#like sure. half of them can easily handle their own fights. but.

[fictionallyinparadise]

I think. Having my f/os call me their weapon or their attack dog would fix so many problems in me.

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

Will is good at making decisions.

It’s one of the only things he’s good at, actually. He can’t fight. He can’t control water or lightning or plants. He’s not as smart as Athena’s kids or as charming as Aphrodite’s. He is clumsy and soft-hearted and stubborn. But he is observant, he always has been, and he prides himself in his ability to think ahead. He keeps his infirmary stocked and his siblings on schedule. He reigns in head counsellor meetings and draws up binders and binders of files and projects — he is organised. He watches, he notices, he reflects, he prepares. He’s as impulsive as the rest of them, sure, but he has enough contingencies in place that he’s solid. A solid head on his shoulders, and he knows it — the head medic must.

So when he watches himself, horrified, diverge from his very detailed twenty-nine step process entitled The di Angelo Dilemma: Approaching Friendship like a Normal Person and ask Nico to come over, he considers the possibility that he has been possessed. Maybe the eidolons that fucked everything up the first time around have been crouching in dark corners, patiently awaiting the perfect time to strike and ruin Will’s life.

“See you then,” says Nico, rushing out the door, and Will smiles at him easily, watching him dash across the common, and then he sets aside the folder he’s updating, walks calmly out of the empty infirmary, nodding to Mr. D. as he passes, turns a corner in the hallway, slips into his favourite supply closet, sticks a chair under the door handle, clears his throat, and screams.

It’s one of those good screams, by design; he takes a good deep breath beforehand and lets the sound billow out of him, lets it scrape the sides of his throat raw and reverberate somewhere in the base of his skull. Were he not home in a camp that regularly makes use of lethal weaponry and deadly rivalry, entire armies would come running to his defense. As it is, he is left to fall to his knees and scream until he is hoarse, or until he hears a faint will you shut the fuck up! echo from around the vegetable gardens.

“Why me,” he croaks, giving in and collapsing to the floor.

It’s a nice floor, really. In between breakdowns he returns and decorates the place, sweeping up the dust and covering floors and surfaces with rugs and throw pillows. A guitar leans in the far corner for when his mother is thousands of miles away and he’s feeling sorry for himself. A photo album lives half-shoved under a shelf for when he is in need of punishing. His sketchbook remains in a constant state of almost-full under the one dusty window. (That one carries slightly less general despair.)

He is, upon reflection, somewhat of a disastrous person.

How fitting.

“Ugh,” he says out loud, to himself, and reaches for his guitar.

He has no intention of playing anything worthwhile. In fact he doesn’t even bother tuning it, not that he can very well anyway, and just strums random chords and riffs and yells over a string of flat discortants, at one point, filling the tiny room with noise ontop of noise ontop of noise until everything is gleefully stifling, like a mass of birds clouding the sun, like the thirteenth year of swarming cicadas, like the twentieth layer of July Texan heat. Until the mess is transferred from inside of his head to outside of it. Until he has committed so many musical sins that his father retreats from the sky a full forty minutes early.

“I feel you are at fault,” says Kayla, when he finally returns to their cabin. “For.” She gestures vaguely at The Outdoors.

“Hnnngh,” responds Will, taking three steps and tipping, gracelessly, onto Austin’s bunk, nearly bouncing right off of it. He catches himself, barely, and presses hard into the pillow, curling when his brother makes space for him, when his sister sighs, deliberately loud, and presses her knee into his thigh as she climbs up, too.

“This is your own fault,” Kayla grumbles. Her bony shoulders settle along the dips of his ribs, next to Austin’s thin ankles. “You could talk about things before they blow up in your face, but nooooooo. You run around doing everything yourself. Moron.”

Will swipes the heel of his hand under his eyes, throat garbling a weird snort-laugh-sniffle. Those bony shoulders tip to the side, slowly, until she curls under his chin, dragging Austin down with her. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Sh-h,” Austin says, patting blindly until his palm finds Will’s face, then patting deliberately. His knees press against Will’s, now, forehead inches away, barely clinging onto the too-narrow mattress. “Quiet town now. Reflect in your foolishness.”

“So mean.”

Years ago, exactly how many Will refuses to count, this exact scenario would be met by lots and lots of teasing, by pinched cheeks and cuffed shoulders and a forehead kissed several times over. There would be at least six instruments played at once, a camera flash the second he walked in the door pouting, and more lights on that would ever be necessary. An oft-repeated and never-resolved debate, probably; you coddle him, Cass; oh, shut up, Michael, he’s little. The scent of woodgrain and antiseptic and vanilla. A thousand other details he never thought to memorize.

Now there is quiet, or at least more of it.

Kayla hums, notes muffled as she gnaws on her lip, and Austin’s socked feet tap against the blankets, mapping out the tune playing out in his far-away eyes. The last final glow of the horizon turns red, then orange, then violet, sinking into dark navy blue, and their aunt blinks her way into focus, stretching widely across the thin wisping clouds. The fairy lights wrapped around the pillars and ceiling beams blink alongside the stars, chatting away to each other, and the breeze from the window is soft and warm and almost as sweet as southern jasmine. There is a pit in the dead centre of Will’s chest, and he is afraid Kayla will fall into it, and then Austin; afraid they will succumb to his gaping maw.

“What if I ruin absolutely everything,” he says. He swallows, and then again, and again, because his throat is dry, escape for the burning trails mapping the his face from corner of his eye to mouth. “What if I — scare. Am. What if I’m the reason, again.”

Diana snorts. You are such a drama queen.

And that’s coming from this theatre, Lee adds, gesturing grandly to the gold pillars of the cabin. You’ll be fine, kid.

A chorus of agreements from the rest of the occupied bunks; Kate’s encouraging grin, Leanna’s fond hair ruffle as she dances past, Amir’s wink.

Will smiles and blinks back and he is gone, and Michael’s scowl disappears, and Kate and Phoebe’s laughter fades from the background. The cabin is quiet, shadowy; Austin and Kayla breathe quietly, swallow silently.

“I don’t know,” Kayla admits. “You — could be. Again.”

Will squeezes his eyes shut. He begs for Lee to go back to his sleep for the night. He inhales around the shake and inhales and inhales and inhales and feels the vacuum dead centre in his body, like from navel to spin, twisting, tubing, sucking; take, take, take, take. Can I, can I, can I. I want. Please. Let me have.

“I’m not sure it’s better not to try, though.” Austin’s hands curl around Will’s palm. “Right? You always say to — try. Do your best.”

A smile curls up the corner of Will’s mouth.

“I do.”

“And you did try.”

“I did.”

“Did it fail?”

Will flicks down to meet Kayla’s eyes, squinting one and tucking his chin.

“I asked to come over.”

“Oh, well — okay, Marilyn Monroe. Like that’s a new thing.”

“For no reason.”

“…Oh.”

“I could go on the sand rant, Kayla. I’m like a sleeper agent. As soon as he says it, I’ll — you know.”

Austin shifts, frowning thoughtfully. “I mean, he kind of already knows you’re weird.”

“Not this weird!”

“I think everyone knows you’re weird, actually,” Kayla adds. She wiggles, squirming and elbowing until she is half-perched on the fleshy part of Will’s waist, ignoring his wheezing. “Being a nerd dork loser is kind of your whole thing.”

“It is not!”

“You have binders dedicated to people, Will.”

“That’s not bad!”

“Specifically on how to best socialize with them, Will.”

“That’s — thoughtful!”

“…Sometimes being related to you is hard.”

“I am! Collecting data! To better my relationships! What is the issue!”

Austin and Kayla exchange a meaningful look — which does not, Will is relatively certain, usually involve putting your entire palm on your brother’s face and shoving it so it cannot be seen. Kayla.

“You’re doomed to fail,” they decide. And then they kick him off the bed, which is rude, but he is weak to their giggling, and it’s bedtime for them, anyways.

As per his carefully outlined routine they are sent to the showers and sinks, back in half an hour, bickering. As per his less carefully outlined but nonetheless regularly present routine they are separated physically from each other and shoved to seperate bunks. As per his most carefully outlined routine, he follows them each, ignoring their complaints, and presses the back of his hand to each forehead, closing his eyes as he lets his life force bleed into theirs, mixing, checking, making sure.

“We’re fine,” Kayla grumbles.

“Shut up and cough,” Will orders.

Austin gives him less trouble. Will makes a show of thanking him for it. Kayla throws her extra pillow. Will takes it, placing it on his own bed. It is silent after he says goodnight, silent as he clicks off the light, gathers his caddy, pads to the door.

“Goodnight,” whispers a voice, half hidden by the creak of the screen door as he opens it.

“Goodnight,” whispers another, half hidden by the cream of the screen door as he closes it.

“Goodnight,” Will repeats, grinning. “Sleep well, kiddos.”

They grumble, and their bedsprings groan as they turn away, mimicking the grate of the rickety porch steps. That, at least, is familiar; that at least matches the echoes that bounce around the walls of the cabin and the inside of his skull.

———

next

[igotanidea]

No strings attached (2) : neighbor!JT x reader

masterlist

part. 1

***

„What happened?”

When Jason came into the staircase the first thing he noticed was Y/N, who was crouching next to her door with a sad face, cleaning something that seemed awfully like….

“Is that blood?!” he yelled, falling to his knees right next to her.

“What?” she scoffed “Of course not, are you crazy? It’s just paint.”

“sorry….” He mumbled. Jason had way to much experience with blood to not think about that particular thing when he saw Y/N’s door swimming in color red. “Who did this?”

“I have some ideas.” She retorted pointing at one half-scratched word, that at the moment were proudly announcing to the world that she was a bitch. “Guess your lady friend really doesn’t like me.”

“I’m sorry.” Jason said again, a bit of remorse showing on his face “let me help you with this. It’s only fair given the fact it’s all my fault.”

“I can handle it.”

“Please, Y/n.” he whispered and only then she turned around to fully look at him. Well he was fine. Tall and well-build with a mop of black hair with a single white strand right above the forehead and pretty green eyes that were currently showing all of his remorse for the situation.

“What happened to your hair?” she asked just to deflect the tension she felt and that question took them both by surprise.

“It’s…. kinda long story.”

“Really? So it has nothing to do with acting like a bad boy and trying to keep your cool?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head and smiled lightly “it’s fine if you don’t want to talk. After all we don’t really know each other.”

“But…..” he tried to chime in but she didn’t let him.

