#nor can you say no. you either romance them or don’t do their quests. it’s still railroady like

[vounoura]

I love DD2 so much but I am surprised at how little was changed mechanically from DD1

[eirian-houpe]

Time's Curse - Chapter 7

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold Characters: Blue Fairy | Mother Superior, Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle (Once Upon a Time), Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Baelfire | Neal Cassidy, Victor Frankenstein | Dr. Whale Additional Tags: AU, Original Character(s), Non Storybrooke, London, The Enchanted Forest (Once Upon a Time), Angst, Pining, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Murder, will add others as necessary Summary:

Never fall in love - such is the admonition given to Rumplestiltskin. Blue sees fit to interfere with his plan to reach a world without magic by sending him there herself so that he can pursue his quest to find his son, but he is not alone in this world without magic, nor does it appear that he is entirely free to live his life as he would wish. In the course of his seemingly fruitless search for Baelfire, Rumplestiltskin takes a job as a history teacher at an exclusive private school, and there meets Isabelle - the French teacher. All of a sudden that interdiction against falling in love seems to be really important.

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 7 - Cursed

London, Around 1860

It was cold.

It had been many years since Rumplestiltskin had felt the cold. Life as the Dark One had sheltered him from that, but there was no magic in this world to which the curse had brought him, and so, Rumplestiltskin was cold. Freezing as a matter of fact. Late November, with snow and ice on the ground, and nowhere to go, Rumplestiltskin pulled his tattered clothing more tightly around himself and tried to find shelter.

Everywhere he went, every doorway he tried, people shooed him away, some in anger, most in fear, and who could blame them either way, a ragged beggar on their doorstep with the scales of the Dark One flaking away, little by little, to leave his skin raw and wind burned beneath.

Exhaustion.

That was another thing that the life as the Dark One had made him forget. There had been plenty of times, as the simple spinner and weaver of cloth, that he had fallen into his bed at nightfall exhausted and hungry, but not for all of the years of his life after he had taken the Dark Curse. Dark Ones don’t sleep. Then though, after walking seemingly all over London’s streets, sleep was all he wanted, and finally as dusk began to fall - fearing that the cold and dark might steal his immortality after all - he sank into the lee of a doorway, put his head onto his knees and surrendered to the tiredness and the chill that pulled at him.

The touch of a hand woke him, shivering, and he instinctively shied away, expecting the same treatment he had received in every other place he tried to shelter.

“There now,” a soft voice said, almost singing the words, “Easy, I won’t hurt you.”

Rumplestiltskin looked up at the woman, blinking the wind from his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rasping with disuse.

She shook her head. “You, sir, have nothing to be sorry for,” she told him earnestly, “Unless of course you mean to refuse my hospitality, and then you should be very, very sorry, for you will both insult me and hurt my heart.”

Rumplestiltskin let out a burst of humorless laughter, and the woman smiled.

“Well,” she said, “Not exactly a lost or starving dog, but by my guess, you wouldn’t say no to a nice hot bowl of soup?”

“Lost?” he questioned, and found himself drawn to the woman. “Perhaps more lost than you know, but, yes, by your kindness, I would happily take a bowl of soup, and…” he stopped himself, realizing he was being presumptuous.

“And?” she prompted gently.

“A hot cup of tea?” he finished sheepishly.

The woman laughed, but it was a kind laugh. “Come inside,” she said, “and we’ll see what we can do.”

Rumplestiltskin hauled himself to his feet; no easy task as he was stiff and sore from being curled so tightly in on himself. His ankle hurt him a good deal too, and he limped along behind the woman as she led him inside the building, out of the freezing wind, and into a smaller room within it that turned out to be some kind of office.

“Oh, you’re hurt,” she said as she turned to him and caught him limping.  He shook his head.

“An old injury,” he said, “and I seem to have lost my cane.”

“Don’t you worry about that now, sit, please,” she indicated a large, over sized chair that was close to a fireplace where an unlit fire was already laid. “Rest, I’ll soon get you warm, Mister…?”

Rumplestiltskin looked around himself, his mind racing to choose some kind of name that would be less conspicuous than Rumplestiltskin.  Names usually marked a profession, Rumplestiltskin mused, and he thought of the many things he had done in his lifetime: herder of sheep, spinner of wool, dyer and weaver… 

“Spinner,” he said into her expectant face. “Alastair Spinner.”

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mister Spinner,” she said with a smile, “I’m Mary Tealby, proprietress here.”

“Likewise, Miss–”

“Missus,” she corrected him, though not unkindly. “Or Widow, depending on which you prefer.”

His turn to shake his head then. “You are far too young to be addressed in such a manner Missus Tealby, so that is what you shall be to me.”

“Far too kind, Mister Spinner. Now… let’s see about this fire, shall we?”

She set about sparking a flame beneath the kindling, and he watched her movements; self assured, polite, certainly compassionate.  He wondered what else was the truth of her life, so he asked, “You… said you were the proprietress. Forgive me, may I ask of what?”

She turned to him from where she crouched in front of the slowly growing fire, and waved her hand to indicate the printed broadsheet nailed to the wall behind the desk.

The Temporary Home for Lost and Starving Dogs, the title read, and there was an image of a dog with a walking stick and a sack at its feet. The dog was sitting in a begging position.

“There’s a story behind it. Perhaps you’d care to hear it over tea?” she said.

“I’d like that,” he said, “but I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s no imposition, Mister Spinner, believe me,” she chuckled a little then and said, “To be frank, it’s rather nice to have a companion that can talk back.”  She stood and smoothed her skirt as she did and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go for the tea.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded, and watched as she walked to another door that led further into the building, which he realized then, when she opened the door and he was able to see beyond, was actually a house, and not a business as he had first thought. Another door opened and closed within and he heard the sound of barking, three, perhaps four distinct types of bark. She must be caring for those ‘lost and starving dogs’ in her own home.

He stretched out his hands toward the fire which was now burning nicely, and began to feel the warmth had taken away enough of the chill for him to do without the ragged coat he wore. He shrugged it off, folded it carefully in spite of its condition, and set it down onto a small shelf nearby to the seat in which he sat. It wasn’t long before his hostess returned, carrying a tray on which a tea service stood, and a small plate of pastries.

She seemed happy that he was warmer, and she smiled.

“Could I trouble you to bring over that table,” she asked, nodding towards the piece of furniture in question, thanking him softly as he did. She set down the tray, and then drew up another chair, this one straight backed and nothing so lavish as the one he occupied. Not ignorant of his manners he began to rise, but she waved him back.

“Please, Mister Spinner, you’re my guest, and though I commend you for a gentleman, there really is no need to stand on ceremony here. We are as we find one another, and that is sufficient for me.”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled at that, though he appreciated the sentiment far more than anyone would ever guess. “As you wish, Missus Tealby,” he agreed.

“The soup will take a little while, I fear,” she told him with a nod to acknowledge his previous words, “But we can content ourselves for now on these small pastries, and perhaps when the soup is warmed through, you can accompany me to the scullery - it’s warmer yet in there - and we can have our meal while we keep the dogs company.”

~~~

For the first few weeks, Rumplestiltskin - or Spinner, as he’d come to answer to - stayed  in the house, caring for the dogs, and for some of the domestic tasks, when Missus Tealby was away on other business. It gave him a sense of rhythm, allowed him to find his place in this new world without magic and learn to live without it for the first time in many long years.

Just as he began to feel comfortable in his still flaking skin, Missus Tealby waltzed into the scullery, draped a basket, quite unceremoniously, over his arm, and pushed a list into his hand.

He stared at her as if he were an imbecile.

“There are things I need from market,” she explained, also taking a small purse from her apron and pushing that into his spare hand. “And you, my good man, have hidden yourself away for long enough.”

“No, I–” he tried but she cut him off almost at once.

“You are a respectable man now, Mister Spinner,” at this she nodded to the new suit that he had been able to purchase with the wages the dogs’ home paid to him, “there’s no reason for you not to go out into the world.”

He took a deep breath, and looked down at the list. They were basic supplies, fruit and vegetables, meat - both for the two of them, and for the dogs, soap and scrubbing brushes - there were never enough of those - and last on the list two items that made him look up in question at the woman with whom he was developing a fond friendship.

“There should easily be sufficient money for the purchases, so–”

“It will need to be carded,” he said softly.

“Hmm?”

“The raw wool,” he explained, “It will need to be carded before it can be spun.”

“Then you must buy the equipment you need,” she told him.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because without it you cannot properly spin the–”

“No,” he said. “Why do you want me to get these things - to do this.”

Missus Tealby sighed, and took a seat on the edge of one of the scullery’s many benches, idly scratching behind the ear of the dog that came to her. “Mister Spinner,” she said softly, “I have seen you of an evening; seen the restlessness and the disquiet that haunts you.” She offered him a smile then and said, “I posit that if you were to spin, it would calm you and put you at ease.”

Spinner took a deep breath, regarding her with growing admiration and more than a little gratitude. “And… what will we do with the yarn I spin.”

“I fear it is going to be a cold winter, Mister Spinner,” she said, coming to her feet once more, “And I rather think people will need hats, scarves… mittens.”

“We could use the profits to help support the Home,” he said.

She nodded, “After you pay yourself a fair wage, of course.”

~~~

He followed her directions to the market with only one or two minor detours, one to follow the sound of one of the newsies selling broadsheets. He purchased one, with his own money, and tucked it into the bottom of the basket.  The second detour was to find a florist's cart, that he vaguely remembered seeing those many weeks past when he was first looking for shelter; when he met Missus Tealby, who proved again to be his savior as she had been then, by insisting that he buy equipment for spinning.  It had been a while since he used a drop spindle, but he was confident that he would be able to still.

It was when he reached the market that things began to change. People looked at him oddly, some even moving away, and while that reaction had been quite common and expected back in the Enchanted Forest as the Dark One, it was not something he expected in London in the nineteenth century. More to the point, he found, quite unexpectedly, that it hurt his feelings.

Feelings. 

He scoffed at himself for that thought.  When in the last several hundred years had he suffered feelings of any kind? But that too found derision in his next thought. All the time, you just refused to acknowledge them; shut them away with all of the dangerous items in that vault beneath the castle.

All until Belle.

“No,” he told himself quite aloud, and quite vehemently, causing many more people to shy away. He must look and sound like a madman, he concurred, but he couldn’t afford to think about Belle. She was dead. Tortured and derided by the man that should have cared for her, into a madness that caused her to take her own life… and he had been the cause. “No!” 

Again the denial, again the pain of it, but in another though connected thought. “Love of people, the love of a person… a special someone. No. Absolutely forbidden, because otherwise, it will drive you slowly mad.”

The thought sobered him, allowed him to at least find some equilibrium, enough at least to complete the errand that Missus Tealby had tasked him with, and to do it well. Years as the Dark One making deals, pushing bargains, knowing when to push an issue, meant that he was able to haggle, quite well, with the marketeers, and secure the better discount for the items he was sent to buy.

