavily sleep-deprived. “I’m tired, not sick. I just need a little rest and then I’ll be good to-” Henry didn't even get to finish his sentence before he stumbled forward, needing to be balanced by both Norman and his wife.

“I don’t want to hear another word out of you until you can walk without tripping over your own feet.” Linda scolded him and she and Norman walked him into the house. “Thank you so much for getting him home safely Norman.”

“Don’t you even mention it, Mrs. Stein.” Norman smiled warmly at her. “You just take care of him now, cause goodness knows, someone has to.”

“I heard that too,” Henry grumbled.

“Good. Now, I got a wife and kids to go home to. You two have a good night now.” Norman gave them a wave before heading out the door and back to his car.

“Thanks again Norman!” Linda called out to him before helping her husband walk unsteadily to their bedroom. “What am I going to do with you?” Linda sighed as Henry stumbled to the bed and finally sat down.

“Sorry Linda,” Henry mumbled, looking up sheepishly at his wife.

“And none of that either,” Linda scolded, pulling off Henry’s suspenders and unbuttoning his shirt. “I just… dear, you need to take better care of yourself.”

“I know, I know,” Henry sighed as he slid off his shoes. “It’s just, there’s so much to do and I don’t want to fall behind. I’d hate to be the reason we-”

“Henry, you do enough work for ten people. If the animations fall behind it won’t be because of you, it’ll be because that boss of yours is too cheap to hire other animators to help you,” Linda scowled as she went over to their dresser and fished around for their sleepwear. “Does that man have any idea how much work you put into this damn studio? Cause I have half a mind to remind him with a little whack upside the head.”

“Heh, as much as I would love to see that, that probably isn’t the best idea sweetheart,” Henry gave his wife a goofy smile. Linda just huffed and threw the man’s pajamas so they hit him square in the face.

“Good idea or not, it’s what that jerk deserves,” Linda muttered as she changed into her nightgown.

“You got a point there,” Henry yawned as he changed. “God, I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“That’s probably because you’ve basically missed a whole week of sleep,” Linda commented as the two of them got settled in bed. “Henry, dear, I really meant what I said before. You need to start taking better care of yourself. You’re doing nobody any favors running yourself into the ground like this. You can’t draw cartoons if you pass out from exhaustion.”

“I know dear. I just… I just..” Henry looked over at Linda, his voice dripping with helplessness. “I just… I don’t know how to fix this.” He told her honestly. “I feel like I’m selling my soul to this damn studio. Don’t get me wrong, I love drawing and animating but, these hours I’m working, hardly ever getting to see you,” Henry cupped Linda’s check as a solitary tear ran down his face. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this…” Henry’s voice hitched at the end, the stress from weeks and weeks of work starting to reach the tipping point.

“Oh Henry,” Linda leaned over and gently kissed Henry’s forehead. “Then let me help you.” Linda cupped Henry’s face, rubbing the tears off his checks. “I’m gonna go have a talk with Joey Drew-don’t give me that look Henry,” Linda gave him a stern look. “I’m not gonna come in guns blazing. I’m just gonna put it to him nicely how much you’ve been working and gently emphasize how he can’t make cartoons if he puts his only animator in the hospital. I won’t even hit him once, how does that sound?”

Henry chuckled at the mention of hitting Joey again. “How did I get this lucky, to marry a woman as wonderful as you?” Henry asked, looking at his wife with starstruck eyes.

“Oh hush now,” Linda smiled, pulling her husband in for a kiss. “I’m the lucky one here, havin’ such a hard-working husband.”

“Please, I’m the lucky one for having the prettiest wife on earth.” Henry countered as he gathered his wife up in his arms and buried his face into her hair.

“Love, we could go back and forth on this all night, but you really need your sleep.” Linda pointed out as she held her husband close.

“Way ahead of you,” Henry mumbled as he shut his eyes, finally letting himself drift off to sleep with the love of his life nestled in his arms.