“given the circumstances I think it’s better if you just stay away from me, Jason. I mean look what happened after the first time we talked. Next time some other of your ex-girlfriend see me with you, I’ll probably end up with a knife in my chest or an acid on my face. Not exactly a nice perspective, am I right?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Jason hissed trying to reach for the sponge Y/N was using to clean.

“Yeah, sure. Does she know that?”

“I told her!”

“Sorry sunshine, but take it from a girl with experience. She won’t let go easily. I know I wouldn’t.” She babbled and put her hand inside the bucket with water, accidentally touching Jason’s hand. Only then her eyes grew wide at the sudden realization of what she said dawning on her.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Jason smirked and raised an eyebrow, even if that sudden touch was … nice, to say the least. Gentle, delicate, like nothing he was used to. Definitely not while patrolling and fighting at night. And even when he had female friends it was always physical. Rough animal fuck just to satisfy the basic needs. And it was fine. Convenient for both parties.

Jason was only familiar with pain, anger and a flood of sudden contradictory feelings in both Red Hood and Jason Todd version. And to his own surprise he enjoyed something different coming from Y/N even if she almost immediately retrieved her hand, not giving him w chance to dwell on that feeling.

“No.” she simply said. Nothing more. No explanation, no blushing, no excuses. Just one simple no.

“Shame. I think you are hot too.”

“Sure” she laughed so hard she actually started crying “I’m hot. That’s a hell of a good joke Todd. I look nothing like the hot girls. I mean, look at me.”

“I am…..”

“I’m not skinny, I hate wearing short and dresses because of my curves and I definitely don’t skip on meals just to lose weight and it shows. To quote a classic: I ain’t no size two. I’m fine with the way I look, but I am definitely not hot.”

 “And yet, Madison clearly treats you like a threat.” He pointed out

“a threat?” the girl raised an eyebrow “nah, not at all. I’m nothing more than a stain on her fancy clothes. A stain you need to eradicate and that is precisely what she’s doing.”

“I don’t ….”

“I meant what I said, Todd. You better stay away from me. I really don’t need any more trouble than I already have.”

“Am I trouble to you?”

“You scream trouble. In more ways than one.” She rolled her eyes “I don’t know about you, but I’m fine with silently passing each other on the stairs. I’m not known for being too open with people.”

“Guess we have that in common.” He scratched his neck in an awkward way, wondering what he could possibly say to make her change her mind. The fact was, the more she was trying to push him away, the more he wanted to pull her in. He might have not been the one to form a true relationship, but the way she was acting and pointing at her body barely seconds before, got his mind spinning. He wondered how it would be like to have her. To have an innocent, maybe a bit shy girl and not a vamp, he was so used to, just to get himself off. How it would be like to feel her underneath him, get those soft hands on his body, to kiss all those places where she was insecure, whisper sweet nothings into her ear while making her feel good. Cause sure as hell he would. How it would be like to map her whole body, find the spots that would make her melt into him and elicit sweet whines and moans out of her, all of that while pressing her into the mattress or wall, seeing her face twisting in pleasure, maybe making her scream his name when she came …... Shit! What was happening to him!? He barely met her and she was his neighbor for fuck’s sake. Maybe all of those one-night stands finally messed up his brain. That was what he was doing. One and done? Sure, even if some girls were becoming clingy after one night (Madison being the best example). But fucking a neighbor he would pass by on a daily basis was surely not a good idea. At all.

“Great. I suppose we just made ourselves a deal.” suddenly she stood up bringing him back to reality “wanna shake on it?”

For a moment Jason hesitated. On one hand he wanted to feel her touch again, craved it even. On the other was fully aware that given his not-so-innocent fantasy-filled brain he wouldn’t be able to settle only on that. So he shook his head as an answer, refusing to fuel the fire inside him any further.

“Too bad.” She pouted “Anyway, it’s late and this stupid stain is not coming off. Guess that’s me saying goodbye to my deposit money” Y/N laughed bitterly “I’m just going to head to bed and I suggest you do the same.” She opened the door to her apartment, turning to face him before disappearing inside. ‘Good night, Jason.” she smiled lightly.

“Good night, Y/N” he whispered back, barely holding himself from grabbing her waist, pushing her into the wall and forcing his way in with her.  

*** 

It was not a good night.

Well, definitely not for Jason.

It was irrational and crazy on so many levels, but he simply wanted the girl next door. And once he felt that desire there was no chances for him to let this go.

And the fact that she was giving him mixed signals was not helping at all. Did she tell him to stay away? Yes. But did she said goodbye with that pretty smile and sparkling eyes? Also yes. And fuck if Jason didn’t want to take some action with her.

But then again. He wasn’t doing relationship and hooking up with the neighbor, especially someone who seemed as kind and nice as Y/N would only cause trouble.

“Fuck!” he hissed to himself, barely capable of focusing on patrolling, beating the shit out of the criminals in more violent way than ever, getting needy and horny just by thinking about her. What was she doing at the moment? Was she thinking about him too? In the way he was thinking about her? No, that was nonsense, she had every reason to hate him. But maybe that hate would turn into some tension relieving and getting herself off? Alone? Was she lying in her own bed, touching herself, trying to get that sweet high? Fuck, he would be more than happy to help her with that. To introduce her to new levels of pleasure and ecstasy, which he was perfectly capable of providing.  

If he were to knock on her door right that moment would she even bother opening? Dressed only in her pajamas or even better, wrapped up only in a towel, straight after shower making it so much easier for him to get what he wanted and needed?

Shit.

He could imagine her curvy body, still a bit damp from the water, her sweet smell, the softness of her hair. Her innocent, surprised gaze – the same she made when he first asked her to play his girlfriend in front of Madison.  Holy shit, was she a virgin? Oh, he would be more than happy to be her first. The first to touch her body in a way she never knew before, to make her a woman.  

“Fuck, just stop you idiot!” his mind was definitely falling into straight-from-porn fantasies. “Just stop it!”

But it was easier said than done and getting progressively more painful with every passing minute. And if he wasn’t careful some of the bats patrolling nearby would notice the tent in his jeans and tease him about it. So gathering all his strength, both mental and physical he started beating all those crime lords to a bloody pulp. The sign and smell of blood making him calm down a bit, drawing back the memories of the time when he was the one being beaten with a fucking crowbar and finally – killed.

Yeah, it definitely did wonders to his excitement, but nothing for his mental state and it quickly became more visible than the tent in the jeans.

‘Jace?” of course his caring older brother had to ask “are you doing all right? You got that gaze….”

“Just fuck off, Grayson!” Jason yelled not able to hold himself anymore. “Just fuck off!”

“What is wrong with him today?” Tim’s voice echoed through the comms, but before anyone could give him an answer Jason took off running leaving the surprised bats behind.

God, he just needed to be alone for a few minutes to help himself.

[prince-liest]

what I love most about your 666 vox is that even though he and alastor make an olympic sport out of bending the boundaries of "safe and sane" sex, he seems to VERY firmly believe in the "consensual" part... him letting go of alastor the SECOND he uses his safe word, holding himself back when alastor can't handle touch during his rut, all that stuff. so what would his reaction be if the events of bus stop happened in the same verse and he learned about what valentino did? I know you mentioned it in another ask before but it's been rotating in my mind for days lol - ✨

Alright, y'all get the long and serious answer for this one! >:) Buckle up, buttercups! And thank you SO much for your kind words! <3

I genuinely think that Vox is a fairly shitty person who does not typically particularly care about the violation of consent. He is so free not just with lying, selling spyware, and enabling enabling Valentino, but also with dominating people's will with his hypnosis in his introduction. I think that, if anything, he gets a power trip out of it and he sees what Valentino does, generally, as an extension of that! They're the Vees! They're powerful, they're winning, they have Pentagram City wrapped around their fingers!

However, in 666, his view of Alastor and the fact that Alastor lets him do things is obsessive and borderline worshipful, in, like, a fucked up sadomasochistic way! 666 is written from Alastor's POV so you get to see a lot of his own emotional progression with regard to how he views Vox, but on Vox's end, he's also seeing Alastor differently. He would not be able to genuinely think that he's fallen in love with Alastor if he wasn't able to get past being worshipfully infatuated with him first. He's still obsessive, but especially after O.T.O Special 6.66, Now Streaming: The Birds and the Bees, Natural Wonders! (aka. the rut fic, I know, my fucking titles—) where Alastor starts offering Vox more genuine vulnerability without the looming threat of his shadow, he sees Alastor as more of an actual person rather than a celebrity figure to fight or fuck or both.

Which means that, before Vox made that transition, he would probably be pissed that Valentino ruined his chances to get up to more shit with Alastor. He is very careful with regards to Alastor's consent in the first two installations of 666 because he's extremely aware of how easily Alastor could withdraw it, and how little Vox could do about that. He's not willing to lose Alastor after the taste he's finally had! He's practically manic about finally getting what he wants!

After he's developed more genuine feelings for Alastor (and Alastor has moved solidly into being one of the relatively few people that Vox registers as not just being an NPC or untouchable raid boss in his life), he would be... absolutely fucking mortified, I think. The empathy would fucking suck! That's why he prefers not to have it for most people!

But the thing is, he also loves Val. He has history with Val. And he knows what Val is like. I think he would be less actually, genuinely, overtly angry at Valentino in this scenario than he would have been if he'd just seen Val as ruining his big break with Alastor. He'd make a show of it, sure, but how the hell can he really blame Valentino when he genuinely wouldn't have given (has never given) half of a shit if it had actually been Angel Dust?

And he also knows what Alastor is like. I think his decision would be forced by the fact that despite what happened, Alastor is alive and Valentino is very much about to not be. In a triage situation, one of those people is by default a higher priority.

Alastor, of course, would never forgive that. He would also never forgive the fact that Vox knows what happened—and knows it in a universe where Alastor had dared allow Vox liberties and slowly, eventually, trusted him not to abuse them.

Like I said! It would absolutely nuke the relationship, and I think Alastor would put a great deal of effort into turning all of V Tower and its inhabitants, likely especially Vox, even moreso than Valentino, into so much rubble and a wet smear on the ground.

[greghatecrimes]

i have this vision of house carrying thirteen by her ankle into wilson's office and just holding her out to him as she's giggling because he wants wilson to watch her for a bit because he can't let her near one patient or something

wilson being unsure how exactly to grab her from that position

Have a very quickly written ficlet, anon!:

PPTH, circa 1993ish:

Wilson's in the middle of a meeting when the sound of laughter and familiar footsteps floats into his office from the hallway. He doesn't even bother trying to finish whatever sentence he'd been in the middle of; instead, he breaks off and lets loose a long sigh.