If people’s reaction to his appearance and his demeanor gave him pause, the satisfaction of a job well done, a deal well made, and with his carding brushes, his spindle, and a bag of raw wool tucked under his free arm, his spirits were lifted, and he returned to Battersea Park Road with a spring in his step.

~~~

Spinner straightened from putting another log on the sitting room fire, took his seat once more, and picked up the knitting he had been doing moments earlier.  Mary sighed and looked up from her needlepoint.

He paused in his work and looked over to her. Waiting for her to speak what was on her mind. She always did.

“We have far too many dogs here, Ruben, I don’t quite know what we shall do.” Spinner set the knitting into his lap and regarded her for a moment. They had long since abandoned formality, and though their relationship was purely platonic despite their closeness, they were on first name terms with affectionate ease.

“What about the stables you mentioned, behind the building on Hollingsworth Street?” he asked.

“How would we manage it? Just the two of us?” She shook her head. “We would need to take on employees, were we to use the stables.”

“And why not, Mary?” he asked. “We have sufficient income, with the donations, and the proceeds of our handiwork.” He indicated the knitting in his lap. “More than sufficient,” he added, remembering the figures in the ledger Mary kept, and kept strictly.

“Do you think we could?” she asked, and her mood lifted, just a little.

“I do,” he said. “One or two, to begin with, will help. We should be able to take in the same number of dogs again as we have.”

She drew her lip between her teeth in a gesture of hope.

“Would you like me to make inquiries in the morning?”

“Could you?”

He nodded, and was about to return to his knitting when he felt her eyes, still staring at him across the slight distance between them.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Are you happy?” The words surprised him and he frowned, and was about to tell her that of course he was happy when she continued, “Only, I’ve noticed, from time to time, you seem… distressed, agitated even. Usually when you return from going out.”

Spinner sighed, as did she.

“Ruben, I’ve heard the gossip,” she told him. “A woman would have to be deaf or insensible not to.”

“Sticks and stones,” he tried but she shook her head.

“It bothers you,” she said. “Don’t deny it.”

Spinner sighed again, and set the knitting aside to look at his hands, still scaly and uneven. “There’s little I can do about it. I have thick skin. I just have to learn to ignore it.”

“Perhaps you oughtn’t to be so sure of that,” she said, and he frowned again, until she passed over a small sheet of paper.

Alphonson Institution for the Treatment of Non-Infectious Diseases.

“What is this?” he asked, looking up from the advertisement.

“As much as I heard the rumors, I also began hearing stories about this Doctor. Perhaps he could give you some insight into what is causing your condition, perhaps even offer a cure.”

“Mary, I–”

“I just hate to see you unhappy because of idiotic, superstitious… bigots who don’t know you the way I do,” she said. “Please… will you at least think about booking a consultation? For the dogs, if not for me.”

He chuckled, then standing from his chair crossed to where Mary was sitting, and crouched beside her seat to take her hand into his.

“My dear Mary,” he began softly, “Why would I not do it for you?”

[iiraven]

Odyssey

Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)

Word count: 9.8K

Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.

Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines​ for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride​ for teaching me how to write about pee!

Attack on Titan Masterlist

Present day:

If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.

In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.

No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.

It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.

Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.

A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.

You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.

You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.

As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.

And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.

It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.

Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.

If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.

Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.

The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.

Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.

The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.

Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.

Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.

It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.

His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.

You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.

The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.

But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god. 

You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.

As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.

“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”

You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”

His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”

“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”

He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”

He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.

“Lemnos,” you say.

The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”

And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”

“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”

“You can’t make it impossible either!”

“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.

“What about Tree?”

Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”

“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.

“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.

“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”

“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.

He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”

You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”

“I know you can too,” he assures you.

You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”

It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”

And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.

Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.

A year ago:

Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.

It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.

Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.

“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”

He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”

The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.

The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.

“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.

When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.

And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.

His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.

There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.

And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.

It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.

He never returned to the sea.

As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.

But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.  

Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.

“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”

Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.

And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.

It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.

A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.

The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.

The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.

You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.

The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.

His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.

After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.

But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.

So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.

Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.

And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began. 

For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.

Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.

What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.

Eleven months ago:

A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.

“Thank you,” you said, standing up.

You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.

“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”

His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”

“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”

You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.

“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”

Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”

“So, is that a no?”

“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”

He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.

“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.

You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.

Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.

“How long do I have?” You asked instead.

“A year and a day.”

“And what will I get if I figure it out?”

At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.

Nine months ago:

Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.

And then you were visited at the river.

Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.

You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.

“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.

Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.

“The waterfall would kill you.”

The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”

You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.

“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.

“I might get saved, who knows.”

“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”

You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.

“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.

“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”

It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”

“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.

“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.

You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”

“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”

You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.

A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.

Present day:

Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.

You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.  

He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.  

But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.

In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.

It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.

“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.

You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.

He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.

Present day:

You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.

You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.

Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.

“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“

“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”

“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”

The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.

What you need is a god.

The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.

She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.

Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.

Well, except one person.

You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.

Present day:

The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.

This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.

You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.

Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-

“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.

“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.

Now, you know.

His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”

Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.

You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.

“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.

When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”

Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.

“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.

“Come here.”

And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.

When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.

Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.

“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”

But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.

“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”

If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”

The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.

“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”

As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-

Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?

“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”

Fuck.

The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even. 

In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.

“Who is he?” Armin snaps.

“It was only-“

“Who is he?”

You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”

Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”

His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”

You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.

“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”

Slap!

“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”

He slaps you thrice.

“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.

Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.

The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”

You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”

Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”

“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin’s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.

“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”

The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. “You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.

“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”

And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.

“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”

What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”

“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.

“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.

“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”

“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”

You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.

He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.

When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.

“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”

“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”

He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.

“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”

You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”

Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.

“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”

“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”

“Good girl, good puppygirl.”

When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.

The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“

He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”

He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”

You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”

Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.

At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.

As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”

But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”

The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.

You expect Armin to disappear. 

You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close. 

Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.

“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.

It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine. 

“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.

“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you. 

“Armin- I- this is. But why?”

For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.

“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.

The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.

A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies. 

[felassan]

Some DA trivia and dev commentary from Twitter

There’s a lot of different tweets, so I’m just pasting and linking to the source rather than screencapping them all or making several different posts or something. Post under cut for length.

User: Was dragon age 2 your favourite in the franchise?

David Gaider: DA2 was the project where my writing team was firing on all cylinders, and they wrote like the wind- because they had to! Second draft? Pfft. Plot reviews? Pfft. I was so proud of what we all accomplished in such a brief time. I didn't think it was possible. [source] DA2 is, however, also where the goal posts kept moving. Things kept getting cut, even while we worked. I had to write that dialogue where Orsino turned even if you sided with him, because his boss battle had been cut and there was no time to fix the plot. A real WTF moment. >:( [source]

Mike Rousseau: I remember bugging that! And then being told it wasn't a bug, and being so confused. Doing QA for DA2 was an experience. Trial by fire. [source]

DG: So I think it's safe to say DA2 is my favorite entry in the DA franchise and also the sort of thing I never want to live through ever again. Mixed feelings galore. [source]

User: (I personally blame whoever it was for ruining most romance arcs in other games for me; they don't live up to Fenris's romance storyline)

DG: I wrote Fenris, so uh - me, I guess? Or maybe his cinematic designer, who put in the puppy dog eyes. [source]

User: If DA2 had just been an expansion, do you think it would have been better received? There was a lot of great stuff in there, and I think my initial dislike of it was because of the zone reuse. If it hadn't needed to be a full game, would that issue not have arisen?

DG: Hard to say. It was either going to be an over-scoped expansion or an under-scoped sequel. If it had stayed an expansion, it might never have received the resources/push it DID get. [source]

User: I'd love to visit the universe where you had an extra year or so to work on it. You did a very good job as it stands, but it definitely had rough edges. Not just the writing team either. The whole game had hit and miss moments, that just a little more dev time could have fixed.

DG: On one hand, DA2 existed to fill a hole in the release schedule. More time was never in the cards. DA2 was originally planned as an expansion! On the other, if we had more time, would we have started doing that thing where we second guess/iterate ourselves into mediocrity? [shrug emoji] [source] 

Jennifer Hepler: This is what I love about DA2. Personally, I greatly prefer something that's rough and raw and sincere to something that's had all the soul polished out of it. Extra time would have helped for art and levels, but it would have lost something too. [source]

DG: Right? I think we could have used some time for peer reviews (and fewer cuts), but I think the rawness of the writing lent a certain spark that we usually polished out. [source]

JH: Definitely. I think the structure (more character-driven) and the tightness of the timeframe let each individual writer's voice really come through. Polish can be very homogenizing. [source]

DG: I should add I'm not, by any means, against iteration. Some iteration is good and necessary. The problem that BioWare often had is that we never knew when to stop. Like a goldfish, we would fill the space given to us by constantly re-iterating on things that were "good enough". [source]

Patrick Weekes: I appreciate your incredibly diplomatic use of the past tense on "had". :D [source]

User: DA2 was my gateway into the series and I’m so happy it is. I love the game the way that it is. It’s one of my favorites of all time. But I am also aware of everything that was said here. If it were remastered, do you think it would change?

DG: I'd be surprised if it was ever remastered. If it was, do you really think they'd change things? Do remasters do that? No idea. [source]

User: Both sides got undercut as I recall. Didn't that whole sequence also end with the mage leader embracing blood magic? It was very much "a plague on both your houses" moment, at least for me.

DG: Yep. Orsino was supposed to have his own version of Meredith's end battle, which only happened if you sided with the templars. That got cut, but the team still wanted to use the model we'd made for him. So... that happened. [source]

DG: I would personally say that DA2 is a fantastic game hidden under a mountain of compromises, cut corners, and tight deadlines. If you can see past all that, you'll see a fantastic game. I don't doubt, however, that it's very difficult for most to do that. [source]

PW: I love DAI with all my selfish "I worked on this" heart, but DA2's follower arcs and relationships are probably my favorite in the series. [source]

User: As I've expressed many times, I love the game, especially it's writing and characters but, for me, the most impressive aspect of it, in consideration of it's lack of time for drafts and revisions, is the 2nd act with Arishok.  What amazingly complex character and fantastic duel

User: Just played it again and I have to agree. Though he is bound by the harsher tenants of the Qun, he makes valid points about free marcher society. Though it is obvious that he and Hawke will come to blows eventually, the tension builds gradually and understandably

DG: Luke did such a fantastic job with the Arishok I found myself sometimes wishing the Qunari plot had just been THE plot. [source]

User: What do you think would have changed, story wise, if you had more time for DA2?

DG: I would have taken out that thing where Meredith gets the idol. It was forced on me because she needed to be "super-powered" with red lyrium for her final battle. Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that. [source]

User: I deeply lament that there wasn't/couldn't be some sort of DA2 equivalent of Throne of Bhaal's Ascension mod.

DG: I'd have done it, if DA2 had allowed for anything but the most rudimentary of modding. ;) [source]

User: I mean, and I think I understand where you were trying, but how much legitimacy did the Templars and her as top Templar have after they're keeping the mages locked up against their will in the old slave quarters? Feel free to not reply.

DG: I think it's the kind of discussion which requires nuance, and which discussions on the Internet are not prone to. [source]

User: Was a compromise that the quest lines don’t branch? It felt like it was supposed to be that way but then you end up in the same place later regardless of what you pick. Like I hoodwinked the templars so good to help the apostates escape but in Act II they were caught anyway.

DG: I remember us having a lot more branching in the initial planning yes. Most of this got trimmed out in the first or second wave of cuts, in an effort to not cut the plots altogether. [source]

DG: "If you could Zack Snyder DA2, what would you change?" Wow. I'm willing to bet Mark or Mike (or anyone else on the team) would give very different answers than me, but it's enough to give a sober man pause, because that was THE Project of Multiple Regrets. [source] I mean, it's the most hypothetical of hypotheticals. It's never gonna happen. I wouldn't be surprised if EA considered DA2 its embarrassing red-headed stepchild. We'd also need to ignore that in many ways DA2 was as good as it was bad BECAUSE of how it was made. But that aside? [source] First, either restore the progressive changes to Kirkwall we'd planned over the passing of in-game years or reduce the time between acts to months instead of years... which, in hindsight, probably should have been done as soon as the progressive stuff was cut. [source] I'm sure you're like "get rid of repeated levels!" ...but I don't care about that. All I wanted was for Kirkwall to feel like a bigger city. Way more crowded. More alive! Fewer blood mages. [source] I'd want to restore the plot where a mage Hawke came THIS close to becoming an abomination. An entire story spent trapped in one's own head while trapped on the edge of possession. Why? Because Hawke is the only mage who apparently never struggles with this. It was a hard cut. [source]

User: I would LOVE to hear more details about this! I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a short story?

DG: I don't even remember the details of the story, sorry. There was a fight, and you caught the bad guy and then realized none of it was real and woke up idk [source]