#the ink demonth #bendy and the ink machine #henry stein #linda stein #henry x linda #norman polk #spacy writes #batim fanfic

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arcaneranger · 6 years

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Final Thoughts - 2018 Long Shows

It’s finally here! I’m so close to being done with 2018 (...mostly. We’ll get to it) that I can taste it, but in the meantime, this list is gonna be weird, because there will be things that were already on other lists since I revised my rules of what should be classified how. This post is specifically for any show that ended in 2018 and lasted longer than 13-ish episodes (including shows that aired a second season during the same year or within six months of finishing the previous one), which means that there’s about as much on it as a usual season of shows, but they all had more time to impress - or disappoint me. I’m doing a better job in recent seasons of getting to everything, but last year there were unfortunately things that I missed (I was burned out in the winter) and just have to leave aside for now because I can’t wait any longer for these lists.

Anyway! As usual, let’s start with what I skipped!

* The Seven Deadly Sins: Revival of the Commandments, The Disastrous Life of Saiki Kusuo S2, Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card, Garo: Vanishing Line, and Mr Tonegawa: Middle Management Blues because I haven’t seen their previous seasons or parent works. (Yes, even Cardcaptor Sakura. Y’all can shoot me later.)

* Hakyuu Hoshin Engi, Beatless, and Basilisk: The Ouka Ninja Scrolls because by the time I was rounding things up, I hadn’t heard a single positive thing about any of them.

Next comes what I dropped -

WORST OF THE YEAR: Steins;Gate 0 (4/10)

What a fucking mess this show was. Aside from a very noticeable downgrade in production talent from its predecessor, the plot meanders and flirts with maybe actually happening this time before just dropping out again, over and over, to the point where I was perfectly willing to drop it two episodes from the finish line because it was such an insult to fans of the original. (Also, continued disgusting mistreatment of the transgender character.)

Gundam Build Divers (4/10)

Taking the Build series from being a well-written kids show to an averagely-written kids show that hides itself in decent mech designs.

Katana Maidens (4/10)

I remember so little about this show, and granted that I did drop it after one episode almost nine months ago, but what I did remember was that it gave me strong KanColle vibes with laughably inconsistent animation and flat characters. Meh.

Darling in the FRANXX (5/10)

This should probably be lower on the list, but I got out of Darling while the getting was good, sixteen episodes in. I understand that future episodes of the show cemented it as crappy right-wing nonsense in addition to pushing worldbuilding out of its fortieth-story window, but the moment it lost me was much sooner, when the crazy yandere female lead was reduced, almost instantly, to Good Anime Waifu as a reward to the protagonist for going against his friends with his selfish motives.

Persona 5 the Animation (5/10)

In addition to not actually finishing in 2018, Persona 5 just did not give me a single reason to watch it when I’d already finished the source game, with middling-to-bad visuals (thanks to the switch from Production I.G. to A-1 Pictures, and not even the team that created the much better-looking Day Breakers OVA before the game was released in the U.S.) and phoned-in music, which is especially unacceptable in a Persona adaptation. Also, we all absolutely called that the studio couldn’t tell the story of the entire game in just 26 episodes.

Record of Grancrest War (6/10)

There’s people that like this one a lot, but I didn’t see much that interested me in the first two episodes. I’ve heard better things about the manga.

Golden Kamuy (6/10)

I had problems with the first half of Golden Kamuy that the second half simply didn’t fix, and it became difficult for me to keep watching - the show still interrupted almost every fight scene with a dick joke, but still wanted to maintain a serious and occasionally frightening tone - and those things simply don’t go together. It needed to either spend more time being funny, or keep its lowest-common-denominator humor out of the fights.

Next, I have two shows that are (potentially permanently) On Hold, simply because it’s time for me to move on and I don’t have the time or energy to marathon them when the Winter shows are starting to wrap up:

Kakuriyo: Bed & Breakfast for Spirits, because even though I initially dropped it, I’ve heard a lot of good things since and I want to eventually give it another shot.