"...Is... everything alright?" The patient he'd been talking with asks, watching him with slightly widened eyes.

"I'm so sorry." He runs a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to put his head down on the patient files stacked in front of him. "You know, I just have this terrible headache. It comes and--"

The door to his office bursts open. In steps one Greg House, accompanied by the source of the childlike giggling that had been the harbinger of his arrival: his two and a half year old daughter, who's dangling from House's hand by one ankle. She sways back and forth in midair when House steps over the threshold and into the office, causing her face to flush red and her laughter to bubble up, crisp with joy.

"...Goes," Wilson sighs, and gets to his feet. "I'm so sorry. This will be just a minute."

"Hey, Wilson!" House greets, completely unperturbed by the fact that he's just walked into a private consult. "Take Thirteen for an hour, will you? I'm not supposed to have my hands full around my new patient."

"House," Wilson groans. "How many times do I have to tell you to just hire a babysitter–"

"Don't need one! Really, it's just an hour! Cuddy said they think the patient has TB or something else deliciously contagious. Can't let this germ magnet–" he shakes Thirteen for extra emphasis, and she laughs even harder. A fond smile pulls at his lips. "Anywhere near that."

"Oh, my," Wilson's patient says from between them, and Wilson's not sure if she's referencing the tuberculosis or the child dangling upside down, clearly delighted at being handled by her father like a sack of potatoes. "Is she alright?"

"My patient?" House asks. "Bleeding out of her eyeballs, last I heard, so I really need to-- oh, you meant the kid." House gives her another shake, and this time Thirteen laughs so hard that it borders on a shriek. "She's fine, she loves it. Begs me to throw her around all day long. She'd be crawling around on the ceiling if she could. Like a little spider-monkey, aren't you?" Thirteen grins, her smile flashing white like an upside-down crescent moon.

She's too damn cute, Wilson thinks. House is all too aware of this and wields it like a weapon. He lets out another long-suffering sigh.

"I'll take her," he relents, and steps out from behind his desk. "C'mere, Munchkin." He reaches for her, only to freeze when he realizes he's not quite sure how to grab her.

"Do you need–" his patient starts to ask.

"I'm fine, thank you," Wilson says loudly. He knows he's the less-experienced one out of the two of them when it comes to children. He doesn't need his own patients reminding him of that. "Here we go. Nice and easy." He decides to grab Thirteen by the waist. She's small enough that he manages to get her flipped right-side up without having to set her down on the floor or the desk first.

"Hi, Jimmy." Thirteen settles into the spot just above his hip easily, as she always does. Before he can stop her, one of her chubby little hands is reaching for one of the many pens he keeps in the chest pocket of his lab coat. Her fingers close around a bright yellow highlighter. "'Side-down? Again?" she asks.

He can't bring himself to say no. "When your dad gets back," he promises. He tucks a few flyaways behind her ear-- all that swinging around had really mussed up her ponytail. Hopefully she'll sit quietly long enough for him to fix it. "But right now Jimmy has to finish a meeting. So let's tell Dad bye-bye for now, okay?"

She waves at House with the fist that's gripping the highlighter. "Bye bye!"

"Be good for Wilson, you little gremlin," House playfully growls, narrowing his eyes at her. Thirteen laughs and hides her face against Wilson's shoulder for a moment. "I'll page ya when I'm on my way back up. Oh, and I'll order us takeout from that Chinese place for dinner tonight, sound good?" House is already halfway out the door before Wilson can form a response. "Thanks a million!" the cheerfully sarcastic tone floats back to them from the hallway. "Kisses! Mwah!"

Of course he doesn't bother to close the door on his way out.

"Um," the patient says, just as Wilson slides back into his seat. Thirteen has already managed to uncap the highlighter and is now reaching across his desk with sweeping arms, searching for something to 'color' on. He manages to feel around and find a blank notepad for her without pulling his attention from his patient. "I can always come back later, if now is a bad time–"

"No, no, not at all," Wilson assures her, and then sighs in exasperation. "I am so sorry. He seems to think I'm the on call nanny instead of a practicing oncologist."

His patient cracks a smile. "She's quite cute," she admits, after a moment of watching Thirteen. Wilson can't help the rush of pride he feels at that. "She's your colleague's?"

Wilson hesitates. "My..." In his moment of thought, Thirteen squirms in his lap and manages to twist herself around enough to swipe a streak of bright yellow across his face. Wilson closes his eyes. The taste of highlighter is bitter on his lips, but he can't help but smile. "My... partner's." he says softly.

When he opens his eyes again, Thirteen is grinning up at him, clearly pleased with her work of art. His patient is stifling laughter. "Did you want to...?" She mimes rubbing her face.

"...We'll be just fine." He tells her, settling further into his seat. "This one is an excellent listener. By all means, let's get back to where we left off."

[ghxstlly]

Feanger when things get rough

As we all well know, relationships are not always sunshine and rainbows. Couples won't always get along, and can go through periods of awkwardness or anger that can make a romantic courtship really rocky at times. Fear and Anger are not exempt from this.

In my opinion, fostering a ship can be a surprisingly rewarding creative endeavor when you delve into the more negative aspects of a pairing— things they argue and fight about and have to make up over. Don't get me wrong, their happiness and chemistry is the #1 thing that makes a ship so fun to play with. But thinking what makes it tick is an undervalued way to really flesh your ship out in the theatre of your mind.

That said, what do I think makes Feanger tick?

Ramblings under the cut

Anger is a person who has a lot of judgemental thoughts and opinions about others— that's just the way he is. It's one of the pillars of his character, and causes him to be blunt/short with others. It isn't that he's necessarily trying to be malicious or hurtful, it's moreso that what he thinks is right and what he thinks others ought to do or be is often at the forefront of his mind when interacting with his colleagues.

And while a lot of that stuff is not expressed, his temper can cause some of these opinions to burst out in a way that is usually tactless and/or hurtful.

Anger is also not a person who apologizes. Seldom does he feel he's in the wrong after doing or saying something, it's part of his bluntness and sometimes harsh ways of going about things.

Combine these two negative traits, and you can end up with arguments or fights where potentially hurtful things are said but not apologized for, because although Anger wouldn't normally say them out loud, oftentimes he still believes them to be true. Again, it isn't a matter of him being abusive or intentionally malicious, he's just overly opinionated/judgemental.

Fear is not necessarily a person who can easily handle that kind of scrutiny. Although words of that sort sting him about just as much as they'd sting anyone, no more no less, it's the self doubt and stress that manifests as a result that gets to him. Insults and jabs he can handle fine, in fact he's just as capable of saying things in the heat of the moment that have the potential to be hurtful, but afterwards, while they "cool down," anxious thoughts form that maybe Anger doesn't like him as much as he thought he did, and a wide gap forms between them where he and Anger seldom speak or interact.

It's an uncomfortable, mutual "shunning" that occurs, wherein Fear grapples with the anxiety that they may never be close again while Anger gradually becomes remorseful but is either too hesitant or too proud to act on it.

The longest I would imagine this going on for is a full week and a half, the shortest, maybe four days. During that time, starting out in a mutually upset state, they "cool down" over time and slowly come back together until some semblace of an apology occurs. While this is usually implicit, that is to say, the apology is made without ever actually saying the words, Fear will sometimes find something to explicitly apologize for, mostly for his own reassurance as arguments/fights with Anger tend to take a toll on his self-image and perception of his role in their relationship.

Now, I know all that sounds rough, but something I'd like to make sure is said is that while Anger almost always means the hurtful things he says during moments of high stress (even if the wording is a little skewed from the actual opinion), he is equally honest with his reassurances and praise (even if he sometimes has a difficult time expressing them), which is a fact Fear is aware of and trusts.

Ultimately the relationship between Fear and Anger stands on the pillars of mutual respect and trust. They are aware of one another's weakness and where their own strengths compliment the other's, which helps them understand one another and strengthen their bond.

And although they have moments where their big personalities clash in less-than-pretty explosions of nasty emotions, they always manage to get through it. :) 💜❤

[otakusheep15]

Would They Survive Waffle House?

This came to me in a vision.

Riddle - absolutely not

He would collapse as soon as he walks in. Thinks it's utterly horrifying and refuses to come back. he also yells at someone and gets decked.

Trey - maybe

Better than most, but he doesn't like it very much. Complains that he could've made better and with less chaos.

Cater - yes

Absolutely could survive, but that doesn't mean he enjoyed it. However, he did get some great videos of people brawling out front, so that's a plus.

Ace - 100% yes

This boy thrives in chaos. He'd fit right in with all of the other freaks. Most likely to start a fight for funsies. Definitely gets punched tho.

Deuce - depends

As his delinquent self? Yes, he is ruling the Waffle House. As his new honor student self? He is calling his mom and begging her to come save him. He hates it here and wants to leave asap.

Leona - yes

Literally just sleeps through the chaos. And if someone tries to fight him, he'll just beat them up. He refuses to touch the food tho.

Ruggie - absolutely

He's the king of the Waffle House. Loves how cheap the food is, and enjoys the free entertainment (fights). Lowkey tries to start fights so that he can steal other people's food while they're not looking.

Jack - no

Could easily beat someone in a fight, but he hates the vibes. He takes one step inside and immediately attempts to turn back, but Ruggie makes him stay.

Azul - dead

He's dead the moment he walks in. Honestly, he never stood a chance at surviving here. He sees something move in the corner and freaks out.

Jade - yes

Find the chaos amusing, but he refuses to sit down anywhere or consume any food. Won't start a fight, but will end several. He also enjoys seeing Azul freak out.

Floyd - thriving

This place was practically made for him. He unironically loves the food, and he fights literally everyone he sees. Multiple people have tried to drag him out and he refuses to leave. Also tries to get a job so he can stay.

Kalim - undecided

He doesn't even get to go inside. Jamil will not let him step foot into the Waffle House under any circumstances. Thinks it sounds fun tho, so he's sad he can't go.

Jamil - yes, but begrudgingly

Yes, he could survive, but he doesn't want to. He steps inside and immediately wants to die. The only reason he's here is to make sure no one gets in trouble and/or does something illegal. Could do well in a fight if needed.