DG: I'd want to restore all those alternate lines we cut, meaning people forget they'd met you. Or that they knew you were a mage. Or, oh god, that maybe they'd romanced you in DAO. So much carnage. [source] I'd want to restore the Act 3 plots we cut only because they were worked on too late, but which would have made the buildup to the mage/templar clash less sudden. Though I don't remember what they were, now. Some never got beyond being index cards posted on the wall. [grimace emoji] [source] As I mentioned elsewhere, I'd want to restore Orsino's end battle so he wouldn't need to turn on you even if you sided with him. And I'd want an end fight with the templars that didn't require Meredith to have red lyrium and go full Tetsuo. [source] Heck, maybe an end decision where you sided with neither the mages nor the templars. Because it certainly ended up feeling like you could brand both sides as batshit pretty legitimately, no? That was never planned, tho. No idea how to make that feel like an actual path atm. [source] Maybe an option to go "umm, Anders... what are you DOING?" 👀 [source] And, of course, a Varric romance, because Mary took that "slimy car salesman" character we'd planned and did the impossible with him. I can feel Mary glaring at me for even suggesting this, tho. [source] Lastly, the original expanded opening to the game which allowed you to spend time with Bethany and Carver BEFORE the darkspawn attacked. And, um, that's about it off the top of my head. Zack Snyder, WHAT PANDORA'S BOX HAVE YOU OPENED. [source] Shit, I remembered two more things: 1) Restore the "Varric exaggerates the heck out of the story" at the beginning of every Act, until Cassandra calls him on it. Yes, that was a thing. 2) Make DA: Exodus. Yes, I am still bitter. [source] God damn it, I meant "Make DA: Exalted March". The DA2 expansion, NOT Exodus since that was DA2's original name and makes no sense. Because the expansion ended with Varric dying, and that will always be on my "things left undone" list. [source]

User: Whaaaat?

DG: Well, you know that scene in Wrath of Khan where Spock goes into the dilithium chamber because he's a Vulcan? Well, imagine that but with Varric and red lyrium and because he's a dwarf. ;) [source]

John Epler: I distinctly remember referencing the bit from MGS4 where you crawl through the microwave corridor in the split screen, while cinematic battle rages on the other half. [source]

DG: It would have been glorious, John. Glorious. [source]

JE: I don't think I've ever been so certain what a shot should look like as I did Hawke coming in and finding Varric in the broken throne, just like when he was telling Cassandra his story. [source]

DG: It would have come full circle! Auggghh, it still kills me. [source]

User: Lord, you folks are a little too good at this.

JE: The true secret behind videogame narrative is knowing how to make yourself seem a lot more clever than you actually are. [source] 'Oh, we TOTALLY planned that.' [source]

User: Ok, this thread [the DA2 regrets thread, which is the big chunks above] but Inquisition.

DG: My regrets about Inquisition are, more or less, the normal kind. Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. [source]

User: You can keep your Varric romance, I want a Flemeth romance goddamnit!

DG: I would allow for one flirt option, and then a recording of Kate Mulgrew laughing for three minutes straight. [source]

User: I had a hypothesis about the repetitive caves in DA2. They're repetitive because it's Varric telling the story and he didn't consider them important.  They're like sets in a play.  (Okay, I really suspect it was a time/money/resources thing but I like my fake explanation better.)

DG: Hang a lampshade on it, maybe? Cassandra: "But that's the exact cave you were in last time?" Varric: "Whatever. They all look the same, I'm not THAT kind of dwarf. Can we move on?" [source]

User: that makes sense, hypothetically to make Varric romanceable and keep his arc—that had to happen for the main plot—I imagine you would have to make double the content (or more)? which would've been a tall order given the time/budget constraints the game was under

DG: Right. When it comes to "romance arc" vs. "follower story arc", we generally only had time to do one or the other. Never both. Romancing Varric would have meant not getting the story of his that you did. [source]

Mary Kirby: The one exaggeration I really, REALLY wanted, that we never got to do was Varric narrating his own death scene with Hawke weeping over him, then cutting to Cassandra's pissed off glaring at him. [source]

DG: Haha! The one I wanted was Varric's plot where he takes on the baddies single-handedly, sliding across the floor like Jet Lee, action movie-style, until finally Cassandra gets irritated and he has to admit Hawke & the rest of the party showed up to help. [source]

MK: We did that one! (He didn't do any Jet Lee moves, though.) Jepler gave him letterboxing to get The Good, the Bad, & the Ugly showdown vibes while he shot a ton of mooks single-handed. [source]

DG: Wow. Shows how much I remember. [source]

JE: I found it! I remember seeing this sequence as my treat for doing a bunch of much more challenging work. It was fun to see how far I could push our limited library of animations. [link] [source]

DG: Heh awesome. I could have sworn it was cut, honestly. I think I was even in that meeting. [source]

User: no disrespect but that’s surprising and rich of Mary “Hard in Hightown” Kirby to think DA2 shouldn’t have had a Varric romance when she wrote an entire book of Varric’s self-insert character pining over his Hawke insert character… HIH is the reason we had VHawke Summer 2018

DG: I can't *really* speak for Mary, or how she feels about it now compared to back then. I only know how she felt about it back then, and I'm not sure it was as much the concept of the romance but that Varric's entire story would be bent to "romance arc" ...a very different thing. [source]

JH: I remember pushing to have the first DLC start with Hawke having an option to ask Varric, "Did you tell Cassandra about us?" and if you picked it, Varric would answer, "Of course not, baby. I told her you were sleeping with X..." and then proceed as if you had had a full romance. [source]

DG: I still wonder how that would have gone over. x) [source]

JE: Okay, one more DA2 thing. Putting together the cinematics for this scene was a blast. [link] [source]

MK: These lines are my greatest legacy. I want "Make sure the world knows I died... at Chateau Haine!" inscribed on my tombstone. [source]

JE: I was so glad no one said 'no' to the crane shot. [source]

MK: It needs that crane shot. It's the perfect icing on that cake made from solid cheese. [source]

DG: The designers were all "we need more combat" and I think we were all "I think you underestimate just HOW interesting we can make this dinner party". [source]

JE: And finally. I think @SherylChee wrote the one-liner. I think we had a collection of like, 20. [link] [source]

Sheryl Chee: Yeah! Something like that! I remember submitted a whole bunch and Frank said you only needed one. Wish I'd kept the other fifteen. [source]

JE: A random chooser where, each time through the scene, you get a different one-liner. [source]

JE: DA2 is the project I'm the proudest of. I also absolutely get that it didn't land for a lot of people. But I don't think it's inaccurate to say that, in a lot of ways, DA2 defined my career. [source]  Everyone spent a year working at their maximum ability. I was a fresh cinematic designer and was given all of Varric's content, as well as the Act 1 Finale mission. It was a lot for someone who had been doing the Cinematics thing for literally 6 months. [source]  There's some stuff in there I can't look at without wincing. And there's some stuff I'm genuinely proud of. Not to mention, it was my introduction to most of the writing team. Several of whom I'm still working with today! Albeit in a different capacity [source] Also, weirdly, one of my most enduring memories of Dragon Age 2 is how much Bad Company 2 we'd play at lunch. It was a LOT. [source] Every game I've worked on has a game I played attached to it. ME2 is Borderlands. DA2 is Bad Company 2. DAI is DayZ. I, hmm. There's a progression there. I don't know how I feel about it. [source]

User: Is DA4 going to be tarkov then?

JE: I've kind of churned out of Tarkov for now. Probably Hunt Showdown, at least right now. [source]

User: I think people also don't take nuance into consideration -- like I FULLY acknowledge the flaws in my favorite games and will openly criticize them, but that doesn't mean they're not my favorite games anymore??? You can like and thing and still be critical of it.

JE: A lot of my favourite shit is deeply flawed! I acknowledge it and I think it's interesting to dissect the flaws. [source]

User: I still wish Justice was an actual character in DA2 rather than a plot point.

DG: There was a moment during DAI where we *almost* put in you running into Justice with the Grey Wardens, and he's all "Kirkwall? I never went to Kirkwall" [source]

User: Does that imply that Justice was shoehorned in to DA2?

DG: Nah, it was an in-joke where we thought it'd be fun to suggest that "Justice" was simply some demon that tricked Anders in DA2. Wooo those tricky demons! We didn't do it, though. [source]

User: [about templars]  except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

DG: I don't doubt that many people agree with you, and yet people can and do argue on behalf of the templars as well. My place isn't to pick a side, but to provide evidence that players can interpret for themselves [source]

User: Can you shed some light for us on how DA was able to do multiple same-sex romance options for different genders but the Mass Effect team treated them like the plague? What process existed for your team that just wasn't their for the other tentpole franchise?

DG: Different people making the decisions, almost different cultures. I don't know what it's like now, but for many years the Mass Effect team and the Dragon Age team were almost like two different studios working within the same building. [source]

User: It truly boggles the mind. Kudos for doing demonstrably better on consistent queer representation than the ME teams. Y'all never needed us to make petitions to try to get the studio's attention and ask them to do better by us. That's the fight we're once again embroiled in now.

DG: Honestly, I don't feel like tut-tutting the Mass Effect team. They did their part, and if they were a bit later to the show than the DA team they certainly did more than almost every other game out there -- and willingly. [source]

Updates begin here

User: So what was the reason for naming Dragon age 2 "Dragon age II" and not using a subtitle?

DG: As I recall, that was purely a publisher decision. I think they wanted to avoid the impression it was an expansion. [source]

User: Is there no chance of ever remaking DA2 under better circumstances? -Somehow remove the repetitiveness of gameplay by making changes and updating the tech and adding much more to the storyline. It could almost be a new very exciting game.

DG: I'd say there's zero chance of that. Let's keep our hopes up for the next DA title instead. [source]

User: I am a little confused here, help me out here please! How exactly was the cut boss battle with Orsino supposed to work out? How it would've kept him from turning against the player?

DG: It means that, if you sided with the templars, the entire boss bottle at the end would have been against Orsino and the mages. No fight against Meredith. The end decision would have been more divergent. [source]

User: I do remember that one of the reasons going around for that, was that resources were going to the transition to Frostbite. I'm still not fully sold on that having been a good choice. I felt that more time should have been given for that transition considering it was made for FPSs

DG: We didn't transition to Frostbite until DAI. Given our time frame for DA2, I don't think we *could* have transitioned to a new engine. [source]

User: Since your talking about the what could have been for DA2. Could you say what your script was for Anthem? Cause I remember reading that you wrote the plot on that game.

DG: I created a setting for Anthem and scripted out a plot - but, as I understand it, almost none of that ended up being used. So it's a bit pointless to talk about what I'd planned, as that'd be for some completely different type of game. [source]

User: [in reference to the exchange above where DG said “Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that.” re: Meredith] except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

DG: I don't doubt that many people agree with you, and yet people can and do argue on behalf of the templars as well. My place isn't to pick a side, but to provide evidence that players can interpret for themselves. [source]

If I missed a tweet, got the wrong source link or included a tweet twice, feel free to let me know and I’ll correct.

Edit / Update: Post update 22nd April

[docgold13]

365 DC Comics Paper Cut-Out SuperHeroes - One Hero, Every Day, All Year…

Suplemental - Villains Who Are Sometimes Heroes  

Often times, the best villains are those who do not necessarily seem themselves as such.  They are the heroes of their own stories and believe their villainous actions are in the service of some form of a greater good.  As such, there are numerous instances in which a villain will come to act in the role of hero or antihero, where the bad guy is actually the good guy, or a former nemesis becomes a sudden ally.  Following the jump are some of my favorite villains who frequently end up playing a heroic role…

There can be no doubt that both Deathstroke and Bane are bad to the bone. Yet each have acting in the role of antihero more times than can easily counted. 

Poison Ivy is less villainess than ecological warrior.  Her actions may be evil in the minds of many, but for her she is merely defending the wellbeing of plant life and attempting to stave off mankind’s thoughtless efforts to make the planet inhospitable to both flora and fauna alike.

The Flash’s Rogues, especially Captain Cold, HeatWave, The Pied Piper and The Trickster are most certainly cads… yet they all abide by their own particular code of honor and conduct.  As such, they have been many a time where these rogues have fought along side heroes as opposed to against them.

The Shade has been one of the Justice Society’s most formidable of adversaries.  And yet it was later revealed that he isn’t that bad a guy and it was the malignant possession of the devious Culp who was responsible for most of his villainous deeds.  

Both The Star Sapphire and Goldface each began as villains but ended up heroes.  

Knockout and Scandal are wonderful and I’ll hear no bad words about them.  

Brainwave Junior‘s turn as a villain was initially attributed to his difficulties with mental illness, but it was later revealed to be the machinations of the evil Mr. Mind.  Once the little creep was expelled, Brainwave Jr. became good again. whew!

The second Tattooed Man started off a villain but later became a hero, only to be killed in Heroes in Crisis (hopefully he’ll get better like most of the victims of Sanctuary).  As for Harlequin, she only acted as a villain to get the attention of her crush, Green Lantern (Alan Scott)… boy was she barking up the wrong tree.

Bizarro is not necessarily bad, rather he’s naive and easily manipulated and the majority of his evil acts have been the result of coercion by way of more purely evil villains.  And under the right direction, Bizarro can very much be a force for good, such as the time he served as a hero among The Red Hood’s band of Outlaws.  

Anarky is a political extremist and Thorne suffers from some sort of psychological malady.  Sometimes their on the right side of a conflict, sometimes on the wrong.  Are they bad guys… whose to say?

This guy… where do I even start?  Lex Luther certainly does not see himself as a villain; he’s out to save the world.  And there have been many a time where he has achieved exactly that.  He could have been hero on par with the greatest in the DC Universe… if only he hadn’t stolen all of those pies!

Plastique began as a terrorist and villain yet spent a brief time as a hero, a result of her romance with Captain Atom.  Alas the affair between the two proved to be short live, and so time did Plastique’s time as a hero.  As he Deadshot, he’s a stone-cold killer, yet his time with The Suicide Squad and Secret Six has hoisted him into the role of antihero… a role that proved a surprisingly good fit for the deadly marksman.

Cheshire is a deadly assassin who has proven formidable nemesis of The Teen Titans.  When he daughter’s wellbeing is on the line, however, the killer is quick to aide her one time rivals.  

Painkiller started off as a villain yet has recently turned to the role of antihero; mostly a result of the character’s involvement in the Black Lightning television series.  As for Manchester Black, I’m never going to be convince to trust this creepy peet… yet Superman has decided to do just that, recruiting the cad into his new team The Elite.

Both Fataly and Bleez have very good reasons to be as angry and vengeful as they are.  And though both have battled the Green Lanterns on multiple occasions, they have also assisted the corps in joining forces against common enemies.  

Thomas Blake made for a rather lousy super villain during his early years as Catman.  After a much-needed Gail Simone make-over, however, he became a truly terrific antihero.  Plus, anyone who likes cats as much as he does can’t be all that bad, right?

Although technically villains, I wouldn’t classify Jenette nor Black Alice as necessarily bad…  They both just have a different way of looking at the matter of morality.

Don’t mess with Lady Shiva… let’s just leave it at that.

Polymath’s tenure as a villain was merely a result of her desperation to save her father.  Once the Wonder Twins helped her do just that, she resigned from her villainous ways.  Shado‘s deal is a bit more complicated.  The devious archer has proven a formidable adversary to Green Arrow, but there has also been many a time where the two have fought side by side.  

So Dex-Starr is a rage-filled murder machine possessing awesome power.  Yet that is pretty much the case for all house cats, so I don’t see what the big deal is…

Both Killer Frost and Magenta fell into the antiquated trope of powerful women becoming evil due to some sort of hysteria.  Sure they’ve been bad guys plenty of times, but they have each also acted as heroes as well.  

Just like his father, Icicle Junior has taken the road of villainy, becoming a member of The injustice Society of America.  When The ultra Humanite took over the world, however, Icicle joined forces with The Justice Society and played a pivotal role in saving the day.  As for Junior’s baby-mama, Tigress, she remains a villainess… in the DC Animated Universe of Young Justice, however, Artemis is very much a hero.  Feels like only a matter of time before the comic book universe follows suit, turing The tigress from villain to hero.  

Both Clayface and Man-Bat are less villains than they are victims of circumstance.  And while each have battled Batman more times than can be counted, there has also been times where the pair have aided The Dark Knight. 

Once heralded as the greatest of The Green Lanterns, Sinestro’s path to villainy came as a facet of his quest to bring order to the galaxy.  His tyrannical notions aside, there has still been plenty a time where he has once more joined forces with his former allies among the corps.  

Both The Rubber Band Man and Major Disaster began as villains, but switched over to being heroes.  Major Disaster even served for a brief while as a member of The Justice League International.  

Lobo is a genocidal trashbox who has most likely had inappropriate relations with space dolphins.  Yet people seem to like reading about this jerk which has foisted him into the role of antihero.  I still think he’s garbage, but will admit that his daughter is super cool.  

These three don’t even require particular mention.  Catwoman, Black Adam and Harley Quinn’s roles as hero/antihero have been enough that they receive placement on both the 365 Villains list as well a the 365 Heroes list.  Quite the accomplishment! 

A rarity on this list… Terra started out a hero but it was later revealed that she was a double agent, a villain sent by Deathstroke to infiltrate and betray the Teen Titans.  She perished but later returned again, either cloned or resurrected or something like that.  In any case, she’s a hero again so yay…

So there you have it, a collection of scum and villainy who have, on occasion, acted in the role of hero.  Have I missed anyone important?  Let me know.    

[c-is-for-circinate]

One of the major issues with the M9 refusing to ever take or maintain a nemesis for any amount of time is that defining arcs the way we did in Campaign 1--based on the enemy Vox Machina was fighting--doesn’t quite work the same way.  Y’all know how I love me some arcs, though, and I think I’ve got a pretty strong sense for how I’d split them up given the chance, at least from where we’re standing now, so hey, why not write it down so I can reference back to it in thirty episodes when I’ve been proven wrong about where the story’s going all over again?

Arc 1: Getting to know you (OR: Okay, I’m with these assholes.  Why am I with these assholes?)  Episodes 1-25. 

Once upon a time when I was young and very cocky, I wrote an enormous overview of this particular arc, and I think most or all of what I said still stands.  ‘Nuff said.

Arc 2:  Things fall apart (OR: Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.  What am I willing to lose?)  Episodes 26-30.

It is barely four episodes, it is barely an arc, and if I were trying to divide up the series to talk about it in an end-of-campaign episode I’d include these in the previous set, but narratively, this is its own story.

Arc 3:  The cure for everything is salt water (OR: I love them and we’re not talking about it or anything else that matters.  What is required of me?)  Episodes 31-48, give or take.

I very much consider the pirates arc to be the emotional avoidance and recovery arc.  After just barely surviving Shady Creek Run, the team flees the empire entirely and puts to sea.  Plot-wise the story is about U’kotoa and snake cults and piracy, but emotionally it’s all about the characters figuring out, individually and collectively, how to try to be okay and how to begin to step away from the people they thought they were in order to take care of each other.  I do want to rewatch and write an analysis for this one day, about Jester learning the difference between romance novels and real life and Nott spending two months at sea and Beau learning to wait, and Fjord for maybe the first time in his life learning to say no.

(Interestingly, the arc is where the group really starts to resolve the questions from Arc 1.  They’re together because of friendship, and loyalty, and love.  Friendship and loyalty and love are worth a lot.)

Arc 4:  Xhorhas (OR: Now that the shit has hit the fan it’s time to step up and deal.  What do I actually want?)  I call this episodes 49-69, again give or take, because there is such a sharp break when they lose Yasha.

These are the episodes when they stop avoiding the world that was going to shit behind them, and discover they have to actually make decisions about it.  They confront the idea that Xhorhas might be okay and war is complicated.  For the very first time the Mighty Nein has to consider taking sides.  This arc starts with the group alone and helpless in Felderwin, moves through their ascendancy as heroes of the Dynasty, and ends with the Nein using their strength and power just carelessly enough to free something horrific.  Episode 56 in the Bright Queen’s throne room neither begins nor ends this arc, but it does define it: the entire story here is about the M9 coming face to face with the fact that they actually do have power in the world, and they can do something with it--and maybe they have to.

(Again--they haven’t quite settled anything lingering from Arc 3, but they’re starting to make a pretty good dent on answering the questions of Arc 2.  They always knew they weren’t willing to lose each other, but now they’re finding out, for sure, what they are and are not willing to sacrifice on behalf of the rest of the world.  They don’t know for sure what their yeses are, but they’re figuring out their nos)

Arc 5: The aasimar in irons (OR: We are desperate and we cannot stop but we have to be stronger now.  What can we actually do?)  Episodes 70-86. 

Just like the Iron Shepherds, this is a desperation arc, but these episodes specifically weren’t about the M9 coming to terms with just how desperate they could get.  They already know just how desperate they can get.  This arc, following on the discovery in Arc 4 that they have power, is now all about dealing with the consequences and limits of it.  They cannot defeat Obann in open battle but they can complete a step in Caduceus’s personal quest, they can face dragons, they can rescue an archmage.  Beau is an Expositor and Fjord is a paladin, and they are not always strong but they are not slaves, and at the very very end, Yasha isn’t either.

(I’m the weakest on this one because, following the pattern of the story finally resolving major questions about two arcs after they’re first really essential, we haven’t answered this one yet.  It is very, very good at bringing back the question ‘what is required of me?’, though, and presenting us with a team that knows how to take care of each other, that will bury Fjord in magical items and hunt Yasha to the ends of Exandria, that no longer needs to ask what their responsibilities are before they set forth to stop the Angel of Irons.  They already know.)

Arc 6:  How we live now (OR: So this is who we are, after all that.  How do we move forward with ourselves?)  Episodes 87-present.  (My guess: this arc ends between episode 105 and 110.  They’re averaging just under 20 episodes each, so we’ll see.  I suspect episode 97 may have been the climax of a lot of things.)