Yowamushi Pedal Glory Line, because despite the fact that I still enjoyed the previous season, this one started right in the middle of my burnout and I only heard bad things about it. I’ll get to it eventually, but it’s a shame that this series has been on a clear trend downwards since its revival.

And finally, the stuff I finished!

The Ancient Magus’ Bride (6/10)

Keep in mind that this is here entirely on the merits of its aesthetic and its side characters - in the end, Ancient Magus’ Bride is a Beauty and the Beast story where the beast gets what he wants without learning to be less of a dick or even apologizing for his clearly wrong actions.

Major 2nd (7/10)

Always pleased to have even just Good sports shows around, and this one is a very effective reboot of a classic series that’s never made its way stateside (man, the underperformance of Big Windup! really did a lot of damage to this genre in the West). With good character development and a decent second-generation premise, Major 2nd has the potential to be the beginning of a solid baseball story, assuming that it gets a needed followup.

IDOLiSH7 (7/10)

I dropped IDOLiSH7 when it first aired, and though I wound up enjoying it after I was very strongly urged to revisit it, the problems it started with never quite left it behind - that is, it has an okay cast of characters but doesn’t present even passable performance sequences, and if you’re going to include big song-and-dance numbers, they have to be good, or you may as well just be UtaPri.

ClassicaLoid Season 2 (8/10)

In 2017, I gave the first season of ClassicaLoid a near-perfect 9/10, and while this season gives us a satisfying conclusion to the story, it does things both a little better than the first, and also not quite as great. It’s story is much more well-integrated over the runtime so it doesn’t happen all at once in a few chunks, and the jokes that work are still absolute genius, but there’s simply too much that doesn’t quite land correctly, and a little too much immature humor, for it to reach the same lofty Hall of Fame heights as the first season. Still, one of the most underrated shows I’ve ever seen.

My Hero Academia Season 3 (8/10)

God, Izuku in that onesie is too damn cute.

My problems with Hero Academia are frustratingly persistent - the show is at its best when the students are competing with other students, because outside of last season’s Stain (a villain whose motivation is specifically related to the world of MHA), the villains are just not at all compelling and they all seem a little too generic for their own good. I just want Horikoshi to be a little bit less predictable of an author and do a little less reading of the Standard Shounen Playbook. Luckily, when it works, it works magnificently.

March Comes in Like a Lion S2 (8/10)

March remains director/auteur Akiyuki Shinbo’s most accessible work, and one of his masterpieces, as a well-paced and marvelously moody story of a depressed shogi prodigy learning to be a normal teenager before his youth completely passes him by, and the fantastic characters that surround him with their own complex problems and motivations. I just really, really hope it gets a third season eventually, because this one did not leave off on a satisfying conclusion.

Speaking of which...

Food Wars! Shokugeki no Soma S3 (9/10)

It’s almost a shame that My Hero Academia became hugely popular purely based on its accessibility to American audiences, because Food Wars pretty squarely deserves to be the reigning Shonen Jump king - each season has only improved on the previous one, and this one was based entirely on a continuing arc that could only have happened in the universe of this show, Fighting Food Fascism. That being said, it also leaves off right in the middle of the arc (because it had almost caught up to the manga), meaning that we have to hope that it can remain relevant long enough for there to be enough source material for another season. I’ll be crossing my fingers until they snap.

Banana Fish (9/10)

Yes, this has risen a point since my review, but Banana Fish still deserves to be thought of as both a complete masterwork of crime fiction, being fantastically paced and expertly plotted in the use of its many, many twists, and a work that disappointed the side of me that hoped that, in adapting it into the modern day, MAPPA could have managed to get the author to let them depict what is clearly a queer relationship with the authenticity and legitimacy that it deserved. It’s still amazing, though, and Amazon should be pushing it with their most lavishly-made originals. At least it was the last noitaminA show they’ll get to totally bury.

And, finally, the one you all saw coming.