Vil - screaming

This is his worst nightmare. He's in so much mental pain just from the decor alone, and that's not even the half of it. It's gross, the food looks like it spoiled decades ago, and he could have sworn he saw something move in the corner.

Rook - yes

He finds the atmosphere comforting. The food isn't great, but that's not what he came here for anyways. Watching people get into brawls is enjoyable to him.

Epel - southern

Boy is a born and raised southerner, so of course he could handle it. He's getting into all sorts of fights and absolutely demolishing several plates of suspicious-looking waffles. Having the time of his life until Vil makes him leave.

Idia - social anxiety

Please let him go home. His anxiety cannot handle being in a situation like this. Passes out the second he sees other people fighting. Tries to hide in the bathroom but immediately regrets it when he sees what it looks like.

Ortho - yes

It's not like he can eat the food, and no one could possibly beat him up since he's made of literal metal, so he's all good. Spends most of his time protecting Idia and making sure he's still alive.

Malleus - yes and no

He could handle it in theory, but he refuses to actually go inside. Could potentially be persuaded to give it a try, but for now he wants nothing to do with the Waffle House.

Lilia - the inventor of Waffle House

Honestly, wouldn't be surprising if he secretly owned the Waffle House. Lives for the chaos, and the food looks like something he'd cook.

Silver - hesitant yes

Only survives because he fell asleep. If he were awake, he would hate it. He went in because Lilia made him, but he does not want to be there.

Sebek - no, but yes

He's good at fighting and fending for himself, but he's constantly complaining about how horrible it is. Goes on a long tangent about how him being here is a disgrace to his precious Waka-sama and all that. Still, he could survive if needed.

I am half asleep while writing this, so this entire post might sound like complete nonsense, but I needed to write it down. Anyways, if I'm going to a Waffle House, I'm taking Ruggie, Floyd, and Epel with me.

[wbswag]

Rjdjdndjfdn so you've found my sideblog I see, rjdifnd TY

But yeah, I only just got back into my hero after having a severe interest shift and I'm rewatching the eps, I think the anime played it so Kai looked like the one escalating everything though he had a good point I agree I dont think you were dunking on the league they do a lot of things deserving of criticism and we all know Shiggy didnt start being the beat leader until he had some skills under his belt of we literally need to care about our alleys, in the scene where Kurogiri was talking to him about of he cared if any of the guys he made go to the training camp died or not Shiggy said he does care not only because what they can do but in the long run I dont remember what he said word for word but he made it clear he cares about them and what they think/want and I guess he felt like Overhaul was insulting that but he didn't jump to attack Overhaul it was his guys flying off the handle, and he even told them to stop after Magne he told Compress no dont attack and only Toga and Twice listened because they had to get Compress to a hospital after that Kai said "I didnt mean to want to k!ll Magne, let's take a break and both calm down, because murder isn't productive. I owe your side an arm" that's almost word for word what he said in the dub, I dont think he intended to come there to hurt anybody he wanted to talk business

AND THIS IS COMING FROM SOMEONE WHO BARELY REMEMBERS ANYTHING AND WATCHED HALF A SCENE LAST NIGHT I fully agree with you that he did not start this/ intend for this to happen like this.

Yeah!! I know I didn’t really mention it, but Shigaraki wasn’t exactly the one lunging for Chisaki’s throat, either. I kinda think the main reason he attacked Chisaki at all is bc he saw how much damage he was doing so easily and like. Panicked/wanted to intervene. He wasn’t the one that talked smack either, so.

It’s clear that Shigaraki has never thought of the LOV as just pawns, unlike Chisaki (although, if I wanted to really deep-dive and reach, I could talk all about how I think Chisaki views himself as, like, somehow more unforgiving/monstrous than he actually is. Or maybe like, perpetuates himself as more unforgiving/monstrous than he is?? Both? Both. Idk), and that definitely rubbed salt in the wound, since Overhaul’s way of speech and behavior definitely signals that he does not view others as… I’m gonna say equals, even though that’s not exactly what I mean (I think how he perceives humans/humanity as a whole is very complex/complicated at like, literally every turn, but that’s not really relevant rn lol). I kinda think Chisaki doesn’t really care about what/who his subordinates are as long as they’re not interfering with his plans, whereas Shigaraki wants his band of misfits to achieve their own goals/dreams alongside him. Different mindsets, same outer result.

Buuut, I think the main thing I want to talk about is how I think the whole meeting would’ve gone a lot smoother if it’d been just Shigaraki & Chisaki meeting instead of Chisaki meeting the (almost) whole League. Like stated before, Shigaraki did attempt to shut down Compress before he attacked Chisaki, and before Magne attacked Chisaki, Shigaraki had told Chisaki to just get out, so I definitely don’t think he had any intentions to pick a physical fight.

Then, later, during the second meeting where Shigaraki went to the Hassaikai, Chisaki similarly shut down Mimic and Kurono when they started going off on Shigaraki, and said that they should at least hear Shigaraki out, as well as kept a relatively cool head despite Shigaraki’s (intentionally) abrasive behavior. So basicalllyyy… I think they might’ve actually been able to work out a genuine, actual agreement, had it just been the two of them from the get-go. Not saying that it’d be guaranteed, but there’d be a chance, I think. There’d have been no blood spilled, I’m pretty sure.

But yes. I don’t think Chisaki wanted to fight them. He was just prepared in the case that they attacked. Which… they did, so. Think he’s used to ruffling feathers, regardless of how much he intends to.

[roses-for-rosalyn]

The Patrol Tower

Chapter 2

This is a short one, but I’m trying to give y’all a proper taste of my vision

Just when you start to stand up to go rescue Abby, she emerges from behind the vehicle holding her side. She makes her way back towards the watchtower, walking alarmingly slow. Shit, if she’s seriously injured you’re not sure you are equipped to handle that. You rush over to the top of the ladder to greet Abby.

When she appears at the base of the tower you whisper shout “Can you make it up on your own?”

“Yup, I got it you just sit up there and look pretty.” She replies sarcastically.

“Aww you think I’m pretty?” you shoot back. Abby pauses climbing up the ladder just to stare at you blankly, your attempt to lighten the situation was clearly not appreciated.

Once she is back up in the tower you immediately go into medic mode.

“Let me see.” you say indicating for her to lift up her shirt.

“Don’t be ridiculous, it barely grazed me.” She replies, waving you off.

“You’re bleeding.” You look down and point out the blood stain starting to form by her ribs “A lot.”

You take a breath. “Look I’m not gonna leave you alone until I look at it to make sure you don’t need stitches. We can do this quickly and easily, or you can decide to be stubborn about it and I’ll have to tackle you.”

Abby laughs a little but you catch her slight wince at the movement “Yeah, like you could tackle me.”

“Sit down.” you point to the corner where she set her sleeping bag.

Surprisingly she obeys, leaning up against the wall while still holding her side. You go to your pack, pull out your med kit and a flashlight, walk over to Abby, and kneel beside her.

“Can I?” You ask lightly tugging at the hem of her shirt. She nods and you pull the t-shirt up slowly revealing the wound. It’s a pretty deep gash, but it’s small enough where you can manage to stitch it up.

“You’re gonna need stitches.” You say, still studying the wound.

To your surprise Abby just nods. Maybe the blood loss has made her compliant or maybe she just gave up. Either way you’re grateful you didn’t have to fight her over it. You take out a wad of gauze and begin applying pressure. Abby winces and you look up at her startled by the noise.

“Sorry.” You say genuinely.

Soon enough the bleeding starts to slow down. Now starts the hard part, mostly for Abby. You pull out a bottle of alcohol and unscrew the cap.

“You ready?” You look at Abby for confirmation and she nods.

You pour the alcohol out on your hands before pouring it on another piece of gauze and begin cleaning Abby’s wound. Her stomach muscles contract, her face scrunches up, and she lets a hiss out through her teeth. Other than that she barely moves. It makes you wonder how many times she’s been stitched up like this. You discard the piece of Gauze and prep the needle and thread. You put the small flashlight in your mouth and steady it onto the wound. You realize you’re going to need a better angle in order to do this. You sit up and move one leg over Abby’s waist to straddle her. She looks immediately surprised, but before she can say a word you start stitching her up.

“Fuck” Abby immediately hisses out.

She begins taking short, shallow breaths and clenching her jaw. As you progress you can’t help but notice how incredibly defined her abs are. Every one of her muscles flexes and contracts as you pull the needle through her skin. All the veins in her arms were popping out as she was desperately trying to grip onto the floor for any kind of relief. You may hate her but you feel bad watching her suffer like this. You take her hands and place them on the backs of your calves.

“Squeeze as hard as you need.” And fuck she definitely did. You think she was trying her best to be conscious of her strength, but there’s only so much she can control in her state of pain. You figure it’s not even half as bad as whatever she’s feeling and still manage to keep the needle steady despite the bruises forming on your legs.

You are almost finished when you realize you have begun to drool because of the flashlight you held in your mouth. It drips down to your chin and right before it makes its way any further you feel Abby pinching your chin between her thumb and pointer finger. She uses her thumb to swipe the spit off your chin as you finish successfully closing her wound. You cut the thread and look up to meet Abby’s eyes and she’s staring at you. Her eyes flick up to meet yours and she licks her lips. You suddenly realize how tightly your thighs are squeezing around her and you open your mouth slightly in surprise. The flashlight drops out of your mouth and onto Abby’s lap. The act causes you to snap back to reality and you scramble off her lap.

Abby lowers her shirt whispering a quiet “Thanks.”

“Yea no worries.” you say. Trying your best not to give away how freaked out you are right now. “I’ll keep watch a little longer so you can rest.”

You start to close up the medical kit when you spot painkillers. Shit you forgot you packed them. she went through all that agony just because you forgot. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Uh Abby,” you say nervously, “I forgot I had these, but they should help you get to sleep.” She flicks her eyes down at your hand with the painkillers and back up to your eyes.

“You couldn’t have given these to me thirty minutes ago?” She asks accusingly.

“I forgot I packed them. I'm sorry I sort of panicked.” Abby just looks at you, narrowing her eyes and takes the pills. She curls up under her sleeping bag and you sit down in the metal chair and face the field. You can feel her staring at you, but you don’t want to turn around and make it weird.

“Did you find anything out there, you know before they shot at you?” You ask the question quietly facing away from her still.