We’re still in the middle of this arc, but here’s what I’m seeing: an entire party confronting the fact that they have changed so very much in the past 90-odd episodes, and now somehow have to figure out who these new selves are and how to keep going.  Nott is Veth and desperate to leave, to stay, both and neither.  Beau is terrified and self-sabotaging.  Caduceus’s family is going home, but he isn’t, not yet.  Jester is a devoted acolyte and the founder of a cult and so utterly torn.  Fjord still isn’t sure what being a paladin quite means.  Yasha is throwing pit fights and eating seafood and struggling through the aftermath of the entire last arc.  Caleb has admitted to love.   The question here is, has to be, what have I become and what do I even do about it?

(They haven’t entirely resolved what do I want yet, but on the other hand--yes, they have, haven’t they?  They want peace, and they’re going to fucking get it.  They want each other so badly.  They want Essek alive and redeemed and they want Trent Ikithon dead.  They want so many, sometimes-contradictory things, but--they know what those things are, now.  They’re admitting to them out loud.  They just don’t know how to get them yet.)

I don’t think there’s any predicting what major arc might come next, or what big questions it will ask of the characters, but I do think we can start to guess at what questions it might answer.  I expect the next five or ten episodes to be full of characters wanting things and not sure what to do about them.  I expect the twenty or so episodes after that to be a marathon of outward competence as the party struggles in some brand new direction I can’t even imagine just yet.  I expect arc 8 to have real plans for whatever the future actually looks like when all the adventuring is done.  I expect to be dead wrong about all of it.

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Alright because clearly I haven't spammed my blog with enough posts about the Mandalorian, here are my thoughts written out.

The finale has left me very conflicted. The simple fact of the matter is there won't be a resolution to this confliction until after Season 3 premiers and I see what they're doing with it from here. It's in a very raw and tentative spot for me, because it could very easily go bad from where they left it, but upon further-further thought, I've moved beyond being largely disappointed and into more of a "I hope to God they do it right" stage.

Initially, I was thrilled with the episode. I, being mostly distant from Star Wars minus the original 6 movies (which I'm by no means obsessed with) and this show, absolutely did not call that Luke would show up--or R2, lol. Grogu's tender touch of Din's helmet, asking to see his face? Destroyed me. It was a very cathartic ending and an emotional wrecking-ball. But even in my temporary euphoria, I remember being confused as to why we didn't get to see the moment when Din and Grogu were reunited.

Then I thought about it some more, and I became...much less pleased. Why didn't Din ask to go with Grogu and Luke (or at least ask where they're going)? Why did he voluntarily give him up so easily? Why did he take off his mask in front of a room full of people and a literal stranger, thus seemingly turning away from a tenet of his Creed? I was frustrated that the narrative allowed these things to happen when the issues could have easily been avoided by having a reunion scene with Grogu and Din alone before going back to the main room and by adding a couple lines of dialogue. This left me worried that Grogu's story was over, that Din was no longer going to follow the religion he has thus far steadfastly adhered to, and that the next season would be spent having him become the reluctant ruler of Mandalore (another man-becomes-leader-against-his-will story when literally all he wanted, as he stated several times, was to save his son. And he just lost him). I felt that the show used fanservice to cover over the fact that they simply didn't have a narratively satisfying ending.

Looking at it again, not all of my issues are resolved, but I understand a bit more of why they did what they did with the story arc. In all honesty, for as much as I treasure the father-son bond between Din and Grogu, the whole plot of the show thus far has revolved around Din finding a Jedi to give Grogu to. Without that "transaction" actually occuring, the previous two seasons would have felt largely pointless. (Well, isn't the real point of the series about Din learning that Grogu is his son and that he doesn't have to give him up?) That's what I'd thought, but really, if that was the plot of the show, it should have ended after season two (with some changes to the ending). Din should've kept Grogu, and that final moment of "No, he's my kid, and he's staying with me," wouldn't leave anywhere else for things to really go, so the show could end with the "dawn of a new day" feeling of potential (where will they go from here?) and that would be curtains. It would work wonderfully as an ending, and I would have been happy with it, but we have another season (which I'm happy about). This means that the plot has to continue to move forward, and that also means honoring the plot that you've already set in motion.

Additionally, I'd like to emphasize what I've seen some people write about: ultimately, it was Grogu's choice to leave. Din refusing to let him go would be acting counter to all of what he had been trying to do--he was bound by Creed to deliver the child to one of his own kind, and that is what he did. Not only would Din refusing to let Grogu go ruin the trust they had established by denying him his choice, and also effectively invalidate the sacrifices he made on his journey (although he learned to see Grogu as his son, many of the sacrifices he made came as a direct result of attempting to fulfil his quest to deliver him to the Jedi, so refusing to do so would render those sacrifices useless to some degree), refusing to let Grogu go would also mean Din would be turning his back on his Creed. He delivered Grogu safely, and let him choose (as he chose on the Seeing Stone) to go with the Jedi.

And if Din were to go with them, there wouldn't really be much for him to do besides...stand around and watch? That's all he did when Ahsoka was working with Grogu--and that wouldn't leave any room for him to grow (nor make for an interesting show). He himself has expressed that he can't train Grogu and has always treated the situation as one that he can't participate in once he gives Grogu to the Jedi. Although they are ancient enemies, so it makes sense why he wouldn't want to just...hang around, I think it has more to do with the fact that in mentorship, you need to see your teacher as a parental figure, in a way (including in Jedi training--take Anakin and Obi Wan, for example). Din wouldn't want to be a distraction, nor would he fit in in that environment. His life wasn't nearly as fulfilling before Grogu came into it, but really, from both a character and a writing perspective, the only realistic choice is for them to part ways.

Also, it is a little short-sighted to assume that the show is only as good as the Din-Grogu bond is. We now have an opportunity to get closer to Din as an individual, which could be interesting, if they keep his character consistent. I think it would be a huge mistake not to bring Grogu back (preferably next season--maybe Ahsoka is right and he isn't good for training since he is too attached to Din? Luke delivers him at one of Din's lowest moments and we get a joyful reunion?? I would take that), but I don't think it's out of line to try to explore Din's character apart from Grogu.

In fact, it might ultimately be better. If the show can prove to us that we're not just there for the bond, but for the characters and their bonds, that's infinitely superior. And the show does need to avoid getting locked into just one thing. In branching out, it's trying to establish a stronger base for what it should build on later. It also keeps things varied, which makes them interesting.

The trouble is, where they go from here is what will determine a lot of the validity in that last statement. Changing the story entirely is a big risk, but that means the characters need to stay the same, at least largely, so that the audience feels that they are watching the same show. And some of the decisions made in the finale can go either way. When Din takes off his helmet, is he honoring his son's request, but thus putting love or emotion above his faith? Is he following his Creed by protecting his child (albeit only emotionally)? Is he turning away from his faith altogether and returning to the broken, lonely man he was before, but now without his Creed to guide him? Is he proving Bo-Katan right? Does he consider those he's with to be family (as they all just saved his child), including the Jedi stranger (because Din is giving Grogu to him, trusting him to mentor him and act as his parental figure), thus allowing him to remove his helmet by Creed? Did he not think of these things at all, and simply acted because his son is precious to him? Really, what does that decision mean for Din's character? The answer ultimately won't be known until next season. The same goes for the plot about the Darksaber. Will this end up being another reluctant-hero story (with the traits of the protagonist being reworked to fit into it), or will this be a refreshing subversion of the trope? We can't know until next year. (And don't even get me started on the "foreshadowing of Grogu as evil" stuff. We had better not see that. I don't need that angst...)

The largest source of my anxiety comes from not being able to imagine how they can work with the show from here to maintain the primary aspects of why I love it. I don't want any romance (but without Grogu, will they feel compelled to add some in?) and I don't want Din to become a typical tropey figure (but with the plot about the Darksaber being set up as it is, will they have the guts to avoid that?). Most of all, I want Din to get his son back, but to walk back that decision after only an episode or two would again make everything that came before seem rather unnecessary.

In summary, then, after oscillating wildly between conflicting emotions, I am just left to say: I can't figure out how they're going to do it, but ultimately, time spent worrying is time wasted. I have to just trust that they've got some ideas. The people in charge have proven that they know what they're doing before (Chapter 15 was excellent, for example) and although they aren't perfect, it would be premature to say it can only go downhill from here--they may well have a larger arc planned out that this proves to be an essential part of. It may well be horrible. It could be great. But for now, let's just make the most of what we have.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Bloodstone | Part 1

Summary: You knew all about the ring your grandmother had told you about and yet when the stone fell from it one fateful day, you weren’t truly prepared for its return, nor who it came back with.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

Genre: fantasy / romance

Warnings: talk of witchcraft, and a bit too much LOTR banter >_>

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

After the initial shock wore off and your legs regained their feeling, you cradled your hand to your chest, protecting it as you swiftly moved through the afternoon crowds to the closest subway station. There, you grew more apprehensive once the underground train hurtled its way across the grid to where you needed to be the most. After departing the subway, you walked as fast as your legs would carry you to the little shop at the very end of an alleyway, opening the door and listening to the bell above it chime in your arrival.

The store owner lifted his glasses further up the bridge of his nose in curiosity, only to sigh when he saw you there. Yoongi then narrowed his gaze at your evidently anxious state and stood up. “Are you alright, Y/N?”

“It finally happened, Yoongi!”

“What did?”

“The ring!” you cried, thrusting your hand out at the man as you approached the counter, looking at him for a cure. You were beyond reason now and your best friend merely contemplated the situation before him and then scrunched up his face in disbelief.

“Are you… high?”

“Oh my god, really?!” you breathed with frustration and Yoongi grimaced.

“Well, put yourself in my shoes right now. You sound really crazy.”

“Maybe I will go crazy. She always said it would test everything about me.”

Yoongi slumped back down on the stool behind the counter, though he didn’t shift his concerned gaze from your face. “Your grandmother? Didn’t she give you that ring when you were ten?”

So he did remember. Nodding with relief, you placed your hand down on top of the glass countertop, the overhead lights now illuminating your hand brightly. The tarnished silver reflected the light, the gaping hole in the center of the ring only further emphasised. Your best friend leaned in and inspected the wounded piece of jewellery.

“Maybe the stone fell out because this ring is ancient,” he offered but you shook your head adamantly. The ring was old, but it was strong. You had once tried to remove the stone yourself. It was wedged in there for good.

Or so you had thought.

“Do you remember what my grandmother used to say?”

“A whole lot of gibberish?” Yoongi stated with a wry smile and then shrugged. “I dunno, Y/N. I used to go to her house with you so I could get some sleep. Her couch was the comfiest…”

“Because she had put a spell on it for those who had tired bones could rest well,” you murmured and Yoongi snapped his dark gaze up to your face with surprise. You were equally astonished. “Please don’t tell me you never once noticed she was a witch, Yoongi.”

“I just thought she was kooky like some old women can be,” he sheepishly responded, scratching at the back of his head. “Really? She was a witch?”

“I wish she had taught me more than I know now. It was all good to warn me, but what am I meant to do without her powers?”

“What did she used to say?” Yoongi asked, pulling out a pen and paper from beside the cashier.

“That the stone in this ring wasn’t from here, and one day it would return to its world. She told me when that happened I’d have to be ready for a test that will challenge me in every way possible.”

“I feel like I just stepped into Lord of The Rings,” Yoongi muttered and you cocked your head to the side to give him an unimpressed look. “Look, hobbits aside, the information she gave you isn’t very specific. Where was the stone from?”

“She couldn’t tell me, just not from a human race.”

Yoongi visibly swallowed before continuing. “Okay, what about why? Why with its return to the world it came from does this affect you?”

“Because I wear the ring?” you guessed and Yoongi groaned, pointing at you incredulously.

“Yes! Why did you wear something so god damn dangerous for?! You could have said, no thank you grandmother, I want to live a normal life, instead of taking on the ring of Mordor and I don’t know, tainting us all with this quest of yours that you’re now on!”

Rolling your eyes at Yoongi, you shook your head. “Just because you run a comic bookstore doesn’t mean we live in a world where…”

You trailed off with the pointed look Yoongi gave you as he folded his arms over his chest. You let out a huff in defeat.

“So you wore this ring since you were ten,” Yoongi refocused. “And now today the stone disappears. Do you feel different?”

“Well, apart from the stress from losing it, no. But today isn’t just any day, Yoongi.”

You implored him to think and his mouth fell ajar, nodding softly. “It’s been a year since your mother…”

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence the stone left this world exactly a year after my mother did,” you managed to say, blinking rapidly and looking up at Yoongi through an increasing veil of tears. “If anything, I would connect the two.”

“I hate that your words sound logical to me right now,” he admitted with a heavy sigh. “So we have no knowledge of what to do next, why this is happening, or anything really. How is this being prepared?”

You wondered the same thing.

Namjoon hadn’t stopped staring at the bloodstone since he first saw it. He had simply sat back down at his desk and cast his gaze upon it for an immeasurable while.

Whilst his body was completely still, his mind was anything but. Warnings of his father from the past flooded his mind, holding him back from the temptation of reaching out to inspect the stone closely. He had looked at it from almost every angle now, fascinated by the perfectly structured gem. He had never seen such beauty before and he had played a part in sending some of the rarest of stones to earth over the years. The red was not dark like a garnet and yet not nearly as bright as a ruby either. It was rich and full, enticing him to continue his examination. He wondered if the stone would be as warm to touch as it was to look upon. Blinking away his hazy thoughts, Namjoon clamped his hands to the base of his seat, pushing back the desire mounting within him.

He wouldn’t touch this stone.

But after another length of time and an equally strong longing to just pick it up once and then put it back down, Namjoon knew he had to put space between him and the bloodstone.

“You’re luring me in, aren’t you?” he murmured at the wicked thing, getting up and walking over to the farthest spot in his studio. However, he couldn’t train his gaze to stay away from the stone, chewing on his bottom lip in deliberation.

Was it really that bad? He had been told not to do many things in his life and found out later it was out of fear something bad could have happened. He had survived through them all. And where had the stone even come from? Could it have fallen from the Heavens? Travelled from Earth? Either place, Namjoon yearned to travel to. Especially after the loss of his father all those years ago.

He wished the man was here now to guide him away from the very stone he had warned him countless times to never get involved with.

“I won’t do it,” he concluded, nodding weakly at his decision. Turning to switch off the lights in the room so he could head into the main house he shared with his sister, Namjoon gave a final look at the red glow around the room and shut the door.

Only to re-enter mere moments later with haste. “I need to hide you in case Marian finds you.”

The fear of his sister touching what had been forbidden by his father made Namjoon dash around the studio, looking for a box and something to gently guide the stone into it. And, because he was so focused on doing just this, he wasn’t as aware of his actual surroundings, tripping over the leg of his stool as he hurried over to the desk.

It all happened too fast to prevent calamity. The tools he held dropped from his hands as he fell onto the desk, his chest being the first part of him to connect with the gem. An image of a human woman appeared in his mind right as he felt the stone absorb him entirely.

The studio was now empty of both the bloodstone and its keeper.

_________________

Part 2

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[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

A morbid thought hit me just now, how many romance sidequests do actually hold up? Like thinking on it I only love two of the six, and kinda like one. Over half of the romance sidequests have been duds! O__O

I don’t quite agree that they were all duds, but some of them were pretty bad, and others didn’t quite live up to expectations. Let me take a look-through: 

The Celestial Ball is probably my favorite overall, even to this day. It just holds up really well, and it doesn’t really have any problems that the other quests don’t have as well. (The recycled dialogue, for example.) I think the success of this one comes from the focus on the event, preparing and enjoying it with our friends. This one is the best TLSQ out of all of the others overall, but it’s not necessarily the best Dating TLSQ, if that makes any sense. Because it plays things more ambiguously. It stars Penny, but her inclusion makes sense for the character and the rest of the cast does get adequate screen-time. The only thing is that, once you’re at the Ball, you wind up spending most of the night with Penny except for one scene with your Love Interest. So it winds up feeling like you’re on a Date with Penny regardless of who you pick, but again, the lack of overt romantic themes make that easier to swallow. Andre being the Style Wizard is introduced here, and he comes up with three boss outfits. Not to mention, Rowan gets a bigger role, and their relationship with Ben comes into play. Bill x Rowan gets teasing, too! How could I not love this one?

The First Date TLSQ is much more steeped in romance. Not just in the sweet and wholesome moments, but also in the high school drama, alas. It was the quest to introduce cutting characters and it removed three of them, while only adding one in return. So it’s got that working against it. The whole premise of MC writing the note is just so damn silly. I can laugh at it, but it really doesn’t make sense, especially since half of the options aren’t even in their Potions class. Tonks and Charlie, for as much as I love them, really need to work on their social skills because guys, guys, guys. What were you thinking? Characters expressing sadness that you didn’t choose them is an interesting concept, I’m both relieved and a little disappointed that they never explored this more. The scene in the courtyard at night was nice enough to make everything else worth it, but the whole idea that MC’s love interest might not like them anymore is a bit hard to go along with. One final plus though, is that this quest has the best outfits to choose from, period. I know it’s subjective but damn, Andre really outdid himself this time.

Valentines Day I...oh boy. The culmination of so much I don’t like. This quest started the tradition of having all of the love interests needlessly confess to MC, taking up valuable time for a reveal that doesn’t matter if you don’t choose the character and makes things awkward...and also doesn’t matter if you do choose them because it removes all tension and  honestly? If the character is available, I already know they’re going to say yes. Penny acts like she’s drunk during the entire quest, and not in a charming way either. It really gets to the point of being out of character. And Gilderoy. Fucking. Lockhart. He is so annoying. Jam City got so caught up in featuring any canon character they could, that they never stopped to realize no one wanted to see this guy and watch him consume most of the screen time. He gets away with stealing MC’s story at the end, as well? Like, what? How? The Greenhouse scene is one of the most beautiful to be depicted thus far. It honestly makes the entire quest worth it...but it doesn’t save the quest, and I maintain that it comes out of nowhere. It’s a brilliant standalone scene...but it doesn’t make up for the final sin: Tulip is omitted for absolutely no given reason and as a major fan of hers, I am not happy about this. 

The Festival TLSQ: Better than First Date and Valentines I, but not as good as the Celestial Ball. The story is more fun, especially with the added feature of outside classes. I like the overall carnival feel of the event, but I kind of wish this game didn’t constantly centralize MC, Penny, and Merula. Especially in the dating quests, with the whole concept of the election. Why is MC on the ballot if they didn’t run? Why can they only vote for two of the potential love interests? I know it’s a personal thing and it really kind of started in Valentines, but Andre’s outfits appeal to me less and less as time goes on, and he’s making fewer of them. That being said, I much, much prefer the concept of a “Secret Admirer” to just having everyone confess to MC, and “I think about you gobs” still makes me laugh every time I hear it. Lockhart does show up again and his sequence absolutely frustrates me. Like, he doesn’t stay as long as he did the first time and we do get to kick his ass...but why would he even dare show his face again after the botched memory charm? Why is anyone even listening to him or letting him hog the spotlight? Why is he here? Damn it, just let me and my date play around with painting our faces! I whine, it’s true, but this one is still miles better than it’s predecessor. It adds new characters, quite a few of them, and it also stars Andre. He normally doesn’t get the spotlight, so these things really work to the quest’s favor. 

Valentines Day II: This one is far from being the best TLSQ we’ve ever had, but I actually do think that on the whole? It is the best Dating TLSQ we’ve had. It really captures the theme of falling in love, and the feeling of being a Valentines Day episode. The whole storyline about Pince and Filch? I really like that! The fairytale, storybook motif? It kinda really works! We once again have everyone outright confessing to MC, but I’m just gonna ignore it. The outfits look pretty damn good actually, but I am heartbroken that Luca can’t wear that skirt. Ah well, at least gals can wear the suit. The characters just work together well in this quest, there’s a sense of comradery in putting together the event and melting Pince’s frozen heart, right down to putting Filch in that hilarious outfit and dying Mrs. Norris pink. The whole plot being a reference to a rumor from the books is great. And yeah, MC’s date would have had absolutely no time to set up that whole set-piece in the library but what do I care? It was a really sweet moment. That’s just what works so well about this quest - it’s sweet. Between MC and their Date, between Filch and Pince...it was just a fun story to watch unfold, and at the end of it all, you get to celebrate with your love interest. 