BEST OF THE YEAR: Lupin the 3rd Part V (10/10)

Lupin is, quite simply, one of the pinnacles of the medium. A simple idea that can (and did) go in thousands of different directions, handled by highly creative writers and an animation staff that has been knocking it out of the park for years, despite the fact that it is criminally (heh) unrecognized in the West. To put it simply, there’s a very, very good reason that it’s been around since the 70′s.

Okay! All I have left to do is finish Dragon Pilot (waiting on a friend) and we can get the last two lists out of the way! We’re almost done...

#multi 2018 #arcaneanime #year end anime list #final thoughts #lupin the third #my hero academia #banana fish #food wars #the ancient magus bride #March Comes in Like a Lion #idolish7 #major 2nd

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trashboatprince · 6 years

Text

@gruvu sent me a prompt and I was inspired.

Enjoy the Sammy/Henry content!

So far so good on attempting to edit the script.

Henry had found a way to shorten his time in the music hall and had actually gotten a reaction out of Sammy this time when he tried to cross the inky hallway. Throwing a can of soup from one of the alters that musician had set up worked enough to startle him, but Sammy still escaped.

Even yelling at him after breaking into the sanctuary didn’t do much but to make him tilt his head like a confused dog, but it was better than being ignore or silently stared at.

But now Henry had to try, he had to figure something out before he was made into a sacrifice. As he walked down the hall to the lobby, he made sure to stop just a foot or so from the spot he remembered writing ‘ouch’ on. As he did, Henry turned quickly, just in time to see Sammy come towards him with that damn dustpan.

“Sammy, wait! It’s me, Henry-!” He was suddenly struck and brought to the ground.

However, before he blacked out, Henry noted that the sheep song wasn’t quoted this time. No, he heard Sammy say something else, “Henry? A familiar name, my little sheep...”

Henry groaned loudly, feeling his face pressed against old, rotting wood. Well, this is different from normal, typically he’s tied up to a pole, about to hear Sammy’s speech. Actually, where was Sammy?

He opened his eyes, finding himself on the floor of the sacrifice room. Oh shit, did he miss the whole thing? No, he’d have been beaten to death by Searchers if that was the case, it’s happened twice in the past. With a huff, he pushed himself up, trying not to move too fast, his head was killing him.

The door to his left open, and Henry saw Sammy come out, humming to himself as he toyed with a length of old rope. He stopped and looked at Henry. “You’re awake.”

“Brilliant observation there, Lawrence.” Henry frowned, moving to stand, using the pole he was normally tied up to for support.

“How do you know my name?” Sammy asked, stepping carefully closer to him. “I have not heard anyone say my last night in so long... the angel remembers my first name, I think.”

“She does, she tells me you use to be a very handsome man.” Henry replied as he rubbed at the dry blood in his hair. “Heh, I’m sure it’s still true. Oh God, my head hurts... did you hit me with the corner?”

Sammy was quiet as he observed the former animator. “Before... you informed me that you are named Henry. Yes, that name is... familiar, so familiar, has my lord mentioned it to me before? His whispers are sometimes hard to recall...”

Henry shook his head. “Sammy, we’ve done this song and dance a million times. You recognize my face, but you ignore that, and then you spew some bull crap about Bendy being your lord and that you’re going to be free!”

“I will be free of this i-”

“Yes, yes, this ‘inky prison’.” The animator rolled his eyes as he stepped towards him, he noticed that Sammy took a step back but that didn’t stop him. “Bendy doesn’t do anything for you except turn you into a puddle! And you want to know what happens after he does that?”

Before Sammy can reply, Henry is suddenly too close to the prophet. He’s backed the man up to the door he had come from. “He makes you lose all faith in him and you go even more insane than before, you try to kill me, only to get killed again! And sometimes... sometimes...”

Sammy flinches when the other’s hands slap down onto his shoulders, gripping them. “Sometimes I have to be the one to kill you, because you’re nothing but a Searcher, forever wearing this stupid mask.”