“They were definitely Scars, nothing significant on them, but we should probably report the incident.” You nod and grab the walkie talkie attached to the radio. You quietly call in the Scar sighting, you tell the command how many there were and confirm that they are dead. You say nothing about Abby’s injury because you’re pretty sure she’d strangle you if you ever implied to anyone she was weak or injured.

You put the radio down and turn around to check on Abby. To your surprise she’s not asleep, she’s still staring at you.

“Fighting those meds pretty hard right now aren’t ya?” Abby smiles a little, oh yeah she is.

“I’m not tired.” She says, like a stubborn child.

“You should really get some sleep. It’ll help you heal.”

She ignores you and slurs out “I like staring at you, jus’ let me do it in peace. Is’ better when you don’t talk.” This causes you to scoff a little. You have no idea if this is Abby or the pain meds talking, but maybe you can get the truth out of her easier this way.

“I thought you hated me, now you like staring at me?” You ask, hoping to prompt her to explain herself.

“I think you’re nice to look at, doesn’t mean I can’t still hate you.” She’s still smiling a little, god it’s kind of adorable the way she’s fighting the meds this hard.

“You know,” she says, starting to sit up, “You were annoying from the start.” You rush over and kneel next to her, carefully encouraging her to lay down so she doesn’t reopen her wound.

“Yeah?” you say trying to encourage her so she’ll let you tuck her in.

“Yeah because all the boys thought you were pretty, and also you are bad at too many things.” She pauses trying to think. “When you firs’ showed up you were bad at errerything and it was so annoying. You were helpless, I couldn’t imagine how you stayed alive as long as you did. ” She smiles bigger at her little joke. She’s starting to quiet down a little, finally succumbing to sleep.

“Well I’m pretty good at things now. Not everyone is like you and good at everything they do.” You say whispering now.

“Yeah” she closes her eyes, still smiling a little. “Now I’m almost out of reasons to hate you.” she whispers.You have no idea what to say back to that so you pull the sleeping bag up to her chest and walk back over to the stupid metal chair.

So that’s why all the staring was happening? She realized you were good at things? She saw you shoot down a Scar and Stitch her up perfectly and that’s all it took for her to start liking you? There has to be something else, or Abby is just exceptionally good at holding a grudge.

Notes and comments always appreciated lovies 💕

[theweirderstuffblogdontlook]

Part 1 of 2

So this comic is to help explain a few things for the people who refuse to read the fanfics. So the possession amulets connection, also let’s Bob sense his captive and what they are doing/feeling even at a distance. Which is a big part of how he is able to track her down when she makes escape attempts. As well as how he can more easily know when best to sneak up on her to catch her unawares. Though the captive does not have this same power unless she’s been absorbed by Bob, where she can kinda see and feel things through his eyes. Under regular use by cult members, this sensory ability gained by whoever has the commanding half of the possessor amulet, would allow them to keep track of whoever has the other half of the amulet in case they had to split up. Both letting them spy on the hostage a bit, and make sure the other half of the amulet doesn't get misplaced. With normal use generally going like this. - Cultist targets a person in a position of power -possesses them completely in order to do some task, and in the process wipes the memory of their possession and the things they did while controlled by the cultist. -the amulet is either removed, or if it is a long term manipulation by the cult, then the controlled half of the amulet will be left in them, and they will be kept tabs on until another task has to be completed, and the owner of the controlling half of the amulet will then focus on this connection to find a good moment to strike to possess the target again. So normal cult use of these amulets is pretty reserved and hands off and geared towards specific goals. Though Bob was very much not in the right mindset to be able to use the amulets responsibly. Even though looking into the connection to see and feel his captive is voluntary, and he can turn it off if he wants, he found a number of the sensations pleasurable, and he’s recklessly done it so frequently, that it’s harder for him to turn it off again, and he’s developed a perception of his captive being almost like an extension of his own body. Making it difficult for him to hurt them in any particularly lasting way, as well as getting obsessive and possessive of his captive. Regardless of if the captive reciprocates his feelings of attachment. Even her basically saying “I fully plan to exploit this information to try and get you to kill yourself“ isn’t enough to really sway him. Though it does still make him question his life choices. But can also see the dude is genuinely trying to make this thing work. One of the side effects of such a intimate mental and physical connection, is Bob can’t really help but be keenly aware that his captive is a thinking, feeling human being. It’s hard for him to dehumanize or objectify them when the amulet connection is basically injecting empathy directly into his veins. Even when he’s getting his ass kicked, he can see where she’s coming from. And it’s hard for him to not get a bit masochistic when he can literally feel how much she enjoys fighting and how much she wants to hurt him. Like I would hope ya could tell from the art, but the first two images show him realizing he accidentally upset her a whole bunch, and being frustrated with getting shouted at, but being aware that getting angry isn’t going to help the situation, so he makes an effort to try and be patient and honest to calm her down. Though she’s not so much in it to get along, she wants Bob dead. So she has a tendency to try his patience more than he can easily handle.

Part 2 is spicy, so I put it below a readmore

Tw: violence, absorbtion vore, general hornyness

Lol, a reminder that this is a yandere bob vore au. Guy basically found someone he could eat over and over again, and the sensations of it made him so hot and bothered he can barely stand it. But yeah lol, hope yall enjoy the funny escalating horny back and forth with this comic. Like of course Bob would be getting even more messed up emotionally than he already is XD. Like first she says she wants to kill him, then does something he considers hot.

Then she pushes him around (he prefers being the dominant one, but its rare for her to initiate physical contact with him, so always a bit startling for him when it happens) but then immediately follows it up something even hotter, almost like a supernatural strip tease.

Then she chokes him and hits him in the face while insulting him, but now the poor guy has his yandere crush literally sitting crotch-first on his face. Dude’s getting the most confused boner. Dude is gonna develop one of the most dangerous of kinks if he’s not careful. Like he’s literally going like Bob: “C’mon boner, don’t do this to me, please, I’m beggin ya. ( ╥﹏╥ ) ” Bob’s libido:

[owlseeyoulaterpal]

In Sight of Your Blinding Light, Chapter One

Astarion Ancunín x Named! Tav x Lae'zel

Synopsis: Mariele Malwyn has lived enough life to know that she doesn't have time for love, not after the outcomes of the last few times she let her walls down. She's made that mistake too many times. However, traveling with a group of strangers and messing around with the gith and the vampire leaves her vulnerable to doing the one thing she's been avoiding for the last fifteen years - building connections with others.

Read on ao3.

Learn more about Mariele.

Notes: Discussions of sex, but no smut in this first chapter. Word Count: 2.5k

Chapter One

Mariele didn’t get along well with others.

Her previous clients had told her more than once or even twice that she should work on her people skills. She didn’t really understand the necessity in doing so and, in fact, thought her skills ‘with people’ were quite fine. Espionage and assassinations weren’t easily pulled off and required Mariele’s full arsenal of ‘people skills’ – everything from seduction to false kindness, to some well-placed tears, to terrifying intimidation. As long as the job got done, who cared whether or not she was nice or even likeable? She certainly didn’t.

Mariele didn’t understand the necessity of needing to get along with others until she had a mind flayer tadpole in her head, and she had, somehow, acquired a group of people who also had tadpoles in their heads that looked to her for leadership. They were a mismatched group with little in common other than their present condition and, if Mariele wasn’t wise enough to realize she was out of her depth, she wouldn’t have bothered entertaining all their individual problems and squabbles. But she couldn’t go this alone, so she was stuck with this unconventional party.

And she needed to figure out how to get along with all of them. 

Getting along with some of them came easier than others. Wyll was a warlock like her, but Mariele struggled to understand how someone could make such a dangerous pact for the purpose of hunting monsters and not for his own survival and longevity. She also thought that her eyes may become stuck at some point if Wyll kept spouting his self-righteous heroic drivel that made her eyes roll. 

Gale’s magic was useful, and his clumsy wit was able to pull a smile or two out of her, but she wasn’t exactly happy about having to forego magical items to keep him alive for reasons he still refused to share. He was handsome and would almost be bearable if he figured out how to close his mouth more often. 

Mariele respected Lae’zel’s strategic mind, her prowess in battle, and she didn’t feel the need to speak when it was unnecessary. She was also the first person that Mariele encountered after being infected and, with all her knowledge about mind flayers, Mariele trusted the githyanki’s guidance the most out of everyone else. 

Shadowheart could’ve been a tolerable addition to the group, but her constant fighting with Lae’zel truly made Mariele wish that she had never convinced the half-elf to join them when she ran into Shadowheart for the third time at the Grove. However, Shadowheart was also a healer, and they couldn’t exactly go without her.

And then there was fucking Astarion.

They met when he put a dagger to her throat, and she had to headbutt him off her. She would’ve also pulled a knife on someone if she was in his position after the nautiloid crash, but Mariele would prefer self-immolation than admit that she and Astarion had more similarities than they did differences. He grated her nerves, and their arguing was exhausting, especially when Mariele could tell that he was doing it just to fuck with her.

“You’re a warlock. You understand how dangerous the wrong deal can be.” Astarion said.

“Raphael’s only a cambion – we can handle him,” Mariele declared.

“Oh, can we? Because you’ve got it all figured out, I’m sure,” Astarion spat. She nearly gutted him on the spot. “You know who tampered with the parasite. And why. And what they have planned for us. And of course, you know why we’re interesting enough that a devil – pardon, a cambion – would proposition us. Because if you don’t know that, you may as well sign over your soul now.”

“Astarion, if you are so spineless and eager to take the first deal offered to you that might offer a solution to the worm in our head, then be my guest! No one’s stopping you. What I won’t tolerate is your judgment for me refusing to do the same,” Mariele hissed. “I already have one all-powerful being to deal with. I refuse to bend my will or sell my soul to be stuck with another.”

Mariele did not suffer fools gladly, and Astarion’s talk was exactly the kind that she did not want to entertain. 

“I prefer to lean into the wisdom of keeping my options open rather than being foolish enough to believe that I’m powerful enough to deal with this tadpole on my own. I figured you would be more open-minded since you already sold your soul once,” Astarion sneered. 

“You have no idea what kind of deal I have.”

“You don’t exactly strike me as a good negotiator. You seem like the type to rely more on your good looks than your brains.”

“Takes one to know one,” Mariele sassed.

She felt like she fell into a trap when she saw Astarion’s lips curl into a smirk.

“Darling…you think I’m good-looking? I’m flattered,” he teased.

Mariele opened her mouth to retort.