Enchanted Kiss: This one had such a promising start. I love the whole concept of MC auditioning for a play, actually putting on a production, and being cast alongside their love interest to be the romantic leads. It’s not even a “dating” TLSQ technically since you don’t go on a date with your chosen character. But you get to choose them early on and ignore all of that confessing nonsense. You get to work toward putting on a play. You get to work toward saving it...but unfortunately, that’s when it all goes wrong. I’ve said my piece about why it was a terrible idea to make everything about MC, and that kind of infected the rest of the quest. There are no outfits for any of the dating options, nor does MC even get to choose between outfits this time. Little details like that combined with how quickly this one came out after the last one lead me to believe they were perhaps rushing to get it out and I don’t know why. They went to the trouble of coming up with that adorable animation for the enchanted kiss...and they couldn’t have put a lip kiss in it, at the very end? Come on Jam City, you know that’s what everyone really wants! It’s the same as how they tease the idea of MC and their Date saying “I love you” for the first time, but this doesn’t happen either. It just started so well and became very disappointing, but it was still fun overall. 

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 3x2 rewatch: thoughts and reaction

This is dedicated to the one and only Lucas Jade Zumann, who turns 20 today. Now, without further ado, let’s dive right into this episode.

When did Marilla become what TVtropes calls an Amazingly Embarrassing Parent? I mean, it was a matter of time, now that she’s a full-on mother to Anne. And Gilbert’s reactions are everything. Everything, I tell you.

How wonderful - Anne is going to town to learn about her past. I love how they incorporated this into her story in the series, it’s, as Anne herself would say, so much more ‘romantical’ than what the books gave her as a backstory. Also, there’s something about train rides that I love so much... maybe it’s because I don’t get to ride on a train very often, so it’s exciting for me... but let’s turn our attention away from me and back to Shirbert on the train again. 

‘Yes, I’ve taken notice of that.’ Wow, the wording. I bet he’s taken notice of something else, too. But with how Anne is treating him, Gilbert doesn’t seem in a hurry to confess any feelings just yet. Plus he seems not to know how... this is so perfect yet so frustrating at the same time.

Matthew’s awkwardness around women warms my heart. He’s just such a precious cinnamon roll and that’s that on that. 

This ride makes it, once again, so clear just how similar Anne and Miss Stacy are. True kindred spirits. Her incessant talking and unquenchable excitement over everything, combined with Matthew’s awkward struggle to find words, remind me so much of Anne’s first ride to Green Gables. 

Mary’s happiness over seeing her son, and his own cheerfulness compared to the last time we saw him are just everything. Everything - I’ve got a feeling I’ll be using this word a lot in this post. This episode is just that good, at least so far. I’ve allowed myself enough time and distance to forget what happens in it (or at least the details, I do remember some major stuff), so I can experience it almost as if for the first time. I love that about rewatches. 

Elijah is thinking about staying - what a lovely family they could be. But he’s quite... wary of Delphine, as if he’s jealous of the family his mother has built herself in his absence. I don’t really know the feeling, but I can tell it’s a horrid one. 

But look who it is - the man himself, Cole Mackenzie! I’ve been so excited to see him again, and now here he is, in flesh and blood. His friendship with Anne is just... you guessed it - everything!

I am so beyond happy to hear Cole talking excitedly about his new school and new friends, and his happy new life. This guy deserves the world - and he’s getting increasingly large portions of it now. So brilliant.

I see we’re being introduced to Winifred Rose here. She certainly seemed like a potential kindred spirit in her introducing scene - too bad her and Anne’s relationship to Gilbert wouldn’t allow this to happen. But who knows - maybe someday in the future... #renewannewithane

May I just say how much I agree with Miss Stacy on the matter of choosing to be single. No one should be forcing you to find a partner if that’s not what you want. I remember coming out to my high school ‘friends’ as aroace. Their immediate reaction was to try and find me a boy. Some people just don’t understand that not everyone needs romantic  (or otherwise) companionship to be a happy, functional human being. I admire Miss Stacy for standing her ground on the matter.

Anne’s traumatic past haunts her more than ever once she goes back to the orphanage she’s spent most of her life in. I think I’m getting traumatised just by watching, imagine what Anne has lived through. 

Poor Anne can’t even muster up the strength to speak, traumatised as she is. Thank gods for Cole, always there to help out. But I guess he must be realising now, just as I am for the second time, just as I was the first time around, how much Anne has really been through in her short life so far. She’s really lucky to have the Cuthberts now, and her friends, friends like Cole. But she’s still haunted by all the trauma. I’m crying. I don’t know if I can carry on with this rewatch. I might just stop right here. 

Seriously, thank gods for Cole. How can he always bring so much light into other people’s lives, even back when he didn’t have that much light in his own? And to be honest, Anne does the same for people. She’s done it so many times that she needed someone to do it for her for once. Thank gods for people Cole. 

‘If you’re having fun, you’re doing it wrong.’ That is a serious red flag. I know things were different back in time, but I really think that you can’t have fun with something unless you’re doing it wrong, it’s better not to do it at all. So Gilbert should pursue what makes him happy, not try to stick to formalities that, at best, bind him. But hey, he’ll have to figure that out for himself. I can’t possibly go in there and tell him. But gosh, how I wish I could...

‘The best part of knowing the rules is finding acceptable ways of breaking them.’ I feel like that’s an important message. Rules aren’t meant to be obeyed blindly. It is crucial to know when and how to a rule to make the world a little bit of a better place. I’m not sure that’s the message here in this situation, in fact I think it’s most likely not, but I’m taking what I can out of it, and I’m flying with it. Isn’t that what I always do? Twist any topic towards an aspect I can talk about - since I can’t really talk about a great many things. Well, whatever, let us try and focus on the episode at hand now. I really struggle with staying on track. But I still have half of this episode to rewatch, so let’s get back to where we were. 

Elijah is seriously out of line. Seriously. I get he’s bitter that Delphine is getting the family he didn’t quite have, but his mother is right about him needing to sober up. And Bash’s trying to understand him, but some people really need to meet the business end of things rather than the kind, understanding end. 

‘Catch a man. Is it like fishing?’ Gosh, Muriel Stacy, you crack me up. But she’s absolutely right, you know. Romance and courtship should not be like fishing or hunting. A partner is not an object to be obtained, not a prize to be won. They are a fellow human being with needs of their own. But if Muriel doesn’t want one, as I said somewhere above, she should in no way be forced to ‘catch’ a man.  

Anne needs proof that she was loved... well, look no further than the pair of lone siblings who accepted you in their home and in their hearts. Look no further than the Cuthberts. 

Gilbert is quite unusually cheerful today. I’m guessing that would be courtesy of Winifred. In another universe, maybe. Either way, there is a more serious issue at hand. Elijah again, who else. He’s stolen from John Blythe’s possessions, as if he has the rights to. 

‘Fraternising with savages’? Seriously, Marilla? After all the good things I said about you? Not that they weren’t true, mind you, but that doesn’t make the part about calling other people, fellow human beings, ‘savages’. No one deserves to be treated like that. 

Gosh, that was quite a way to say those three little words. Three heavy, meaningful little words. And sure, as far as I understand, for I am no mother nor do I want to be, worry is the biggest sign of a mother’s love. And despite all the things Marilla said about the Mi’kmaq, she is a good mother to Anne. 

Let’s sum up: Marilla is an amazingly embarrassing mother, but a mother nonetheless; Anne is so cold to Gilbert that he has to resort to awkwardly courting Winifred - why?; Anne’s quest for her own past; Cole returns - thank gods for Cole; Elijah is also back, but I can’t welcome him with open arms; Miss Stacy is a true kindred spirit who, however, does not need a man to be happy; Anne is haunted by her traumatic past; Elijah steals from a dead man; ‘fraternising with savages’ - have we forgotten Anne was also a person whom mothers didn’t want their children fraternising with?; Marilla says ‘I love you’.

[idjitlili]

Imagine asking Thorin to braid your hair like legolas’ which he does.surprise, Surprise, Surprise .

Extra information:Kili , fili, nor Thorin die in the five armies.

Word count:2071

You had been friends with legolas ever since you literally fell into Mirkwood. Legolas was suspicious of you for a while but then warmed up to you, he even convinced his Thranduil to let you stay in Mirkwood.

Thranduil brought Elrond to see you, to see if you were telling the truth. As Elrond is a magically elf or something legolas had told you. Thranduil didn’t really like you , but the same as legolas he warmed up to you it just took a lot longer. He sympathised you, Losing your whole life , and family ending up in a stranger world with elves dwarves and hobbits.

You lived with Thranduil and Legolas for over a five at this point, in which surprisingly Thranduil became very protective of you. So when you had been walking near the river , and thirteen dwarves , and hobbit had been rushing by. Along with Orcs , you were more than shocked. In which you had snuck out passed river gate to go sit somewhere alone. You knew Thranduil was going to be mad. Damn Thranduil was your dad.

Even more shocked when something hit you in side , making you fall sideways into the the river. You heard someone calling your name , sounding like legolas, you glance up while you are falling to see legolas running after you fighting orcs.

Your mouth gaps open, “legolas.” You almost whisper. You expect to hit the water with a smack, but instead you are caught by strong arms. Damn what are the chances , that you fell as a barrel went past exactly when you fell into for them.

You do be in a romance move, now who was your prince. Little did you know he wasn’t a prince..

You turn to see a long haired man, oh right he was a dwarf. He was very good looking, you look into his ocean blue eyes with your e/c ones. “T-thank you.” You stutter our to your James Franco. He looked like one of those guys , that acted tough , but were really were so sweet.

He gives you a small smile, placing you in the small barrel, that was very tight for two people. You look around to see the orcs fading away, and Legolas looking towards you, you give him a wave , before he disappears as you turn around a corner. Thorin notices your gesture, deciding to speak up now.

“How do you know the elven prince?” He questions you with a rough voice, damn sexy.

You are startled by his voice , “uh , I have been living with him and Thranduil , since they found me in the forest.” He looks at you processing your words slowly.

“What were you doing in Mirkwood?”

“You won’t believe me.” You tried to avoid the question.

“Try me.” He looks at you intensely.

“Uh well I was in my kitchen making mash potatoes when I tripped over my dog , and felling into Mirkwood forest , when a weird line thing appeared on the floor.” His face unreadable.

“Yeah that is bloody crazy, we shall take you to Gandalf, but for now you should come with us, going back alone is dangerous “ he spoke as you approach the shore.

“Who is Gandalf?” You didn’t mind going with them, you had done nothing really in Mirkwood except read , draw , eat watch Thranduil sass everyone. This quest, mission, thang seemed like fun, so you didn’t even question it.

“He is a wizard,” you nod understanding.

Throughout the travel to Erebor Thorin made sure to keep you safe, he knew Thranduil allowing you stay with him and his son was beyond impossible. Plus he saw legolas looking at you when, when he caught you, he knew he would tell Thranduil. Knowing his he knew if something was to happen to you he would probably be slaughtered.

When you reached Erebor, Thranduil and Bard trying to settle what Thorin promised. You stood next to Thorin, Thranduil saw you straight away with his elf eyes.

“Y/n?” He called out, you waved back eagerly.

“ADA! Thorin says I can stay with him for a while.” You smile, that was the first time you had called Thranduil , your father , it made his heart swell with love. But he was angered at the thought of you living with dwarves. Thorin liked you, it was better because you weren’t a elf and that it annoyed Thranduil you staying with his kin.

After the battle , which had joined in because you felt like something bad was to happen. Of course it would you idjit people are trying to kill each other it’s a war. Dumbass. Which you had saved all three of the Durins line. Thranduil had quickly rushed to you , to make you come home with him.

“Please let me stay, I am an adult , I just want to stay for a while to see what it’s like here.” You beg, frowning.

“Y/n , Mirkwood is your home, me and legolas love you.” He pleads , grasping your hands.

“I know , as do I but I must I really want to see what life is like here , I will write and visit , and it will just be for a couple of months. Also forgot to mention ,this is far fetched to believe a nice ginger women called rowena kidnapped you ,and told thranduil if he got a certain spell book she would set you free. And give you more years in life , and slow down ageing. (This allowed you in to live through lotr yes babe) it was crazy , but this women loved her son and needed to save him.

You eventually convinced Thranduil to let you stay, and hugged him goodbye. You entered , “ I guess I am staying boys!” You exclaimed throwing your arms up , receiving cheers from the other dwarves.

Kili and Fili liked you very much, they included you in many of their pranks , for example: You guys stole Bofurs hat while he was sleeping putting it into the oven. He spent three hours looking for it, he wasn’t pleased , lucky the oven wasn’t lit. Uh , kili also shaved off Bofurs eyebrows , that didn’t go done well either. He tried hiding it with his hat, it looked terrible.

Thorin wasn’t happy with this especially , when you pretended to be injured , he came running , when hearing you shout.

He clutched your hand in distress begging for you to wake up, only for kili and fili to whacked him in the face with a cream pie. You had bust out with laughter , he wiped the cream from his eyes looking doing at you smirking.

He wiped the cream onto your face, his hands running done to your sides , tickling you. You couldn’t breathe. “T-Thorin p-lease.AHH.” You tried to reason with him the best you could , but it was no use. your cheeks hurting from laughing so wide, your throat dry, sides aching.

You reached your hand up to Thorins face getting cream on it, you tried to eat it off your hand with out choking. You bust out coughing , Thorin stopped, sitting you rubbing you back, at this point Fili and kili has left minutes ago. As they wanted to talk secretly about Thorin not being an ass.

“Are you okay?” He asked you with a cream covered face.

You stopped coughing, looking him in the eye “damn are you okay? You look a bit pale. DAMN you are a elf.” His smile , disappeared , in which his hands reached for your sides again. “You done it now .” He smirked , and he attacked you again.

After this attack , he help you up , and you led him to the sink, that was five steps away because you were in the kitchen. You used a sponge to wipe all the cream off. His face wet, eyes scrunched up , so no water could get in them. He was finally able to be happy after getting revenge and reclaiming his home and finding a nice girl/

You used a cloth to dry his face , dabbing it gently, unknowingly to you , Fili and kili came back watching in awe. Secretly obviously.

Now that brings you today you sat in your bed with a small mirror between in your legs In your chambers, trying to sort your hair like legolas used to do it. The same as his . There was three gently knocks at your door, you had told them to come in.

The door opened to reveal. Thorin , with a box, it wasn’t rare for Thorin to gift you with things. You just thought he was being friendly, but little did you know. He was attempting to court you. He stepped in with a gently smile, he looked you up and down.

Your cheeks flashed with red, you wore a tunic and underwear (or shorts whatever I know they didn’t have underwear.) , as you wore them to bed. But you were struggling with your hair otherwise you would’ve been dressed a long time ago.

“ are you okay?” Thorin spoke with a small smile.

“Uh I am just struggling doing my hair today, otherwise I would’ve been up already.” You were embarrassed for the king to see you like his.

“Would you like some help?” He walked slowly closer towards you, placing the box on the end of your bed.

“ would you help me? Your hair looks majestic all the time.” Thorins cheeks spike with a small dash of pink.he nods his head.

“Thank you, may I ?” He gestures the space behind you on your bed, you nod with approvement., you pass him your brush, which he had also gifted you. Damn he’s a king he can do what he likes.

He sits , gently brushing your tangled soft h/c hair. You didn’t know about dwarven courting rituals , well you knew nothing about any other than modern day ones.

“ how do you want your hair ?”

“Uh.. like legolas’ , I get if you don’t want to, he used to do my hair for me..” you frown , it was easy when you had an elf doing your hair everyday.

“I will, you will have to remind me on how he does.” Which you do , allowing him to get to work, with his thick fingers gently pulling and gliding in your hair. It was relaxing to say the least. Damn it was scary to think he could kill you , yet he treats you like glass.

His fingers soon pull away from your hair, and he softly mutters ‘done’. You pick up your Mirrow looking at his work, your eyes lite up with joy, he was very skilled with his fingers. Could you imagine you quickly dismiss your dirty thoughts. You turn around hugging him tightly, after a minute you pull away smiling at him. “ thank you.” He stands you walking to where he put the box , he picks it up looking at you.

“ y/n , these last couple of months I have been trying to tell you something, I am just going to say it... I would really like to court you, I have brought you something, if you would accept, I would you wear it to dinner with me tonight.” He looks down at his feet breathlessly and frankly scared.

You stand up walking towards him , lifting the lid to the box to reveal a navy blue blue velvet dress. You gasp,bringing your

Fingers to feel the material, it was beautiful, damn that must of been expensive. You quickly use that hand to lift up Thorins chin, leaning over the box you press a kiss to Thorins lips. He smiles widely at you. “ I accept,is that why you have be so many gifts?” He nods his head still grinning.

“I would accept even without all the gifts , I knew when my you caught me, I do be living in a romance novel.” He chuckled at you, placing the box down again , wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you close. Pressing a kiss to your lips , this time very passionately.

That night you write a letter to Thranduil and legolas , about your news. You knew Thranduil gonna be shaking , and not his ass.

A/n I finally managed to do my hair like legolas by myself for the first time. I am so happy.(yeah that pic is my hair)

[mst3kproject]

Bog

Imagine Creature from the Black Lagoon but made by the creative (for lack of a better word) team behind The Giant Spider Invasion.  That’s Bog.

Bog Lake is the type of little nowhere town that looks as if it ought to have a local cryptid, like the Flatwoods Monster or Mothman… and sure enough, tourists who come to fish in the lake are getting drained of blood by some creature with a chitinous proboscis!  The police are baffled, the locals are buying guns, and the coroner straightfacedly suggests it might be Count Dracula.  The only person who seems to really know what’s going on is The Old Hag of the Woods, and she claims that the swamp monster is some kind of ancient god.  Once awakened, it must feed on blood before it can return to the slime at the bottom of the lake and sleep for centuries more.  At this point, the viewer is probably expecting something like the Giant Leeches crossed with Cthulhu, but the truth manages to be even cheaper than a Corman film and, unfortunately, infinitely rape-ier.

Why does this movie remind me so much of the works of Bill Rebane?  The main reason is probably the 70s soft focus and the midwestern accents, but there are quite a few points that spark specific memories of The Giant Spider Invasion.  The movie’s heroes are two people in at least their forties, in which the woman is a more qualified scientist than the man.  The married couples we see are totally dysfunctional and dissolving in booze. A shotgun-wielding mob forms and chases the monster towards the instruments of its demise.  There’s even a middle school chemistry classroom that stands in for a laboratory (I particularly enjoyed the fact that this, which presumably represents a room in the town morgue, has a map of the moon on one wall) and science that starts out grounded in reality but then dives headfirst into bullshit while hollering “cowabunga!”

On the other pedipalp, there are also ways in which Bog is notably better than The Giant Spider Invasion, most of which have to do with the characters.  Admittedly, these do not get off to a good start.  The first people we can really be said to meet are two assholes who have come for the camping and fishing, and their wives who have come to complain.  The couples clearly hate each other and we can’t imagine why they ever got together in the first place, and each individual is kind of an idiot.  I won’t complain too much, though, because the crabby wives get eaten almost right away and the asshole husbands fulfill their plot function by bringing it to the attention of the authorities and then follow their spouses out of the movie.  Good riddance.

The real characters are the Sheriff, Ginny the Coroner, and Brad the Doctor.  None of them are exactly likable but they come across as the sort of very ordinary people you’d probably meet in your day-to-day life and while they’re not your close friends, you don’t dislike them.  Ginny is of an appropriate age for her position of authority, and her colleagues treat her with the respect she is due.  Her romance with Brad is clearly something that’s been going on for a while now and doesn’t suddenly develop over the course of a weekend, and the two of them are close in age.  All three of these characters behave in a professional manner and seem to have good working relationships, which is a breath of fresh air.  Far too many movies try to insert unnecessary drama by having characters who hate each other for no reason.

The best of the three is actually the Sheriff, who is one of a very few small-town movie sheriffs who actually seems to take his job seriously.  Aldo Ray used to be a real actor, and you can tell – he plays the Sheriff a with nice everyman quality and a great deal of integrity.  This unfortunately makes it all the more puzzling when the character suddenly runs off to fight the monster with fisticuffs and gets killed for it. Brad says it was in the Sheriff’s nature to do this but it doesn’t seem to match the sensible and down-to-earth characters we’ve seen so far.

I got the impression, actually, that the Sheriff was what was keeping the movie sane because after he dies it starts getting weird.  Ginny does some scientific tests that consist mostly of pouring coloured liquids into Erlenmeyer flasks, and determines that the monster is made of cancer and molybdenum. If either of these facts have any effect on the plot I missed it, although I did imagine Crow deciding the monster was his long-lost relative.  Then we get into how it reproduces and things go right off the deep end.

You see, there’s only one of these monsters, and it’s a boy.  Fauxilla got around this through hermaphroditism, but the monster from Bog prefers the Humanoids from the Deep route.  If you’re lucky enough not to have seen Humanoids from the Deep, its fish monsters have decided they need human genes to speed up their evolution.  The monster in Bog does kind of the opposite, devolving humans to make them compatible with itself.  It does this by injecting a dose of its own blood into the victim and the result is a huge clutch of transparent spawn that Ginny describes as ‘not really a seed, not really an egg’, whatever that means.

This, we later learn, is how the Swamp Hag knows so much about the creature – she’s apparently been its mate for hundreds of years! She dies attempting to warn the monster that it’s walking into a trap, which leads Brad and an ichthyologist to conclude that one effect of this infusion of monster hormones is that ‘the victim becomes willing’.  That is icky and I hope it doesn’t reflect the writers’ feelings about real-life situations of sexual assault.  The idea is intended to add urgency to the need to rescue Ginny from the creature.