“I-I... I need it, to be the p-perfect form.” Sammy stumbles over his words, no sacrifice has done anything like this before. He gasps when one of the hands moves to his mask and carefully removes it from his face. He shoves at Henry, covering his face. “Don’t look at me! No one can see my face!”

“Stop it.” Henry tossed the old wooden mask aside, not even bothering to see where it landed. “Sammy Lawrence, I’ve seen your face. I’ve seen it so many times without that mask, even before everything went to hell here, before the Ink Machine.”

This seemed to catch Sammy’s attention. The silence was Henry’s cue to continue. “We use to work together. You use to have a tiny office up on the first floor, it was practically a broom closet, and I had a corner of from the front door. We’d visit each other often, talking about Joey behind his back.”

“Joey... Drew, yes... I remember him.”

“Do you remember an animator?” Henry asked carefully, glancing at the axe that Sammy had left aside, just in case if Sammy tried anything. “Do you remember the man who created Bendy?”

Sammy was quiet, carefully removing the inky hands from his face. “I... think, I remember a man... kept to a desk a lot. Drawing all the time, always my lord, with perfect skills. He asked to draw me once, for Boris, I played my banjo.”

This made Henry blink, and he felt embarrassed suddenly. Of course, of all things, Sammy would remember the time Henry made an ass out of himself while drawing Sammy playing the banjo for practice! But this was good, this was a start! “Does the name Stein mean anything to you?”

The musician seemed conflicted, at least as far as Henry could tell with such a face like that. “Stein... Haw... I remember!” He exclaimed, turning to fully face Henry, pointing a finger at him. “Henry Hawthorne Stein! You, you were him! The artist in the corner!”

“Took you long enough.” Henry replied with a slight smile as he approached the man. “What do you remember?”

“That you were one of the only saving graces of this horrible place.” The musician replied. “I remember... you left, and that idiot did things, horrible things...”

He looked at his hands, conflicted once more. “What you must think of me, Henry, you make it sound like we’ve been through all this so many times before.”

“Joey’s put us through hell over and over, I don’t know how he does it, but he has me repeating this, and every time I try to talk to you, he keeps my mouth shut. But I did something, I changed the story, and I think,”

With slow movements, Henry placed his hands on Sammy’s face. This was the first time he had ever touched the man in this form, he felt cold and wet, just like the ink, but he was solid. “I think that I can keep changing things. Just let me help you.”

“Only Bendy can change me, free me.”

“Well, too bad, Bendy’s not here and you’ve got me. Hold still.” He started to carefully wipe at the ink. It felt disgusting, but he had to try, he had to know if there was a chance to save this man. The ink ran down his arms and through his fingers as he tried to remove it all. Bit by bit, he started to find features under the thick liquid, spotting the tip of a nose first, then he found cheeks, a mouth.

Sammy gagged and spat up thick ink on him once he removed the ink from his mouth, how had the man been speaking to him this whole time? Uhg, he shouldn’t question things in this place.

Just as he moved to remove more, he noticed that Sammy was working to try and free his arms of the stuff, one hand was free, and sporting the missing finger.

Henry dragged his thumb over where he thought an eye was, seeing it closed. It blinked open, looking at him, widening. He did the same to the other eye, then moved to try and work on his hair, only to feel arms wrap around him.

He paused, and Henry did not move. As much as he wanted to say something, he felt like Sammy really needed this, that this was his way of thanking him without saying it. With a small sigh, he returned to hug, feeling Sammy tighten it, as if he was afraid that the moment he let go he’d return to being trapped in that casing of ink.

Well, Henry wasn’t going to let that happen, he wasn’t going to lose this man again. It’s gonna take a lot of work to keep freeing this man from the studio, but Henry was willing to put in the effort. No need for Bendy saving him, no relying on Joey ever changing the script, this was Henry’s story now, and Sammy was coming along with him to the ending.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #sammy lawrence #henry stein #john's drabbles

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