“Can you two please cool your tempers? It’s not safe for you to be making all this racket out here in the wilderness. Let’s focus on finding Halsin,” Shadowheart interjected. 

They continued on their walk and Mariele tried her best to push their encounter with Raphael from her mind. In the nearby forest, she stopped in her tracks as she looked at a dead boar. As she kneeled to look at it more closely, she knew it was stone-cold dead, but nothing looked wrong with it except for two holes in its neck. It was probably safe to take the meat. If living on the streets taught her anything, it was not to pass up what could be a perfectly good meal, especially since it would be enough meat to feed the entire camp.

“Are you quite done staring at carrion?” Astarion bristled. Mariele whipped her head around to look at him. He was grimacing, but he seemed nervous. Mariele stood, holding his gaze the entire time. Was he really trying to pick another fight with her and this time over a carcass? He maintained eye contact with her, but as he blinked and looked away for a second, she knew that he was hiding something.

“You know something about this, don’t you?” Mariele prodded.

Astarion glanced down at the boar, back at Mariele, and then he cleared his throat. “It’s been…killed by a vampire. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to worry you,” he started hesitantly, but then finished his thought far too quickly “They’re ferocious creatures, but don’t worry. I’ll keep watch tonight,” he said. 

“And how do you know so much about vampires? Encountered many as a magistrate?” Mariele asked. She thought his vague summary about his life in Baldur’s Gate was bullshit. She had been in front of several magistrates when she was caught for theft, and she had never seen him once, not even just walking around the courthouse.

“Enough to know that we should avoid them at all costs or be prepared to defend ourselves,” Astarion replied. 

“Hmm,” Mariele hummed. “You’re not wrong. I’ve only encountered two in my time. I definitely shouldn’t have survived the first time.”

Astarion’s eyes widened, and his eyebrows lifted.  “Oh? Well, go on. What happened?” He said as Shadowheart and Wyll continued through the forest.

Mariele hesitated and looked him up and down. She could sacrifice this bit of personal knowledge. It wasn’t the most terrifying tale she had in her past. It wasn’t anything he could use against her. Hell, maybe sharing this one thing will do something to make this allyship more bearable.

“I was probably twelve. I was trying to rest near the docks. Some other kids had already warned me there were vampires around, so I had a stake. This tiefling woman walked up to me and started asking if I needed any food. Told me she knew somewhere I could eat and have a bed,” Mariele began, replaying the terrifying memory in her head, but trying her best to retell it as calmly as possible. Astarion wasn’t even looking where he was stepping, his eyes solely on her as she talked.

“She kept getting closer and eventually I saw her eyes were red, which isn’t unusual for a tiefling, but her eyes were glowing. She tried to snatch me up. I stabbed her with my stake, but it wasn’t exactly enough to kill her. Just enough to scare her off. I picked up my bedroll and ran until I couldn’t anymore. I slept outside the Elfsong that night.” Mariele bent down and pulled a few raspberries from a nearby bush.

There was a moment of silence and Mariele focused on counting the raspberries to dispel the renewed feelings of fear that rose up as she was almost transported back to the docks. All the memories of that time were coming back up to choke her.

Astarion finally spoke. “That sounds dreadful,” his voice quivered. He cleared his throat again. “And the second?” he asked. 

“Oh, I was in Neverwinter doing a task for my patron. He came in through my open window at an inn. That was last year. I knew how to use a stake that time,” Mariele said.

Astarion nodded. “Well, no need to worry about anyone coming near your pretty neck. I’ll be keeping watch,” he smiled. Mariele felt her face get hot. This was the second time he’d called her neck pretty, the first time being when they met. It was odd and very specific – definitely not the first thing men usually complimented her on – but it did make butterflies stir in her belly. She chose to swallow that thought down and ignore it. 

Suddenly, Wyll shouted. “Hey! There’s a dog up here!”

“Shall we?” Astarion gestured for Mariele to walk forward, his smirk back on his ridiculously attractive face. “I’m happy to watch your back,” he murmured. She obliged and walked ahead of him, very aware of his hot gaze on the back of her neck.

x x x

They continued on their walk that day, recruiting a group of ogres and killing a few goblins in the blighted village.

As they began to make their way back to camp, Mariele and Shadowheart walked slower than the others to gather herbs. 

“So, is the childish bickering a weird kind of mating ritual for you two?” Shadowheart asked. 

Mariele whipped her head around as she plucked up rogue’s morsel. 

“What?” Mariele’s brows furrowed.

“You and Astarion,” Shadowheart shrugged, as if it was simple and obvious. “You two are cut from the same cloth, but it’s like you two would rather be angry at each other over petty disagreements or insults rather than admit you both want each other.” 

“I don’t want that prick,” Mariele scoffed, shoving the morsel into her bag before grabbing some belladonna. 

Shadowheart leaned over and continued gathering. “The entire camp knows he’s a prick. You’re not exactly that kind either,” the half-elf said. Mariele scoffed at her comment.

“That doesn’t seem to stop both of you, in fact I think it spurs both of you on. Every time he says something ridiculous, he looks at you to see if he’s gotten a rise out of you, and sometimes, I think you goad him on purpose too,” she chuckled. 

“If Astarion keeps it up, he won’t have to worry about the tadpole killing him,” Mariele stood and walked over to another patch of morsel. “And I do not goad him.”

“Are you firmly saying that you’re not attracted to him at all?” Shadowheart’s head tilted mischievously, her green eyes positively glowing. Mariele glared at Shadowheart before turning to inspect the ground. She didn’t respond.

“You can’t deny that. Even I have to say that he is good-looking,” Shadowheart kneeled next to her and helped her grab more ingredients.

“Maybe Gale’s more my type,” Mariele huffed. She and Shadowheart looked at each other and they both burst into laughter. It may have been the first time Mariele had seen the half-elf laugh in the few days they’d been traveling together.

“Do you want to corrupt him?” Shadowheart giggled. 

“He’s handsome and funny, but I do think there are other ways he could be using that mouth of his,” Mariele snorted, closing her now full alchemy bag. 

“Oh, so it’s easier to say that than it is to say that you might actually like Astarion?” Shadowheart teased.

“Don’t ruin the moment, Shadowheart,” Mariele replied as they walked on. 

x x x

Lae’zel’s proposition couldn’t have come at a stranger time.

The party had just finished butchering an owlbear and a pair of siblings that had apparently been searching for survivors of the nautiloid crash. Mariele had wandered off from the rest of the party to look around the rest of the giant cave.

“Mariele.”

The warlock looked up from where she was pocketing a healing potion. Lae’zel stood there, her fists clenched at her side, her feet spaced shoulder width apart. Blood and viscera coated her sleek silver armor. Her signature scowl was there. Lae’zel had a way of looking at people as if they were nothing to her, but there was something different in the warrior’s gaze now. Something about the slight lift of her left eyebrow. The ever-so-subtle smirk of amusement and…approval.

“Yes?” Mariele asked, standing so that she was now eye level with the githyanki.

“I was too hasty to judge you. I thought you witless and unimpressively bland,” Lae’zel declared.

Mariele scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Thought? What changed?”

“You’ve earned my respect. You’ve proven your wits and shown your efficiency and dominance, in and out of battle. The other istik that we travel with follow you and your direction with little fuss,” Lae’zel stepped closer, right into the path of a beam of sunlight that was peeking through the roof of the cave. Mariele’s heart began to slowly beat faster as she noticed the way that Lae’zel olive skin and green eyes seemed to glow under the light. 

“And you’re hardly bland. Your scent alone is enough to make my neck sweat, and my hairs stand on end,” Lae’zel continued. Mariele felt a shiver run down her spine as Lae’zel looked her up and down, as if she was being appraised.

“That’s high praise coming from you.”

“There is no need to praise you. I am simply making observations,” Lae’zel shrugged. “I want to taste you. Perhaps tonight or perhaps later. But I have had enough of just your scent. Do you want to taste me?”

Mariele considered being playful and flirtatious, maybe stringing Lae’zel along, but she figured that probably wouldn’t go over well with someone as straight forward as the woman standing in front of her.

“Yes,” the elf breathed.

Lae’zel smirked, satisfied.

“Good. One night soon, I will come to your bunk and take what is mine,” she replied. Lae’zel turned sharply on her heel and marched away towards the rest of the group. 

Mariele would entertain whatever thoughts Lae’zel had about how their future dalliance would go, but, frankly, she looked forward to seeing if she could get the warrior to submit for once.

[cto10121]

Twilight Clown Takes—Part 6

In which Instagram vies with YouTube on which platform has the most clownery. Featuring even more Bella hate dumb, the ~~~Mormon influences in Twilight, and a lot of hate for Jacob/Renesmee, including a fundamental misunderstanding of imprinting. We feast tonight, on nom nom

Bella Hate Dumb

Tell me you don’t know Twilight is a romance without telling me you don’t know Twilight is a romance.

Of course Bella’s life is going to revolve around her romance with Edward because Twilight is a romance! Her ambitions (which aren’t really many—just the vaguest idea of being a teacher or a librarian) aren’t important—hell, you could say the same thing about Edward! His entire existence constantly revolves around Bella and he constantly ditches his own family for her—even going off to commit suicide because of her.

And yet Edward, for all of his many whinging antis, is never accused of being a weak character. Creep or abusive, yes, but not weak. Wonder why? (The answer is misogyny).

In every one of the examples Clown OP mentioned, the humans either have 1) supernatural or learned martial skills or 2) the monsters they are fighting against have weaknesses that humans can easily exploit.

In the Twilight universe, vampires are literally the humans’ predators with no exploitable weaknesses. Vampires are not harmed by garlic, stakes, crucifixes, or the sun, nor do they have need to stick to hunting at night. No human can outrun or hold their own against a vampire. A young and healthy Carlisle couldn’t even handle a weakened vampire. The only creatures that can hold their own against vampires are werewolves, either the Children of the Night or the Quileute shapeshifters.

Bella is neither of them, and until very recently only learned vampires are real. Very few humans know for sure of their existance. So no, you can’t use the “it’s not an excuse!!1!!1” excuse to justify your misogyny, Clown OP. You can bitch about how the vampires are overpowered all you like (I’ll even agree!), but Bella is not weak for not being able to fight against them. She literally cannot.

Bella literally relates her life to classic literature in every book (Pride and Prejudice, Romeo and Juliet, Wuthering Heights, and Merchant of Venice), bitched about the thin selection of books at the Forks library, and nearly got raped looking for a good bookstore in Port Angeles (#relatable). She is a book girl, all right, and last time I checked, that is a hobby.