Creature from the Black Lagoon never did give a reason why the titular monster was interested in kidnapping human women.  It was obvious enough that the Creature was supposed to be a sexual threat, but its quest was clearly doomed and it was not apparent why the women were attractive to it.  Humanoids from the Deep appears to have arisen from the brain of somebody who spent way too much time thinking about these questions and trying to come up with answers to them.  Bog decided its monster simply didn’t have any choice – there aren’t any other bipedal things around for it to mate with.  What neither of these movies realize is that the questions didn’t need answers to begin with.

There are things movies need to be explicit about, and slimy swamp creatures raping women is not one of those.  A lot of times, horror works better when the details are left to the viewer’s imagination, and the fact that Creature from the Black Lagoon doesn’t understand that it cannot get what it wants from its captives actually makes it worse. The writers of Saturn 3 did something similar with Hector the robot’s crush on Alex and while Saturn 3 was not a good movie overall, that aspect worked fine.  Going into the details just gives the audience an opportunity to think about how stupid it is.

It is worth noting that neither Creature from the Black Lagoon nor Saturn 3 felt a need to use the words the victim becomes willing, either.

The monster’s silhouette resembles a man in a fish costume he probably bought on Amazon, and it sounds like it doesn’t want to get up in the morning. I suspect that hidden in the poor lighting is something that would be a shitty movie monster classic on the order of The Giant Claw or the spidermobile from The Giant Spider Invasion, if only we could see it.  There are very few things I enjoy more than movies that are loud and proud of their abysmally cheap monsters, but sadly Bog doesn’t want to show off.

This is doubly a shame because a lot of this movie just drags. The bit with the scuba divers takes way too long for the payoff it gets.  Brad and Ginny’s makeout scene lasts way after we’ve gotten the point, whether or not it bothers you that the people doing the kissing are middle-aged. And anything with the two fishermen and their wives is not only slow, but annoying.  The movie is at its Giant-Spider-Invasion-est here, when everybody on screen is a repulsive caricature of a human being and you can’t wait for them to die.

There may be a slight 70’s Nature’s Revenge angle to this film, in that the monster is apparently awakened by some idiot fishing with dynamite, but Black Lagoon is evidently the primary inspiration.  Unfortunately, all the things that made that movie enjoyable are missing here.  The monster doesn’t look particularly realistic or well-adapted to its environment. Attempts at suspense are just boring and the movie is unnecessarily explicit about things that should remain implied. Bog is not a complete write-off as bad monster movies go, but it’s not all that great either.

[blue-likethebird]

Shimizu Kiyoko: A Meta

Recently, Haikyuu finished its last match and ended an 8-year run in Shonen Jump. I love Haikyuu. It has so many unique characters with complex motivations, a plot that had me invested for 4 years straight, good pacing and a fanbase full of talented creators. It had a big impact on my style as an author and even motivated me to try out for my school’s volleyball team back in middle school (but I ended up getting hit in the head with a serve and cut after the first tryouts ended rip.) But like every story, Haikyuu had a few flaws too.

Shimizu Kiyoko is without a doubt one of my favourite characters after Michimiya and Suga. But when I reread the series following the manga’s end, I had the uncomfortable realization that as much as I love Kiyoko, the way her character was handled fell into a few -kinda misogynistic- pitfalls. Well, this is me taking a closer look at that. Below the cut is the full meta, which contains spoilers for the final arc of Haikyuu!! You’re free to add your thoughts, argue that I’m wrong, or call me a bitch and block me at your own discretion!

In fairness, Haikyuu is a series about a boys’ volleyball team, and that premise doesn’t leave much room for girls outside of the supporting cast. At the very least, Furudate did a good job making the female characters in his series likeable individuals with distinct personalities who have lives of their own outside of the guys. Even characters like Michimiya, Kanoka and Mika -who are comparatively minor characters serving romantic roles in the story- have identities not revolving around their relationships with boys. I’m glad that the girls were allowed to express ugly emotions, have supportive relationships with one another, and weren’t solely defined by what guys they were in love with. On that level, Haikyuu is leaps and bounds better than a lot of other shonen mangas ie Boruto’s Dad.

Unfortunately, Kiyoko’s arc fell slightly short of the mark. In the grand scheme of things, she really didn’t have much to do and her identity as a character is comparatively murkier than others once you strip away her relationships with the men in Haikyuu. Given her potential, popularity, and the higher standards Haikyuu set for its ladies, it’s a bit disappointing.

“But blue!” Someone in the back row pipes up. “You said yourself that Kiyoko isn’t a main character! Authors don’t develop the supporting cast nearly as much as the protagonists!”

Well yeah. If authors expanded on every character to the extent they expand on the lead, then it would be impossible to get to the actual plot. But hey, Oikawa appears less frequently than Kiyoko does and his motivations and interests are given time to develop. Heck, Yachi only joined the cast in chapter 73 and the series explores her interest in art and relationship with her mother really well during her introduction. We don’t know Kiyoko’s family situation, or why she quit track, or what drives her to put so much of her own time into the volleyball club. And the scenes where she has an impact on the story, or the game going on, or Hinata’s quest to become a great volleyball player, or another character she interacts with are few and far between when stacked up against other members of Karasuno’s volleyball club. The only exception would be Kinoshita and Narita, who have the bad luck of being Haikyuu’s version of “those two guys” so that’s not exactly the best demonstration of what Kiyoko has to offer.

Then there’s my beef with the pedestal she’s dropped on: Both in canon and out, Kiyoko is presented as a perfect goddess who can do no wrong. This setup has so much room to expand on and deconstruct, which dozens of stories have done incredibly well. Even Haikyuu itself has done a similar thing through Kageyama’s relationship with the other Kitadaii alumni and the “king of the court” storyline. Yet Kiyoko never gets a chance to explain her feelings on being held to such a high standard, nor is it ever brought up as something that could be uncomfortable for her. It’s briefly implied that she’s somewhat out of her element when she’s the centre of attention in the “do your best” scene, but that’s not really touched on further. Given that haikyuu has acknowleged being held to unreachable standards is damaging, it would have made sense to acknowledge Kiyoko’s perspective too. Is she insecure about being considered flawless? Is it something that brings her confidence or boosts her ego? Idk, because it’s never explained clearly. It’s like a porcelain doll: Kiyoko is perfect, but by keeping her up on a high shelf to maintain that perfection, we miss the chance to get a closer look that could help further our appreciation of her.

It’s not that being one of the less dynamic characters is inherently a misogynistic pratfall, since there are plenty of male characters out there who could give a cardboard box a run for its money in terms of complexity. However, given that Kiyoko’s character is already floundering among all the unaddressed idealizations around her, to have so little opportunity to address that and how damaging it can be, well it’s not great to say the least. She’s also one of the only characters in the whole series to suffer from this particular burden. It’s kinda difficult to handwave that as just a weird coinky dink that Kiyoko’s not given more development while the arrival of Lev at Nekoma warranted a dissection of how this affects their dynamic. 

This all builds up to a defining moment. The one that made me realize how Shimizu Kiyoko had never quite escaped the trap so many other shonen manga ladies since Sakura and Orehime had fallen victim to.

The reveal that she and Tanaka got married between the end of nationals and the time skip. That was when I realized that for all I loved her and the series she was a part of, the writing surrounding her was misogynistic. 

I have a... variety of emotions about this particular relationship’s road to becoming canon, and they’re not especially positive emotions either. I could prattle on for ages about the execution or buildup, and a whole other post could be written about why I always interpreted her as a lesbian, but that’s best saved for another time. How was Kiyoko falling in love with Tanaka a weak point?

To put it bluntly, it’s because she didn’t.

We’re shown over and over again that Tanaka has feelings for Kiyoko. That was established in basically the first scene they appeared together in. What irks me is that she never gets the same: that the ‘hints’ that Kiyoko returns those feelings barely qualify as hints at all. Yet, with one scene where Tanaka carries her bag, we’re supposed to believe that the few scraps of interest she’s shown throughout the 300+ chapters of the manga they’ve both appeared in is a strong enough end point to lead to them getting hitched. Come to think of it, is there ever even a scene outside of the bag carrying where they spoke one-on-one about anything meaningful? Did Tanaka ever get to see her as more than her pedestal that we saw? The scene they ended off on is where most romance arcs start for heaven’s sake, and it ultimately disservices both characters. 

Once again, poor Kiyoko got screwed over by the series denying her a chance to express her feelings, and the marriage bomb came off as less of a satisfying conclusion to either of their arcs and more like a one-sided “wear the girl down” pullout where the girl in question is treated more like a prize than part of a healthy relationship. That kind of “romance” is more at home in a cliche action bland-com than Haikyuu, where the relationships are written with more complexity. This would have so easily been avoided with even one throwaway line. But since Kiyoko never got to express her own feelings, a crucial building block to a satisfying romantic arc was left out and the whole relationship toppled over like a jenga tower.

To wrap this up, lemme say that Haikyuu is one of my favourite series and one of the strongest shonen or sports manga I’ve read. I love both Kiyoko and Tanaka both a fuck ton, and I’m incredibly grateful that Furudate gave us such a powerful series these past eight years. None of this is me trying to bash the author, story, or any of the characters and I’m definitely not trying to argue that they’re in any way problematic. This is merely one interpretation of the series and an examination of a relatively minor part of the genuinely enjoyable whole. My goal in writing this longass meta wasn’t to condemn. But, in a manga whose biggest strength is having such well-rounded characters, it’s still somewhat of a shame that so much of Kiyoko’s potential stayed just that: potential. Haikyuu is a series that’s well-known for giving complex personal stories to all its cast from major player to one-chapter rivals. Why is it that Shimizu Kiyoko -who’s been a regular presence in the story since the very first chapter- couldn’t get the same?

[heli0s-writes]

IV. The First Taste*

Summary: NSFW Chapter. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader A/N: Modern AU, Teacher reader, Dad/Baker Steve… lots of pining, slow burn, romance. Enjoy!

Slow Like Honey Masterpost

Since you kissed Steve Rogers in your classroom on that Thursday afternoon, you’ve kissed him again and again after each meeting. It’s been precisely two more lunch dates, one more dinner date, and one long walk in the park on his day off before he was suddenly called in for an emergency pastry situation. That’s five kisses. Five dates. Five moments you lie in bed and think about while trying desperately not to scream.

You scold yourself every time because a part of you is embarrassed that you’re so—thirsty! But good God, the man is a tall glass of water you want to drown in. It’s been two stupid years since you’ve kissed anyone, and when you’re in bed at night, you hope that it’s not your lack of practice that’s been keeping him from moving forward.

You can’t be that bad, right? … Right?

But it’s always you who initiates, and Steve always keeps it short and sweet. Once, you felt the slightest flick of his tongue against your bottom lip, but then as quickly as he’d done it, he pulled away.

Grumbling, you press your pillow over your face and punch it a couple of times before settling back down into bed. You peer at the back of your hand in the darkness of your room and contemplate on trying it just like you used to when you were a kid. God, this feels stupid.

Tomorrow, you’ll just ask. Because you’re both adults and because he was your… boyfriend. You smother yourself with the pillow again, because that was an even more mortifying thought than making out with your own hand.

 In the morning you go for a jog and make yourself a quick protein and fruit shake breakfast afterward. Then you head to the pool for about an hour before coming back home. Everything is quiet, and the world is peaceful, now that you don’t have the lives of twenty-five children hovering over your every waking moment. You shower and lie down on the couch before turning on a baking show. Looking around, you survey your apartment. It is so damn barren and cream-colored. You’re not strong nor brave enough to go get a bunch of furniture by yourself and start arranging.

Sighing, you settle on an easier task: maybe today you’ll go buy some houseplants.

Steve texts you a picture of a cheesecake around noon as you’re spraying water into the soil of two new succulents and a hanging fern. You show him your fern, placing your hand next to it for size reference. The messages between you are short and brief, since you see each other pretty often.

Summer break unravels you a little bit, but you’ll be damned if you let your new (very adult) boyfriend know. You play video games and browse the internet with a bottle of wine on the weekends, and your summer is just a giant weekend. It’s almost troubling, really, because every summer you have to either find a new hobby to keep yourself entertained.

Last year you took up rock-climbing and baked a lot… but with Steve around, that just seemed like a good way to get laughed at. And of course, the summer before that one was spent moving out of your ex’s apartment and trying to keep your head above water. You shudder at the thought. If it wasn’t for the very fortuitous call back from your current workplace, you would have probably had to move back home or continued spiraling into credit-card debt.

You text Steve, asking him to suggest a new hobby to you.

Right away, he responds and recommends that you join his watercolor session at the bakery:

I’m teaching a two-hour workshop Sunday after we close. The sign up sheet is already full but… it helps knowing the teacher personally doesn’t it? I do a ceramics one in the winter, too!

You blink.

Steve… I can only draw if I invoke the spirit of Other Steve from Blue’s Clues.

Oh perfect, now he’s calling.

“Yes?” You answer. His laughter is ringing on the other line.

“Hey! Blue’s Clues is an excellent show! And, I gotta admit, that guy can really draw.”

You huff and sputter at him, “Stop messin’ with me. Last year I baked a lot but now that you’re here… I really need a new hobby- a doable hobby!”

He chuckles again before his voice grows quieter. Bossa nova plays in the background, and the coffee grinder is buzzing intensely. “Oh honey,” He whispers, and you’re nearly gasping at the way his voice sounds—low, deliberate—like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Come to the workshop, won’t ya? It’s just a beginner’s thing. I think you’ll really like it. For me?”

The quick-draw refusal you were so sure you could unholster on time is nowhere to be found, not with him asking you so sweetly like that. You grouse jokingly and accept, warning him that if he laughs at your unskilled hand, you’ll never take his advice again.

“Me? Laugh at you? Never, sweetheart. I can’t believe you would think that of me.”

“Oh hush, Steven.”

A puff of air escapes him and everything grows quiet. Steve mutters something you can’t quite make out, and then, even louder than before, the coffee grinder screeches. “Everything okay?” You ask, worried.

“Yeah. Um, yeah. Everything’s good.”

You’re suddenly reminded of the way he pulls away after a good night kiss and reach to unholster that gun.

“Hey—uh wha—why do you--- um.” What the hell is the right way to ask this question? Why have our tongues not fought for dominance? Why haven’t both my hands gotten lost in the front of your button-up shirt? Why have you not pressed your hard, broad chest against me?

Maybe you’ve been reading too much Cosmo or Buzzfeed Relationships in your quest to find the right answers.

“Huh?” Steve asks. “What’s that?”

You holster the gun.

“Nothing! Ha! I’ll see you Sunday!”

“Okay, hon… See you then. Don’t be nervous! It’ll be great!”

 You squeeze your eyes shut as you place your phone on the coffee table. Crisis averted. Then, you search for basic video tutorials on watercolors as well as tips for beginning artists on your phone before casting it to the T.V. It’s entirely baffling and when you pick up a pencil and try to draw your new succulent on a nearby notepad, the voice coming through the speaker sternly states that you should “make marks deliberately-- not fiddling about with sketchy, hairy lines like a fuzzy caterpillar!”

What you’ve been working on looks exactly like a fuzzy caterpillar, and your cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

So you try again, erasing furiously before attempting those “deliberate” lines. After nearly fifteen minutes, you sit back and peer at your creations.

“Jesus.”

Your smooth, plump, glossy plant looks like one of those inflatable tubes outside of an auto dealership in the middle of deflating.

You feel deflated, too.

Over your dinner table is a corkboard of photos and postcards, and you walk over to snag Steve’s thank you card from its place in the corner. You study his technique and peer at the delicate forest green line of each stem- just a single, continuous stroke. The petals seem to be merely blobs of color if you’re looking closely, and where the flowers touch, sometimes the pigments bleed over each other.

No, it’s not a perfect thing. But it is gorgeous, still.

So, you try… again. This time, you tear off the deflated succulent drawing and place it on your coffee table in the left corner. Just for good luck, you chant “Steve, Steve, Steve!” as if he’s Beetlejuice, and get to work. Half your brain is thinking of the striped green shirt and oversized crayon, and the other half is thinking of a striped blue shirt and oversized pecs. Either way, both of them could art.

You’ve drawn all year for your students- especially your ESL kids who struggled with codeswitching. Sometimes, when they were unable to find the right word, or you were, you’d draw a picture instead. According to twenty-five first graders, you were an amazing artist, so… what the hell!

Ten minutes later, you tear off the top of the notepad and set it down next to its brother.

The two are stark differences, and your second one is little bit better. You’re almost proud of it—smooth flowing lines, rounded edges, and even a flat plane of the table to ground the pot.

Sitting back, you click around some more, making sure to choose videos that are most helpful to your current ability. Those speed-up painting videos were hella tempting, but you do not want to get lost in the rabbit hole.

Sunday is two days away. At the very least, you were going to be able to draw a damn good succulent.

---

You come in early to help him close before the workshop begins. Cap&Co. closes on Sundays right at six, and the workshop would start half an hour later.

The baristas say hello to you and smile, and you do the same back before you grab a rag and spray a counter down. The leftover pastries and sandwiches are placed on a tray and put in the middle of the room, where the tables and chairs have been pushed together by Steve.

“Snacks!” He smiles, “For the students.”

“Does that make me your student too?” You tease, finding the situation a bit ironic.

He winks at you before hanging up his apron. Between the four of you and the work that’s left, it’s quickly finished in the next ten minutes and the employees leave, wishing you a good night as they go.

Steve lets you choose the music for the night as he brightens the lights, and you randomly scroll through the shop’s selection before picking an old album you used to like as a younger girl—Fiona Apple’s 1996 Tidal. Right away, the singer’s brassy voice catches his attention.

“Who is this?” He asks excitedly, “I think I heard her on the radio the other day!”

You tell him, and he nods along to the music as he sets out sheets of watercolor paper clipped neatly on boards. Then he lays out five travel-sized round palettes already filled with an array of colors. By the time all the paintbrushes are next to each clipboard, people are starting to arrive and Steve is back and forth saying hello and giving hugs. You finish the end of the preparation and fill up heavy mason jars with water and set them at each spot. Then, you take your seat with a cake pop and eagerly and watch him lead the demonstration.

“Thanks for coming, everyone!” He smiles widely at the end of the table. “Good to see some of you again!”

 This must be what your students feel like, you think—you hope, because you are absolutely enthralled with everything that pours from his mouth. Even the way he stumbles over his words fascinates you, and the fact that he is so animated and engaged makes you love it even more.

Steve tells the group that he’ll demonstrate for about twenty-five minutes before everyone can start either trying out various techniques, or if they’ve done it before, can begin on painting whatever they please and he’ll come around to offer help. He suggests the plants for a nice still life, or other knick-knacks around the shop. Some returning students have even brought their own objects and you want to pinch yourself because you could have brought your succulent!

Then, he begins, showing you the right way to load the paintbrush with paint and water, and how water tension is so important to the medium. He shows you the difference between a wet brush and a dry brush. He shows you how to layer the colors. Your brain can hardly keep up with your eyes as they enthusiastically soak up the colors over his paper and the way his wrist moves easily back and forth from the mason jar where he cleans the bristles, to the palette saturated with pigment, to the paper where strokes are being placed.

“Here is a quick and easy way to make a flower.”

Steve loads a fat brush with water and pulls two shades of orange onto the white of the palette. In one swift motion, he streaks a daub of it onto the paper, letting the water gather more heavily on one side.

“We’ll let that dry for just a second— but we can do this for now.” He presses the tip of the brush into a tiny bit of red and makes another mark similar to the first one. The edges of the paint that touches leaks into each other, creating a tiny blossom of red into the first petal.

“This is what will happen when your paint is still wet—but that’s okay!” He makes two more petals—slightly more yellow than the last and touches his finger to the one with the accidental red bloom.

“It’s pretty dry now.” He blows softly on it for good measure and mixes a rosy coral shade into his brush.

The last petal is swept over the first, and the overlapping area where they touch turns into a vibrant shade of ripe orange. Then, quickly, he sticks the wood handle of the brush sideways between his teeth and picks up a smaller brush, wetting it, loading it with a deep purple that’s almost black, and makes a spray of dots in the middle.

“There ya go!” He takes the brush out of his mouth.

A part of you thinks that you are fucked because you may have just fallen in some deep shit here, as you stare at him, grinning widely—so proud of himself and somehow proud of you, too, for listening.

He’s made it seem impossibly easy. An absurdly beautiful blossom from his imagination stares at you from the watercolor pad in his hand as you shakily pick up the brush next to your hand.

“Well… shit, Steve.” You whisper before breaking out into a silly laugh and putting your forehead into your palm at the thought of the herculean task at hand. The woman to your right laughs along with you as she makes scribbly marks and drips globules of blue water onto her paper. Steve beams at you lovingly as you try to imitate the way he made the first petal, steering the water where you want it to go.

It doesn’t.

But you’re determined, damn it. Because one, you really want to impress him, and two, you really need a summer hobby.

The next hour flies by as you paint diligently, occasionally humming along to Fiona Apple’s resonant vocals in the background, chatting with the other painters. They’re all regulars at Cap&Co., and they adore the Rogers family.

Steve circles the room and answers questions, giving pointers, and sometimes putting his hand over yours to lead your paintbrush. He even kisses you on the top of your head when you finish your first flower—a lavender five-petaled ...cephalopod.

The affectionate gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by the others as they smile and quietly ask him questions when they think you’re not listening. Your ears go hot the rest of the night—just as hot as the top of your head because Steve!

Before you know it, it’s time to pack up. The album has already repeated, and it’s back to an early track. No one seems to mind, however, as they take their papers and wave goodbye. You linger in the area, pouring out dirty water and putting the jars back under the sink. Steve puts away the paints, fixes the rest of the tables, and you return to the café area to join him. He’s patting his thighs with his wet hands when you come in, nodding along to the music.

You gaze at the damp spots on his legs, the fabric of his trousers slightly clinging onto his muscles. Quickly, before he sees you, you look away.

“This exact song was on in the car.” He mutters amusedly, “I really like this… she’s got a great voice.”

Steve walks closer to you, stopping a few steps away and leans against the edge of a wooden booth. He crosses his arms and press his lips together, eyelashes fluttering as he smiles.

“What now?” He asks. His voice echoes the same low and deliberate tone you’ve heard before, and you think that the question isn’t really a question at all. But you’re not really sure what to make of it—tonight may have been the most forward he’s ever been.

The lights are dimmed. The piano melody crescendos before the song ends. There’s a pause of silence before the next song begins, and you feel your heart leap as the first few words start.

I lie in an early bed, thinking late thoughts.

“Um…” Your voice cracks.

I do not struggle in your web because it was my aim to get caught. But daddy long-legs, I feel that I’m finally growing weary of waiting to be consumed by you.

Steve cocks his head to the side, also listening—to the music, perhaps to your now uncomfortably loud heartbeat. You run your hand through your hair. The music chimes into a more upbeat tone as the chorus starts.

Give me the first taste. Let it begin. Heaven cannot wait forever.

“Why don’t you ever kiss me first?”

His eyebrows raise briefly before he blinks a couple of times. You tilt your chin to your chest and lace your fingers together, foot tapping anxiously as you stand in wait. “I mean, I think I’m just a little confused. We’ve seen each other for like, two weeks now. I feel like it’s always me who initiates—but tonight you did a little bit more of that. And… I guess we’ve only kissed—Am I bad kisser? Steve? Am I?”

You’re full of rambling, nervous energy but you try your best to play it off. It was such an awkward thing to say out loud, and there was no way you could come out and spit: Why have we not had sex yet?

Steve surges forward and takes your hand in his, “No!” His head his shaking wildly, “You’re a great kisser! The best!”

His blabbering catches you off-guard and the snort of laughter that comes from you is anything but attractive. “Jesus, Steven, that’s too much.”

Steve slaps his palm to his forehead. “Ah… I’m sorry. I think I’m just nervous.”

“About what?” You ask, leaning forward and looking up at him, “Steve, I just… snorted. You can’t be nervous about this. I should be the one who’s nervous! Look at you!”

He takes a step back and puts one hand on his hip, the other reaching forward to signal to you. “Look at me? Look at you!” He gawks.

The two of you stand there, pointing at each other, making scoffing noises of disbelief for a good two minutes before you put up your hand. “Okay. Pause, mister. You look like someone Photoshopped a rugged Ken Doll and then 3-D printed it. Westworld-style. You bake, you paint, you’re a ceramic---ist? Ceramicist? What! Steve!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, “Come on! Your fuckin’ arms!”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m thirty-five and divorced. I sleep four hours a night. I’m a walking disaster.” Then he narrows his eyes at you.

“You’re gorgeous! You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re so sweet…! You’re honest?” He ticks off each adjective using his fingers, “You’re patient? God, Sarah throws half a tantrum and my world collapses. You’re dedicated. You’re---“

“Okay. Stop.” You mutter, cheeks burning hot, “I sleep on the couch next to a bottle of wine and have three pieces of furniture. We’re both disasters.”

Steve laughs and steps forward again, putting his hand over yours. “I just… didn’t want to mess anything up.” He whispers, “I like you so much… and… if we’re… talking about that. I haven’t… been with anyone in … two years. Other than you, I’ve only kissed one person my entire life… So, the question is—am I a bad kisser?”

You giggle as he gives you an apologetic smirk, shaking his head at the way you two have been aggressively complimenting each other. Standing on your tiptoes, you move to nuzzle your nose against his. “You’re a great kisser, Steve. The best.”

Darkness flutters over his eyes briefly before Steve expertly dodges your nose and catches your mouth with his instead. With a half-whimper, half-moan, Steve Rogers grabs the back of your neck in one large, warm hand and your lower back with the other and presses your body flush against his.

Oh.

He’s so tall he has to bend over and you’re so small against him that he’s nearly picking you up. A brief parting of your lips give you a moment to catch your breath, but he’s back again, tongue sliding against yours sweetly, as if asking a silent question.

Is this okay?

With a sigh of pleasure, you ask him to continue in the same, secret language. Your chest his burning hot, tummy quivering with nerves and delight as his hands roam your body. Firm. Strong. Almost desperate. Your own hands rest against his chest before one reaches up and cups his face, trailing your fingertips through his beard.

“D-does it bother you?” He mutters against your mouth before he slides down past your jaw and lands his lips on your neck, “My beard?”

“Mmm—no—” you’re breathless as he kneads his fingers into your waist, moving up to position them just below your breasts, “I like it—mmm-- lots.” You sigh, as his scruff tickles your shoulder, sending tingles all over your body. “I’d like to feel it… elsewhere, too.”

He freezes and pulls away. His hands place you back down on your feet-- back to Earth-- as he swallows hard, looking at you with open, red lips. Steve rolls the bottom one between his teeth and clenches his jaw, eyes half-lidded and lustful. You’re probably a wreck, too, you think as you catch yourself against a table.

“Can we---”

You cut him off. Your purse is already in your hands, keys swinging around your finger.

“God. Yes. I’ll follow you.”

 Steve tugs you from the driver’s seat of your car, hand entwined with yours as he leads you up the walkway and over the step. Once the front door shuts behind him and he’s made sure it’s locked, you’re pressed up against the wall, purse, shoes, keys, clattering onto the hardwood.

“Oh, honey,” he mumbles as he presses his face into your collar, scooping you up into his arms. “Oh, Jesus, sweetheart.”

You’re glad he knows how to navigate his house with his eyes closed because the whole way there, you can’t stop kissing him. Your hands tug his hair and your teeth pinch his bottom lip. Steve responds by growling softly, biting you back, squeezing your thighs before slowly easing you onto his bed.

It’s dark in his room, but you feel the bed dip as he climbs on too. Both your eyes are trying to adjust—trying to find each other. Your hands fumble around until you catch him, his knee. His hands find your stomach. Slowly, he reaches for the hem of your shirt and peels it up over your head. Then he does the same to his own shirt and both of you shimmy out of your pants.

He is hard and hot when your bare skin touches his. Steve lies down on his side to face you, panting slightly as you glide your hand up and down his arm. Oh fuck, it’s been two years and the first man you touch is more like a mythical creature than any man. It should be illegal for someone to feel this good.

Trembling, you touch the hard planes of his torso, the ridges in his abdomen, the swell of his chest taking hard breaths. You shut your eyes and imagine the way he looks right now—breathless and wild. His knee parts your legs easily and one hand descends to feel your center, saturating your underwear.

“Jesus, baby,” Steve sighs into your neck. “You’re makin’ me crazy. This--” He begins to slide his digits up and down, getting the slippery wetness all over his fingers, “Already...”

A shudder rolls through your body upon hearing his words and you arch into his touch, moaning when he rubs your clit in perfect pulsing circles. He moves forward, kissing the tops of your breasts through your bra, nipping at the soft flesh spilling from the cups.

“Steve, you’ll make me come.” You admit, a little shyly even as your hips rock consciously into his hand. You paw at his arms, squeezing the ridges of thick muscles.

The mischievous chuckle that pours from his throat vibrates against your chest. Steve grabs onto your thigh and eases your leg over his hips inching closer and straightening himself until you’re aligned perfectly. He tilts back and guides you against him until your center slides against his bulge.

Just as you find the elastic of his waistband, he jerks away and places himself in-between your legs as he moves you onto your back. You scoot until your head hits the wall, propping yourself up on your elbows, giving him more room at the foot of the bed.

“You wanted to feel this?” Steve caresses your thighs with his cheek, the hairs on his beard tickling your sensitive skin. Your toes curl up reflexively as he moves back and forth, trailing his lips and face all over.

You squeal when the tip of his nose touches your mound, mouth hovering over your soaked panties. His mouth latches on, almost in a bite before he takes them off. Both his hands slide beneath your bottom, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass before he pulls your hips forward. You land on his face, eyes rolling back in ecstasy.  

“Steve,” You gasp, “This is unfair.” Your body jerks with every teasing kiss he presses to your folds. His breath comes out in a smug puff of air that purposefully continues to drive you unbelievably closer to what feels like breaking entirely.

“Baby…” he mutters—right into your cunt, Jesus! You groan at the way his face is nestled there. “Baby---mm— It’s been two years for me.” He whispers, “If I don’t get you off now, in a really good way—it’s not gonna be good at all.”

“Steve—you know—ah! It’s been the same amount of time for me too, right?!”

He ignores you, crawling his hands around onto your hips to keep you from squirming. When you settle finally, he moves one hand to your center, sliding a finger up and down your slippery folds. His mouth latches onto your clit as his finger continues their trail. You fist his hair with both hands at the same time he slips a digit inside.

But he doesn’t move. Other than his tongue’s soft licks on your swollen clit, Steve doesn’t move at all. He happily lets his finger rest inside of you, gathering your juices all over his hand.

You whimper, trying to shimmy against them, anything to create more contact. Its intrusion builds a terrible itch inside of your body, and goddamn it, you want to scratch.

It feels like an eternity passes before he finally lets you have another—adding one more thick finger inside, stretching you as he moves them both around, curling them, pumping them in and out. He sucks enthusiastically on your sensitive bud, fucks you with two fingers almost wildly, and your body responds with fervor. You gasp and moan, arching your back into his hand and face, goosebumps blooming all over your shoulders and down your arms and legs.

“C’mon, that’s it. Thassa good girl. You’re so close. Almost there… Good girl… Good girl.”

With a cry, you come undone, rolling your hips every which way as you reach orgasm on Steve’s hand. His voice continues to praise you, lips kissing your sweat-slicked thighs, beard tickling your sensitive skin.

Instead of pulling away, Steve continues to stroke you with his fingers, slowly prodding at your entrance with a third.

“Just trying to get you ready.” He murmurs, and your heart stills. Ready?

You voice your concern, “What do you mean?”

With a slight chuckle, he sits up, wiping his mouth and parts of his beard with the back of his hand. In the dark, Steve reaches for your arm, guiding you to feel exactly what he’s talking about. A strangled cry escapes your throat as you wrap your fingers around his cock. Hot. Throbbing. Big.

Sweet, sensitive, divorced, baker, artist, ceramicist, father Steve fuckin’ Rogers was packing. And it isn’t until you nervously grip him in both hands do you realize the importance of his last statement.

“Can I get you ready, baby?” He asks again.

For the millionth time that night, your eyes roll back and get lost in your head as you lean against the headboard with a whimper. Steve crawls over on top of you, scoops you up once again in his arms, and places you on his lap. Your legs wrap around his back loosely as he holds you still, previous two fingers pushing inside gently.

You rest your head on his shoulder as your body shakes under his ministrations, already tired and overstimulated. Your hands find their way to grip him, massaging his length tenderly, savoring the temperature of his body, spreading the beaded precum at the tip of his cock up and down his shaft. Steve groans, scissoring his fingers inside of you, spreading your walls.

The third finger meets resistance as you tense up.

“S-sorry,” You whisper, “I’m… I’m pretty nervous…” But you move his hand back and try again. He’s so tender and sweet with you as he turns his head to place kisses on your cheek and ear. It’s a few minutes of this exploration before you feel brave enough to shift and stroke him with determination. Steve takes the message as a confirmation and reaches into the end table for a condom.

It’s slipped on and you follow suit, gasping as Steve guides your hips with one hand, and grips himself with the other. Slowly, he fills you inch by inch until he’s so deep inside you think he could emerge from your throat.

“Oh… my… God!” You cry. There aren’t enough words to describe it— the sweetest sting, an all-encompassing and chilling burn, a mystifying and utter fullness that nearly brings tears to your eyes. You’re afraid to move, to lose this sensation, and afraid to feel what comes next. But you know that you want it.

Steve kisses your lips tenderly, babbling praise, whispering affirmations, soothing the shock that surges up your spine with his warm palm. Slowly, he rocks you back, holding onto your body with one hand, smoothing the hair that falls over your face with the other.

You’re gripping him so tightly it takes some effort to slide even an inch of him out— and there’s many inches of him. Sweat collects on your brow as you grind, dragging against his length, forcing shudders to course all over both your bodies. “Is this okay?” you mutter, delirious, “Steve? You feel so good.”

He flexes within you, grunts into your ear. A dry chuckle escapes him as his hand squeezes your back just a little too hard. He’s holding back, trying to prolong your pleasure, but his own is chasing him down, only a few steps away from pouncing.

You coax it towards him with faster snapping of your hips against his, clawing at his back, nibbling on his ear. “Come on, my love… just a little more.”

With a grunt and a shudder, and a hard kiss to your lips that makes your teeth clack against each other, Steve thrusts one last time as deeply as possible, riding out his orgasm as he pulls your hips against his. The two of you feel welded together, sticky with sweat and so tightly flushed that you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. You body slumps as you drape your arms over his neck. Steve turns his head to kiss your shoulder before making the effort to pull away and clean himself up. He goes into the bathroom first, lying you down and covering you with the blanket.

 When he returns, Steve finds you already dozed off. You palm rests under your cheek as you lie on your side, breathing deeply.

As quietly as he can, he squeezes in beside you, fitting himself against your back. He’s read it somewhere, that falling in love was a little bit like falling asleep. As his eyes slip shut, he feels it happening, just like that quote had said: slowly at first, then… all at once.

In the darkness behind his lids, there is strangely so much light.

Next Chapter

[fyrapartnersearch]

Looking for some sci-fi shenanigans!

Obligatory long post ahead warning: this post is quite long and I know it may be intimidating to some readers but please don’t let it put you off if you’d still like to rp with me :)

Hello ladies, gents and fellow rpers. After having a writing blast and seeing how I’ve got room for some more partners I’ve decided to come back in search of some partners who are interested in what I’m looking for.I’ve got a good ten or so odd years of rping experience under my belt but any potential partners do not necessarily have to have the same experience, they simply need to fit under these three things:

-third person only with correct spelling, grammar and punctuation.

- at least one small (no less than seven lines) paragraph per post as well as being willing to write more if the situation calls for it. Please do not contact me intending to give me only small paragraphs with each response as the above is simply the bare minimum I’ll accept if there’s not much going on in the rp that warrants a full paragraph.

-no one liners, one worders, script talk, poorly written sentences or just laziness in general.

This isn’t terribly much to ask for as picky as it sounds.

An important thing I shall mention is that NSFW (i don’t fade to black nor do I care when the smut happens. Just please don’t leave me once the smut has happened like lots of people seem to unfortunately do) and dark themes are a thing that occur in all my rp’s so I require you to at least be eighteen before you reach out to me. I will not accept anyone younger than 18 since I myself am in my early twenties. Underaged characters are also a no go as well. Please know that I’m in the eastern Australian time zone but almost any time zone Is compatible for me as I am awake at very odd hours. Another important thing I shall add is that you must be able to post at least once or more a day and if I don’t get any response after two weeks then I shall simply move on (only exception is if you notify me beforehand as to why you may not be able to post for a while. I’m not that vicious).

I only rp as male characters, as it’s simply my preference, I do MxM or FxM pairings. I will not double and I do not play multiple characters. I don’t do sub/dom dynamics when it comes to any aspect of the relationship. My characters are also non human (they’re aliens since this is a sci-fi rp after all) but what species your character is doesn’t matter to me at all as long as it’s not some god modded Mary Sue. Please remember that alien simply means a creature not from earth. Aliens can have fur, scales, feathers, etc, depending on where they come from. An alien with fur or scalies is not a furry or a scalie and please do not refer to them as such as it’s rude to label someone’s character as something they’re not. I will not write with someone who will insist that the theory of chimpanzees and humans unable to crossbreed should apply to hybrid characters regardless of whether they’re alien/alien or human/alien. This is fiction, not reality. Please also do not control my characters or dictate their actions. My characters are also premade and only have descriptions, I don’t do face claims or pics. I also do not care if you make a character up on the spot.

Please remember that this is a sci-fi rp and that I will not accept requests to do fandoms or any genre that doesn’t fit within the category of sci-fi. i will not accept a character that has no place in a sci-fi rp either like a dragon,harpy,demon, elf or some other fantasy creature.

All aboard the galactica!:

The galactica was a first class explorer ship led by only the greatest of military leaders and alliance figures. Many cadets dreamed of the day that they would one day either get to work onboard the ship whilst many more longed for the day that they’d be chosen as it’s next captain. To be the leader at the helm of the ship was considered the greatest honour and duty one could ever have befall them. Not everyone is content with having the responsibility of an entire fleet on their shoulders nor are the first few days, months or even years of being captain easy. To top it off, not everyone always agreed with the captains choice of their chosen protégé. As a wise man once said, one must be a follower before they could become a leader. When disaster strikes, will the remaining crew members be able to accept their new dynamic, or will it all fall to chaos?

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the character chosen to be the next captain of the galactica, you can either play as my character’s rival or a friend who has turned a bit cold from jealousy. I’m also open to you being the one who was chosen to be the next captain.)

Precious one:

It was supposed to be a simple job with a end goal that would benefit just about everyone: escort the snobbish prince/princess of lektora to their new home on their betrotheds home world and return home to malgor to have a secret celebration with the other knights, guards and castle staff about how they’d be free to live in peace once more whilst the king and queen were too busy praising themselves for all they’d accomplished in life. Sadly, not everyone seems to be happy about the two main planets of power coming together as one and an unknown party has sought to stop it. What was once a simple journey to and from one place has become a quest that will cause views and hearts to change with each passing day and moment as two people fight to survive and figure out what went wrong before it’s too late.

(Important point of notice: I do not mind who plays what. Just let me know who you’d like to be :))

Academy days:

*the galaxy alliance and military defence force academy was one of the most respected training academies in the known galaxies. Men, women, aliens, humans and all of those who were in between went there to study, train and, one day if they passed the mentally, emotionally and physically gruelling years of tests, fly and be put in their own squadron. There were approximately six spots to fill on any team and the cadet who suited that spot the most would be given the title of pilot, squad leader, second in command, engineer, gunner and navigator. Each team was similar but unique in what they did. Not everyone gets along though and rivalries grow high during that delicate time between graduating and being put on a team. What happens when the top student and the lonesome outcast with a temper clashes?*

(Important point of notice: I’m also open to this being a story about new recruits on a space ship who still have a fair few things to learn before they can consider themselves official crew members.)

First day on the job:

Everyone at the space academy remembers graduation day. The day where they became recognised as the very things they strived to be whether it’s a pilot, an engineer, mechanic, a simple Jack of all trades or even a commander if they worked hard enough. Everyone also remembers the few days after the big Moment as well. Days where one is expected to take to whatever rank they’ve had bestowed upon them almost immediately and the responsibilities that came with it as if they’d been born to do it from day one. Some things are easier said than done though, especially when trouble finds ways to manifest in forms that many would not suspect to be of any cause for concern.

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the newly graduated commander of a small crew. You are free to play as either a crew member of any rank or even a trouble making character like a criminal or something similar that gives my character a run for their money. Possibilities are endless)

Runaway royalty:

The life of a Royal was simple yet complex at the same time. They were weighed on hand and foot and never had to lift a finger to do anything provided there was a maid or servant nearby willing to do whatever task it was the royal had for them. They were expected to grow into decent, respectable leaders who could ruler a planet fairly without struggle. For many royals, they were content to follow this regularly repeating path of “destiny” that their ancestors had set them on. All but one it seems. What happens when a sheltered prince/princess takes their chance on the world beyond the walls of their castle for a chance to see the universe itself?

(Important point of notice: you will be playing the prince/princess. I’ll be playing the non Royal character they run into.)

Worlds apart:

War. War was a terrible thing that brought nations to their knees and saw many people lose their lives and freedom. Many people and aliens liked to think that all the major wars were over and done with, that they’d never have to relive the horrors that once fell upon them. To put it simply: if no one hears about bad happenings, then it’s not their problem that needs to be taken care of nor does it exist. Sadly, it does not seem to be the case for everyone. A stranger from a planet so far away that many do not believe it to exist turns up on the doorstep of an alien who is forced to realise that war could very well be just around the corner once more.

Forced:

“there’s no such thing as a bad person. Only bad choices.” Is a saying that is older than time itself. For many who are forced into a position where they have no other choice but to put their morals aside and do as they’re told, this is all too true. A space farer is captured by criminals and forced to choose between death or working as the criminals captain’s personal assistant. That means every order has to be obeyed and every rule must be followed or consequences will be dealt by force. As time passes and life go ons, the captured spacer starts to see his predicament in a different light.