Also, Meyer hates Leah so much that she made her leave Sam behind and be free to become Jacob’s second-in-command and made Jacob learn to trust and respect her.

Because Bella’s insecurity is totally not a thing she overcomes and conquers by the end of the series and it’s not framed critically by the narrative. Because Twilight doesn’t totally show Bella’s parentification and how her parents just made her their parent. All these things just do not exist because to Clown OP only the first book and the dumb film series exist.

I literally read Life and Death not too long ago and there was essentially NO difference between Beau and Bella save in very minor details and (actually realistic) 2000s socialization. Beau’s “protectiveness” is largely emotional and ineffectual—it never actually serves a role in the story and Edythe dismisses it out of hand. He is not an active protagonist at all, or at least about as active as Bella is; he is still victimized in the latter half of the book and he even has to undergo a full vampire transformation.

Mormonism!!1!!1

Oh, God, where do I start?

“Humans who became divine—” And who lust for human blood to sustain them. There is already a creature who must drink blood to survive, so use it. Hell, Meyer didn’t even make up the whole “vampires are so beautiful/seductive/seemingly angelic” trope; that is your most basic vampire lore since Dracula.

“Bella’s aversion to drinking, smoking, coffee/tea—” Because a 17-year-old in the 2000s would totally smoke. Bella doesn’t go to parties, as she is de facto the parent of her family, so no, she wouldn’t drink and as the daughter of a police chief she would not have been raised to drink. As for coffee and tea, these are simply not mentioned—a far cry from being an aversion. Hell, no drink other than water and maybe milk is mentioned in the series. Does Bella even mention liquids???? She only seems to describe meals. As it is, Bella does ingest caffeine—she drinks Coke. Also, kind reminder that Bella has no religion.

“Rosalie/Leah feel incomplete not having babies—” Rosalie is a ‘30s girl who wanted to be a trad wife, which includes having children. Leah is worried that not having her period would make her unable to have children—not that she necessarily desires them, but it is weird and disconcerting not to have that option anymore. Moreover, Leah was getting ready to marry Sam, so she may have expected a life together with children. But it makes sense for their characters to be alike in this way, since they are mirror characters.

Meanwhile trad wife Esme is perfectly fine with adopting and caring for others and Alice doesn’t even mention that side of humanity at all. The Denali coven includes a trio of single sisters who loved having sex with human men so much that they decided to go vegetarian—they obviously are not obsessed with babies.

Jacob/Renesmee Hate Dumb

Apart from definitively resolving the love triangle, (thank God) Jacob’s imprinting on Renesmee stopped the Quileutes from attacking the Cullens after Bella gets bitten and changed—they have a law that prohibits harming a fellow werewolf’s imprintee. Moreover, it provides a much more firm alliance between the Cullens and Quileutes, thus resolving their rivalry/hate. But Clown OP doesn’t care about actual plot and theme resolutions, just the “ick” factor of the imprinting.

Meyer technically could have made the Cullens be forced to move after Bella’s becoming a vampire and have Renesmee and Jacob meet later. But I have a feeling that she didn’t expect to write more Twilight so she set up Jacob/Renesmee right away to dispel the love triangle once and for all. Given that Meyer got the idea of imprinting from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, that may have been her rationale.

That said, Jacob imprinting on Renesmee was a key plot point in Forever Dawn, the original sequel to Twilight, which did not have the love triangle—Jacob was just a platonic friend to Bella. Again, for plot and thematic resolutions, and perhaps for future set-ups.

Friendly reminder that movie canon is not canon and will never be because, ha, fuck the movies.

But! This does give me a chance to talk about imprinting in the books vs. the movies. Not only does Jacob never say anything of this sort to Edward in the books, but he doesn’t even have a reaction when he learns Renesmee will be fully grown in seven years. Edward confirms he doesn’t care and his feelings towards Renesmee are strictly platonic.

I read the official Twilight guide’s entry on imprinting—written very neutrally and very careful not to say anything about romance—and it basically confirms this:

If the human is young, the werewolf becomes the perfect platonic playmate and protector. As the human ages and changes, the werewolf instinctively switches roles to fulfill the human’s needs.

This implies that if the human doesn’t want to make the wolf a romantic partner, then the romance will simply not happen.

So what this shows me is that imprinting is not inherently a romantic phenomenon. The fact that Sam/Emily, Jared/Kim found each other in early adulthood and developed a romantic bond was because of the needs of Emily and Kim than Sam and Jared’s. Soulmates, after all, can be platonic.

So if Jacob/Renesmee ever become a thing, it would be because Renesmee herself would want it. Jacob would be incapable even to wish for anything more. In that sense, imprinting is the exact opposite of grooming: It is literally giving all the power to the imprintee.

The movies, quite frankly, fuck all this up. From portraying Jacob’s imprinting as a vision of Renesmee growing up (🤮 and not in the books) to his “joke” to Edward (stupid and 🤮 and not in the books) to Alice suddenly being able to have a vision Jacob and Renesmee together on the beach (in the books she cannot see werewolves or hybrids; this canon was broken by the movies for the fight scene with Meyer’s permission). So no, that is not how imprinting works.

[raes-writing-space]

Yuji Itadori x Reader *Perfectionist Tendencies Comfort*

Warnings: Self-Doubt, a bit of self-deprecation, one mine swear word? Mentions of other jujutsu sorcerers dying. Not beta read.

Summary: You've been wanting to become an Jujutsu sorcerer and help people your whole life, but you hold yourself to a different standard. After making a tiny mistake (which does not feel tiny to you at all) you start to doubt that you'll ever be good enough. Yuji comforts the reader and tells them that we can't all be perfect all the time, that we need to forgive ourselves from time to time, and we can only strive to do our best.

Word Count: 1, 212

A/N: I don't think I made Yuji too ooc, but sorry if I did? To save scroll time it's under the "keep reading" line.

The frustration from the mission you were assigned with Megumi couldn't seem to leave you, even hours after the mission had finished. Things went by successfully, but you couldn't help but dwell on your actions and how you handled the situation. You miscalculated your cursed technique, the curse you were fighting suddenly gaining a sense of speed it didn't show before. You just nearly missed it, as the curse surged forward towards you and knocked you onto the ground faster than you could really process it. Luckily it hadn't decided to attack you, as Megumi had caught it's attention before it came to that. Megumi hadn't even thought about it, even after you apologized for how you handled things, he didn't understand your apology. He figured that these things happened all the time, and if you were the one to coax out another ability the curse had, it was better than finding out later when it was too late. Still, things could have been a lot worse, has Megumi not gotten it's attention, you could have gotten seriously injured, or hell, even killed. How were things going to be when you were up against a grade one cursed spirit? A simple miscalculation like the one you had could have much worse consequences, and a lot more than your own life at stake. Yuji could sense that something was wrong as the two of you had arrived back at Jujutsu High, but honestly, that's just how some missions went. It wasn't until Megumi had told him about how the mission went, that Yuji thought he should check up on you. When you heard a knock on your dormitory door, you honestly weren't sure who to expect. You even half-expected for it to be Gojo. So when you opened the door to see Yuji, you didn't know how you should greet him.

"Hey, I heard from Fushiguro about the mission. I just wanted to see how you were." Yuji greeted you with a soft smile.

You always appreciated how caring he was, it made him someone you could easily rely on. You shrugged at first, letting him come into your dorm to sit and hang out.

"How much did Fushiguro tell you?" "I mean, everything, I guess… But he mentioned you apologizing to him for how you handled the mission. I didn't really understand it, since the way he said it, I thought things went just fine." He explained.

You sighed, you wouldn't be surprised if Megumi downplayed the situation. From your point of view, things felt like they were messy. Maybe for Fushiguro the mission would be considered a breeze for him, but for you? Not so much. You knew that Fushiguro has been at Jujutsu High for a lot longer than you had, or at least knew more about curses and cursed energy than you were. But you weren't that far behind him, you worked hard to learn how to control and maintain your cursed technique. Yet, after today, you felt as if you might not have been working hard enough.

"The mission was a success, but I don't think that things went "just fine." I made a mistake, and we were luckily it wasn't worse." You told him honestly, Yuji's features showed that of concern and confusion in response.

"What happened?" He simply asked.

"I went to use my curse technique, and I… I missed. The curse was a lot faster than I thought, and it knocked me to the ground, but luckily Fushiguro was able to handle it before things got worse… But that's starting to sound like the typical thing that happens when we're paired up on missions."

"Fushiguro told me that you did hit it though, that you scratched it's arm." Yuji spoke of the perspective he had heard.

You didn't know you managed to scratch the curse but that still didn't make you feel any better about the situation, "Even if I did, that's not what was supposed to happen. I should be better at this by now, I've been wanting to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer for a long time, and now that I'm here, I can't afford to just miss!"

Yuji could tell how frustrated you were, he knew that it wasn't just about this particular mission, that this might have been one of many missions that all happened the same way.

"What if I just don't have what it takes?" You questioned out loud, it wasn't exactly what you meant to say out loud. But if you thought anyone could understand what you may be going through, it would be Yuji.

"Hey, don't say that!" Yuji couldn't help but feel defensive for you, even if it was your own words. "Not everything happens the way we want it to. We can try and predict what could happen and adapt but it's not like we'll always be right. Even when the curse did something you didn't expect at all, you still managed to hit the curse, didn't you? That sounds pretty impressive to me." Yuji tried his best to reassure you in some way.

You shrugged at first, "But what happens when I have to fight higher grade curses? What if I don't even have someone else to help me?"

"Then you just do your best."

"What if my best isn't good enough?" You continued to question, and Yuji paused for a second before replying.

"Then that was still your best. Do you think the sorcerer's who die on missions weren't giving it their best? Everyone's best is different, and it might look different on different says or different situations, and it might look different compared to others, but you're still doing your best. That's all we really can do. You can't expect things to be perfect, or else it would be too easy." Yuji answered after a moment, which made you pause as you took in what he was saying.

Yuji had a point, there were so many sorcerers that give it their all, and sometimes still just aren't that lucky. While it's sad to think about their deaths, you thought it would be rude to discredit them when they gave their entire lives to protect others. How would you be any different in that instance? How would you learn to grow and get better without a bit of a challenge?

"Yeah, I guess you've got a point…" You spoke, really thinking about his words further.