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the captured spacer. You will be playing the captain.)

Forbidden romance:

aliens and humans are forbidden from associating with one another in any way that isn’t political. Whilst the two races have put aside enough of their differences to coexist in their own little pockets of space, not everyone is accepting of the idea that the two different species could live together as one, let alone ever simply just coexist peacefully together without insisting that alien planets and human planets are to be kept seperate. To trespass on the strictly human or alien occupied planets is a crime that few dare to commit. What starts out as a simple act of one sided rebellion and show of courage turns into an unanticipated adventure.

(Important point of notice, I shall be playing the alien. I’m open to this also being an alien X alien pairing.)

The hunter and the hunted:

bounty hunting was one of the few illegal professions in the galaxy that made any trouble you got into for participating in the act of killing or kidnapping someone for worth it depending on who it was you’d been given the task of tracking down. Many bounties were more profitable alive of course since it cut back on many of the legal troubles one could face if caught with a dead body. A galaxy renowned bounty hunter has been tasked with taking down one of the roughest and most wanted criminals known to man and alien with the orders to return them dead or alive. Will they succeed or fail like many before them have?

(Important point of notice: I shall be playing the criminal. You shall be playing the bounty hunter.)

Space criminals and the law:

humans and aliens have been living amongst each other side by side ever since humanity dared to venture beyond the Milky Way and made first contact with aliens. With the solar system no longer being man’s only playground other planets were quickly colonised under the new alliance between extraterrestrials and Homo sapiens. Whether you were an alien, human or a hybrid did not matter in the known galaxies. All that mattered was who you were. Not everyone took to the integration very well (there were numerous protests on both sides) but most people were willing to share in the hopes of peace. Not everyone had good intentions though……

Trouble in the alien kingdom:

the planet of (insert generic planet name here) was one of prosperity, hardship and wealth. The kingdom of (insert generic kingdom name here) was ruled by a king and a queen whose heir was betrothed to a rival planet in the hopes that a political marriage would prevent another war from happening. Only problem was that no one could see the rival planets true plans….all but one. Unfortunately no ones going to listen to a deranged commoner who probably may not even be telling the truth. What’s one to do when no one will listen?

Exile:

The wind howled as thunder crashed and shrieked all around the abandoned cargo ship. Rain pelted the metal hull, turning the ground into a cold, treacherously slippery and muddy shallow river. The ship itself had crashed into the planet countless centuries ago and was slowly being reclaimed by the environment. Plants grew from cracks in the floor as moss and vines decorated the walls. A figure sat miserably hunched in what was once the cockpit of the ship, their only shelter from the raging elements outside but not from the storm that raged inside of them. The figure leapt to their feet as the sounds of footsteps in the mud drew closer and they held their breath. Who would dare to venture out here on such a miserable night?

War of the worlds:

humans and aliens were never meant to coexist peacefully with one another. There was too much fear, Too much misinformation and too much bias on both sides for such a thing to have ever been successful. It was the humans fault that the war had started. They were the ones who’d shot down the alien ship that had been packed with specially chosen diplomats that represented each alien race known to the galaxies they dwelled in that had been on their way to earth to negotiate a truce and a plan for peace. They hadn’t even hesitated to shoot the ship full of aliens yet they’d been surprised when war had been declared on the spot. Two races. Two worlds so different yet the same fighting one another for what was either a mistake or intentional murder.

Rehab:

The UGWP alliance (unite the galaxies for the protection of all worlds and for peace alliance) portrayed themselves as calm, charismatic and kind men and women who held only the thoughts of a life together with all species living happily together. They advertised campaigns for inter species jobs, provided information to the public about human/alien interactions and encouraged diversity amongst planets. Their rehabilitation program for troublesome fellows was considered to be a god send to try and cut down on the amount of space related crimes. No one ever questioned what went on beyond the closed doors to the facility, if they did, the UGWP would have their darkest secrets revealed. Something they strove to keep under wraps. When the arrival of a particularly wild prisoner occurs, the threat of their first failure and first escaped prisoner is lurking around the corner.

(Important point of notice: in this rp idea I’d be playing said prisoner, I don’t mind if you choose to be one as well.)

Academy days:

the galaxy alliance and military defence force academy was one of the most respected training academies in the known galaxies. Men, women, aliens, humans and all of those who were in between went there to study, train and, one day if they passed the mentally, emotionally and physically gruelling years of tests, fly and be put in their own squadron. There were approximately six spots to fill on any team and the cadet who suited that spot the most would be given the title of pilot, squad leader, second in command, engineer, gunner and navigator. Each team was similar but unique in what they did. Not everyone gets along though and rivalries grow high during that delicate time between graduating and being put on a team. What happens when the top student and the lonesome outcast with a temper clashes?

Captured:

Space criminals have been around ever since advanced technology allowed others to travel and live in space as if they were living anywhere else. They’re often cunning, tricky to catch and more often than not are clever at disguising themselves whenever those wanted posters come up. It takes skill to be on the wrong side of space law and true talent to get away with it. The galaxy’s current most wanted man has finally been captured by an alliance captain and his crew. Will he beg for mercy? Will he be given a trial before being thrown into a cell to rot or will he be given a chance to turn himself around with some hard labour?

(Important point of notice: I’ll be playing the criminal for this one. You will be the alliance captain)

Enslaved:

imagine living the life of one of the most successful people on the run that could exist. Galaxies trembled at your name. You and your crew swam in wealth and the going was good. Mutiny, sadly and sometimes not sadly, exists on its own accord. One man reflected on this as he was forced to his feet. A collar attached to a chain and electromagnetic handcuffs prevented his escape as he stood for all those who cared to glance as they walked by in the market to see. No one wants to have their only life’s purpose to be to serve another……only sometimes people don’t get that choice.

(Important point of notice: I’ll be playing the slave/servant. You’ll be the master/mistress.)

Betrothed:

for as long as there has been civilisation and leaders, there has been arranged marriages. Arranged marriages, or betrothals as they were more often called, consisted of pairing two people together and making them get married in order to secure ties to another land or another planet. Political marriages benefited everyone but the married pair it always seemed. After all, you couldn’t possibly be happy being married to a complete and utter stranger? How does one who is betrothed build a life of love and prosperity when the one who bears the rings of their union is not the one who also bears their heart?

(Important point of notice: this can go two ways, either our characters are betrothed to each other or one character is betrothed. The idea has endless possibilities)

Invasion:

march 18th in the year of 6079 was the day that the aliens invaded earth. They’d been planning the take over for some time as they came prepared and easily took out Earth’s defence forces. No one knows exactly why the extraterrestrial beings from the outer worlds came to the humble blue and green planet the humans had existed on for millions of years nor did they seem to have any true intentions known other than conquering the planet and taking it for their own. This has led to the belief that all aliens must be the cruel monsters the humans stories have made them out to be. What happens when the actions of one alien puts that to the test?

(Important point of notice: I’m open to having this idea turned around and having the humans invade an alien world to take over.)

The chosen:

The galaxy alliance had chosen its newest crew to serve and protect the known galaxies. Five young cadets who’d graduated at the top of their classes and would hopefully mark the start of a new generation of spacers and heroes. The leader of the new crew has yet to be decided and tensions are high because of this. Can differences be put aside and acceptance shown? Or will nothing but chaos ensue?

The Walking wounded:

when one worked as a galaxy defence force member, they were on the frontline of everything. Every battle. Every loss. Every victory. Every struggle that the force went through they had to be there and follow the rules. You could not kill an unarmed person regardless of whether they were hostile or not. You could not turn down a plea for help even when there was reasons to suspect something was amiss. In simple terms: you simply couldn’t do anything that would make your morals be questioned. What happens when even the captain says to leave all those rules and everything you were taught by the door when faced with someone who seems to be the exception to the rule. What’s the right thing to do not by them but the entire galaxy?

Stowaway:

the galaxies were once a place of freedom and exploration. A place where you had no limits as to where you wanted to go. Now thanks to new laws, permits are required to access certain systems, quadrants and galaxies. Problem is, this permit is unobtainable by the average civilian so many have taken to learning the art of boarding another’s ship and hoping for the best. Discovery is more or less a matter of life and death. What happens when someone is unfortunate enough to be discovered?

Monster:

aliens. Aliens were terrifying beasts that were the monster in every bedtime story the humans told their children to keep them home at night. Many mothers wept when their sons and daughters applied to the space military in order to keep the extra terrestrial scum away from the galaxies they’d claimed as their own. When a human ship crashes on an alien world so far away from human civilisation it may as well not exist to the aliens and a crew member is found lost and alone by a wandering alien, will their fate be decided by a monster? Or a benevolent being?

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the alien in this scenario. I’m also open to the characters situations being swapped around so it’s the alien who crashes.)

On the run:

even on the most modern of planets, life on the lamb can be difficult. There’s authorities to avoid and even more rules to break in the game of survival. No one takes pity on those who have done wrong to the point that they have their face in the paper. Even if it’s not your fault will anyone give you shelter from the harsh cold winds of reality and a biased opinion. What happens when someone does take a chance on a poor wayfaring stranger? Will the wrong doer be turned in or given a new lease on life?

Disgraced:

when one entered the royal guard they took upon themselves an oath that bound them by blood and courage to the dedication of the protection of their king, queen and the kingdoms heirs. They were sworn to protect them from any harm whilst at the same time not allowed to use their position or power to hurt anyone else. When one breaks that oath, they are sent away in disgrace and branded as a traitor who must swear to never return. Life on the run changes people, sometimes for the better…..or for worse.

Space pirates and nobles:

space was a vast starry and endless sea that many voyaged across for the purpose of research, leisure or finding ones destiny. Like any real ocean, it was filled with dangers. The most feared of all was space pirates. Bands of blood thirsty cut throats and scandalous troublemakers whose sole pleasure in life was to steal, kill and take others prisoner against their will. Only pirates dare to do what other criminals would not. When a merchant ship is robbed by pirates what fate will befall the nobles onboard?

Healing wounds, growing love:

winter on the planet of malgor is one that is feared for its extreme weather. Snowstorms could appear out of nowhere and many a traveller had frozen to death whilst trying to make their way from one village to another. It was also a time where people were at their most vulnerable, relying on the winter harvest to feed every mouth that had been born and raised in the kingdom meant no mercy was spared for poor wayfaring strangers. When a kind soul finds a wounded outcast and decides to bring them home, they discover a threat that’s lurking just beyond the borders of their place of protection.

The knight and the heir:

royals could be spoilt. There was no denying that. A life of good food, wealth, the knowledge that they’d be pampered and weighed on hand and foot by servants was more than enough to turn even the most well mannered child into an insufferable brat. The knights tasked with the protection of the future royals knew this all too well. What happens when one particularly gruff, no nonsense knight refuses to bow to the whim of their future ruler and shows them what it means to be a true leader?

The last of a dying breed:

long ago, in a time when nobles, governments and space Pirates ruled the starry seas of space, there was a terrifying race of aliens that were considered to be the most dangerous creatures to have ever lived. When the great wars started up again due to rising tensions, the humans destroyed the planet these aliens lived on to ensure the battlefield was even. The aliens were furious at the death of an entire race and very quickly turned each and every human occupied planet into a warzone littered with their bases and encampments. Only in very small pockets of the universe does this war not exist. What happens when the last member of the species shows up on a small backwater planet?

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the alien who is the last of their kind, you are free to play as a human or the story can be made to suite a scenario where you are also an alien.)

Harden my heart:

once upon a time, there was two friends who were the best of friends that anyone could have ever seen. Two people who had each other’s backs through thick and thin. Two people who supported each other endlessly even if their morals weren’t entirely inline with each other’s. Two friends who swore to never leave each other’s sides. Alas with the time of great growing came changes, the two friends bond had severed and they’d gone their separate ways in life. What happens when they run into each other many years later?

(This idea is one open to brainstorming, anything is possible.)

captain on deck!:

captains weren’t meant to fall in love with their subordinates. They were supposed to be well refined leaders who only mingled with those of a similar status. They represented the people they worked for after all, therefore they had an image that had to be strictly maintained towards the public in order to not be disgraced in any form. Behind closed doors however…..feelings were allowed to be a little more free. Secret lovers were frowned upon but one could take the risk if they were careful. After all, the captains word was law.

yes sir!:

order.serve.fight.lead.mourn.sleep.eat.rethink your life choices and repeat. Such was the ways of a military lifestyle on a world where war seemed to be a permanent occurrence and the leaders of every world trying their best to outspite one another with their relentless attacks that it made one think of how they could improve the boring daily routine they endured each and every day. In the army, you have to be tough if you want to be a leader. You had to be charismatic, strong, cold, incapable of doing anything that would sway you to possibly turn the other cheek and let your comrades be hurt. However, even the most stoic and battle hardened leaders can get lonely despite the fact that attachments to ones comrades outside of anything but friendship are forbidden by an unspoken law.

I need you:

space is a cruel mistress to even those who are experienced with charting her waters. Space, although beautiful, is often the grave of many brave explorers, soldiers and other space faring strangers. When a stranger comes to scavenge parts from a newly crashed ship in the hopes of finding something useful, they come across a familiar face. Old feelings stir and clash with one another when the crash’s survivor awakens and finds out who their rescuer is.

Sooooo….. about those pairings. What has two stars next to it is what I’m going to play if we choose the scenario:

1: enemies to lovers or rivals.

2: **captured criminal** x prison guard or other prisoner.

3: two soldiers from seperate sides falling in love.

4: **academies bad boy/outcast** x top student

5: **low ranking ship crew member/second in command/captured space criminal** x captain.

6: **commoner/rogue/knight/street rat** x prince/princess/king/queen

7: **slave/servant** x master

8: army superior x **lower ranking soldier**

9: married person X unmarried person

10: stowaway x captain

11: nurse x **injured soldier**

12: human x **alien**

13: bully x **victim**

14: old lovers/friends finding each other again.

PLEASE DO NOT APPROACH ME IF:

1: YOU GHOST AT THE DROP OF A HAT.

2: YOU ARE NOT WILLING TO PUT EFFORT IN TO MEET MY REQUIREMENTS.

I’m open to discussing and potentially mixing these ideas up till we get something that we both like. If you want to learn more about a certain idea tell me the name and I shall expand on it.

The only platforms I rp on are discord,telegram and google hangouts. I will not rp on any other platform other than the ones listed. If you do not have any of those then unfortunately we cannot rp. When you reach out to me requesting for an rp via one of the below platforms In the opening message tell me what idea you liked, why you liked it, give me a little introduction about you and you must put 123 somewhere in your message so that I know you’ve read all of my post, don’t just put “hi wanna rp”. Make it interesting.

My contacts

Discord: crankypurplespacecat#6187

My telegram: Tiberionwars

My hangouts: lleo52560@gmail.com

I look forwards to meeting potential partners.

[cintanna-stuff]

Today I decided to write about something “controversial”. All of the people who follow me know I love Lance’s character and would like to have him as a route. Is this problematic? Apparently. Would they have a healthy relationship? I wish, but I don’t think it matters. Wouldn’t this give women the wrong idea about how a relationship should be? wouldn’t it be better if this never happened? This is what this post is going to be about. This is going to be long and it applies not only to eldarya but also to any otome, novel or movie you can think of.

I’m going to be direct. Please don't treat grown women like they're susceptible children, this game is clearly for young-adult women and some of us like this type of content. You could argue Beemoov isn’t very clear about that rating, sure, but that’s it. Women aren't dumb (let that be clear) and can tell the difference between a game or book and real life as well as make their own decisions. You don’t have to choose for them wether something is acceptable to see or not, could be toxic for them or not or if it should or shouldn’t be enjoyed. 

I can guarantee you that one of the things abused women want is to have their own life back under control and make their own decisions, make their own mistakes, because guess what abusers do: control your life. Control what you can or cannot see, eat, listen to or read, make you feel guilty for enjoying things. Do you really think an abusive man would let “his woman” play a game where she can date 5 virtual dudes? No. So please, consider letting women enjoy books and novels, videogames or movies, doesn’t matter how problematic or controversial might seem to you. 

Some women like reading about sweet romances, others enjoy romances that would be considered unhealthy, toxic or even dangerous in real life and that’s okay. Because when you’re reading a book, watching a movie or playing a game, you are the one in control and you made your own decision and are enjoying yourself without harming anyone, you can stop it whenever you want. And no, women won’t date abusers because they saw it in a game. Just because I liked the movie The Martian doesn’t mean I’d sign up to get stranded in planet Mars.

Now, if you ever start dating an abuser, you won’t know right away. Abusers don’t harm you since day 1, they start as sweet, compromising, romantic people who groom you into the relationship. Once you’re in love and everything is “perfect” they’ll start to control you “for your own good”, they’ll make you feel guilty for enjoying stuff and you’ll think they’re right, they’ll start to control who you’re talking to, what do you search on the internet, your phone calls, will put you against your family and friends, they will keep abusing you mentally while saying “it’s for your own good, I don’t like to do this but you’re making me do it, I just want the best for us” and eventually might end up physical. Women end up in these shitty situations because they get lured into them, because they’re guilted and shamed by someone they “loved and trusted”, not because they saw it in a stupid otome game, thought it was cute and started dating the first dude that punched them on the street.

You want good advice for women to not fall into abusive relationships? don’t let anyone tell you what to do, keep your friends and family close and never let any of your partners put you against them or make you choose, never let anyone shame or make you feel guilty for enjoying yourself with a book or a game, doesn’t matter if it’s a book about taking care of your cactus or a game about dating a villain. If a man loves you, he’ll let you do the things you enjoy and won’t make you feel bad or weird about doing them, might even support you (yes, my boyfriend supports me in my quest to date Lance, he even jokes about it “I already have blue eyes but should I dye my hair white for you😫?” xd)

This might be funny but I think a good example of “I’m actually protecting from dangerous things” is in the movie Tangled. Gothel lies to Rapunzel telling her she’s her mother and locking her in a tower, forbidding her from going outside because everything outside is too dangerous for a young woman. Rapunzel has few books in her shelves, has to spend her time doing harmless hobbies like painting the walls in her tower and when she asks her “mother” to take her to see the lights, she dismisses her wishes and sings a song to scare her about how much she’s protecting her from the outside world. In the end, Rapunzel breaks free with the help of Eugene who promises to take her to see the lights and lives some cool adventures in the process, she goes through some dangerous and life threatening situations but also meets unexpected good people and finds love in Eugene, a burglar and wanted criminal in the realm. Rapunzel took control of her own life and chose to disobey Gothel and risk to go outside to see the lights, with Eugene by her side, she started to do whatever she wanted. This is why for me Tangled>Frozen 🤣 

But back to the topic, what about this game, Eldarya? If you don't like a route, don't play it, choose someone else. No one is forcing you to romance Lance, you have the option to spit on his face, insult him, bite him and try to push him off the cliff if you want to. So, think of this character whatever you want, but consider that other women enjoy or could enjoy him and want him to be an option eventually, there’s no need to advocate against them. Please, consider that maybe some of the women you’re advocating against and trying to make feel guilty for liking Lance (or Leiftan who isn’t clearly a healthy relationship either) might have been victims of abuse themselves in the past and now they’re seeing people who shame them and want to censor that game they chose to play 🙃. Let women be free to choose and enjoy.

As for myself, I can tell you I expect Lance to change if he ever becomes an option, I like seeing the journey of redeemed characters. I enjoy his attitude as a villain but no, I don’t like him hitting or trying to harm my character, but that might change in the future. I don’t care wether this is realistic or not because this is a fantasy game and even if I believe the writing must follow a certain logic, these characters we’re playing with aren’t in our own context nor existent. Lance isn’t even supposed to be a human being and I hope he never fully behaves as one, that’s part of what makes him attractive to me.