It didn't fix things immediately, but it at least did give you a new perspective on things. Maybe you could at least give yourself a little bit more forgiveness. All you really could do is try your best every day, and try and do better.

"Really? Oh man, I was really hoping that made sense." Yuji let out a sigh of relief, making you smile at how could be so wise and at the same time kind of clueless.

"Don't worry, it did…"

Yuji had stood up, stretching and heading back to your dormitory door to leave you be. You followed him so that you could properly send him off.

"Thanks for checking up on me, Yuji." "Of course, you can count on me." He smiled brightly at you, before turning to leave with a wave of his hand.

[shuttershocky]

Hi hiiiiii! It’s been a while, I hope you’ve been well! Thanks a bunch for your advice! I’ve since E2’d my Kal’tsit and my Mlynar!

Unfortunately, I am terribly stuck on the boss in the new event (FC-8) and I require your assistance in some advice please!

Did some toying around with the stage and with Mlynar and Kal'tsit you can definitely take on Eblana with only minimal support from the rest of the team. Here's the sort of layout you may want

The Orange M stands for Mlynar, the green K and 3 for Kal'tsit and Mon3str, and Blue Cs and an S for Centurions and Snipers (any Sniper of your choice, though Marksmen work best). if you don't have Centurions, any melee that can handle the waves will do. The rest of your squad should be medics and a vanguard to make DP. I recommend Therapist medics for their wide range and for their status resistance abilities (status resist works on Burn, meaning even if Eblana and her guys manage to inflict burn on you, status resistance cuts the duration in half)

Protect your blue gates first, then set Mlynar down with S3 equipped to deal with the Swamp Rover in the middle of the stage. Don't worry if Mlynar gets shot a few times before your medics can get set up, he's tanky and can take it. Once his S3 is charged, he can destroy the Swamp Rover with ease. Once that's done, make sure your two lanes are sturdy (fill them with medics), then set up Kal'tsit, Mon3tr, and your sniper of choice to get ready for the bossfight.

The idea here is to make Eblana have to fight Mon3tr while she stands in the muddy tile right in the middle of the stage, since the muddy tile slows down her ASPD. Since Eblana's shield only blocks physical and arts damage, Kal'tsit's S3 can actually have Mon3tr chomp right through her shield, easily beating her so long as Mon3tr is allowed to hit her.

This is why Eblana attempts to counter with her Exhausted Flame skill, where she tangles enemy units she's attacking with fire that prevents them from attacking back. Fortunately, you can actually shoot the Exhausted Flame fron range, it has 10,000 HP but 0 DEF, meaning any Marksman Sniper with their fast attack speed can chew through it in an instant, freeing your operators. On her first life, Eblana can only tie up one of your units, so if Mlynar's skill is back up, he can free Mon3tr fast so your Sniper can focus on helping the right lane. On her Phase 2 however, Eblana can tie up two units at once, which she will then do on both Mlynar and Mon3tr. This is where your Sniper comes in to free them, then activate Kal'tsit's S3 to continue ignoring Eblana's shield.

Eblana is actually quite squishy without her shield, only 30k HP in FC-8. This means that units that can ignore her shield like Mon3tr will kill her incredibly fast. if you didn't have Kal'tsit, you would either have to stall Eblana until her shield runs out, or overpower it with brute force.

Let me know if you need more detailed information, and don't be afraid to change up the formations to better suit your own units. So long as you remember that the critical part of the strategy is making Eblana fight on top of the mire tile, you can change up the rest to suit your needs.

[fllagellant]

Me reminding myself this is my blog and I can say whatever anyways bc I opened c2077 and my brain is hot wired to mass effect rn . Who wants to hear some loose ideas . You do I am making this choice for you .. under the cut bc long post thumbsup

Wrex is a fixer 1000% . Specifically a fixer out in the badlands working with the nomads bc the Urdnots are a nomad clan so he Has that connection + he’ s just setting up shop outside night city to make life a bit easier . He ends up adopting Grunt at some point when he’ s like . 5ish . Grunt still chooses the name Grunt when he hits like 18 and jumps into organized fighting . Wrex sponsors him in these fights . Bakara is Grunt’ s mother figure and runs the little Fixer Business in tandem with Wrex . She also keeps constant check on the Urdnot clan’ s status and such . She also organizes drag races . Grunt cannot compete in these he crashes any car he drives to pieces . She’ s busy half the day , either doing work on her own car , taking time for prayer , or she’ s just gone into night city for some Reason

Ashley is a rocker who took up the mantle after loosing her grandfather and father in corporate wars . She did join militech for a few years but was discharged later from disorder + she was going down the same path as her granddad + dad and she realized she really didn’ t deserve that fate . She still has her old military upgrades and constantly keeps them checked so they don’ t malfunction badly since they are Old models . She likes them and she knows removal would just be harder than the upkeep at that point . She lives in North Oak . I like to think she does both heavier rock and acoustic , depending on her mood

Kasumi is like . One of The Best people to get on your team for a job . Equipped with top of the line cybernetics , some of them definitely stolen from secure government data , she can easily make any job an infiltration job and can keep casualties to the Minimum . Yes she has the behavioural faceplate and yes she does use it to screw with her friends and contacts often it is good for her. She prefers to stay off grid , but has her own little network she jacks into at the end of the day for her own little joys . She probably lives in Dog Town , to keep herself separate from the rest of night city . She’ s a collector of rare technology too , and will do Anything to get her hands on it . If it’ s still in working condition ? She’ s taking it nothing can stop her

Thane and Samara r also fixers , Thane in Heywood and Samara in Westbrook .. I like to think they share gigs with each other often . They are also often on the look out for newer people to night city to try and see if they Need help or if they Can help and try to set them up from there .. Kolyat runs with a gang in Heywood and Thane keeps up with making sure he stays safe + making sure he keeps up with prayer and whatnot . Morinth is another rocker and braindance actor who tries to make her bds as dangerous as possible . Samara doesn’ t approve of the BDs part of her livelihood but will try to set her up with jobs to keep her busy and keep her out of trouble Samara doesn’ t quite approve of ..

Jack does gigs only related to cyberpsychosis . She’ s a survivor herself and she knows better than anyone how to handle someone during an episode . She crashes around night city and doesn’ t really stay in one place for long . She’ s always checking police scanners to see if another incident has been reported Or if they’ re on her ass again . She has a Doberman she rescued that accompanies her around night city , he’ s very good at protecting her bike from being hijacked . She does have a little side car for him to curl up in during rides

Joker and EDI are a “ team “ of fixers . Technically . They both operate under the name Joker and never show their face during any form of communication . EDI is an AI that hasn’ t been claimed by the Blackwall and Joker is in the process of building her a body that can pass as human just with a Lot of cybernetics . They’ re both netrunners and are terrifying at what they do . Joker is ex corporate and survived a zeroing attempt so he is very . Well . He isn’ t the nicest guy ever .. EDI was a project he managed to save before having to go into hiding for a bit . Joker’ s skills let him have near perfect control of vehicles while EDI is better with security measures . People keep trying to guess which voice of the two of them is real and which one is a cover up voice . Since it’ s not like they want people to figure out what is actually going on

[sleepyfaequeen]

Jealousy

A/n: So sorry for those who have requested stories. I am getting to them. I'm getting married so I've been planning my own wedding as of late. I shall be getting back to writing more very soon. Still feel free to request. See you all very soon!

Warnings: fluff, Gabriel Reyes x fem!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Gabriel Reyes x reader

Almost everyone in Overwatch knew Gabriel Reyes as a very sarcastic, dark humored, and seriously scary guy. He knew how to get under people's skin quite easily. He even pissed off Commander Morrison, which was never a good thing. The one thing Reyes never talked about was his home life and for good reasons too.

He was on his way to start the Blackwatch meeting when he enters their private meeting room. He hears the voices within the room quiet down and looks up. His eyes once serious widen as he sees (Y/n) standing with the Blackwatch agents he worked with: McCree, Moira and Genji. All of them seeming to be looking at him and the mysterious woman they knew nothing about. He felt his heart beating fast as he didn't expect such a sudden surprise visit. Was it getting hot in here?

"Reyes, mi amor." (Y/n) smirked with half-lidded eyes that just told him she was teasing him.

"I.. Mi amor?" Gabriel whispers as his posture- specifically his shoulders, loosened up. How can he be so stiff when she was around. The light of his life. "How are you.. all the way in here?" With that sudden question, he could already see how upset his soon to be was.

"Jack, let me in. I even got a special pass for the future." She wiggles the small card with a blue lanyard attached to it. "Of course with a small fee."

"I didn't realize our old Commander Reyes was dat'in a cute lady like yourself." McCree smiles as he approached the two. He regrets ever bonding with McCree. He taught him too many Spanish words.

"Oh, me and Reyes aren't dating." (Y/n) couldn't help but show off her left hand and reveal a golden ring on her finger. Reyes couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at how his soon to be wife showed off she was his. "I'm his fiancé." Something about it made him puff out his chest proudly.

"Oh well, congratulations!" The cowboy cheers.

--

Immediately, Jack could hear his office door being met with multiple bangings from what he assumed was a fist. He hurriedly munched down the churros as the door slides open revealing a pissed Gabriel with Ana running behind him before the doors closed behind them.

".. Yes?" Jack answered after swallowing the churros and wiping the crumbs off his lip.

"My wife made those churros, Jack." Gabriel glares sternly as Ana was breathing heavily from the sudden running she had to do.

"I can tell.." Jack slowly munched another churro before stopping as Reyes spoke.

"They were for me, Jack. You know damn well." He points at his superior who hasmd some crumbs on his lip and cheeks.

"But she offered me some?" Jack argued with a mouthful. His voice came out small before he swallow and continues. "Your being very unreasonable, Reyes."

"Stop taking MY food." Gabriel shakes his head with a sneer. "Get someone else to make you churros, Commander Jackass!" He grumbles as Ana watched Reyes stomp out the office before turning to speak to Jack.

"I'm sorry! I can't handle when something looks so good!" Jack argues as he pouts at his desk.

"I know Jack.." Ana sighs as she looks to Reyes who stomps over to the elevator. "You forget Gabe doesn't like being challenged."

"I wasn't trying to do that." He raised his brow.

"Well.. you certainly know how to pick your fights, Jack." Ana chuckles as Jack grumbles as he munches on the sweetly baked goods. He was sure to ask for the recipe. Maybe then Vincent wouldn't call him bad at baking.