#this took me like fifteen minutes i was originally just going to post the ms paint doodle and get it over with. then firealpaca possessed m

[zorndog]

gabriel ultrakill voice SEX

hello ultrakill fandom. i don't go here.

[fabrowrites]

Oh, can I be your Bibilly Hills?

For Lloyd’s very late birthday! also on ao3 and ffn.net.

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Kai stands at the entrance to the cafeteria.  The bustle in the room is loud with kids meeting up with their friends, the snapping open of lunchboxes, and chairs and tables being squeaked across the floor.

Kai exhales.  He hikes his backpack higher onto his back.  Then he squares his shoulders and walks over to the table in the far corner of the room where only one person sits, despite the overcrowding at all the rest of the tables.

Lloyd Garmadon’s eyes lift as Kai drops into the seat across from him, only to return to his plate again just as quickly.  One by one, the rest of their secret ninja crew arrive.  They send glances at each other, and at Lloyd, who has started to eat his food with laser-like focus.  

It’s only been a week since Master Wu gathered them all together for a “very important meeting”.  It’s only been a week since he told them they were ready to take the next step in their team-building.  It’s only been a week since their eternally-masked leader took off his hood, only to reveal the son of Ninjago City’s very own warlord hiding beneath it.

Needless to say, conversation is stilted.  

A hand comes down on the table with a resounding smack.  Chen, captain of the cheer team, leans over their table.  “Hey, look, everyone,” he says mockingly.  “Garmadork has a dork squad now.”  He gives their table an obvious once-over, grin widening.  “Aw, why are you sitting with him?  Are your daddies super-villains too?”

“Hi, Chen,” Lloyd says.  “Nice insult.  Much more original than your last one- what was it?  The Bad Dad Lad?”

Chen’s face twists up in a sneer.  His hand snakes out and smacks Lloyd’s water bottle over, instantly flooding his lunch.  “Oops,” he says, sounding not at all sorry.  “I didn’t see that there!  Hope that wasn’t all you had.”

He saunters off, looking inordinately pleased with himself.  Lloyd, on the other hand, stares for several long seconds at his ruined lunch.  Kai expects him to look furious, or at the very least, upset, but there’s only this sad sort of look on his face.  Like he’d been expecting it to happen.  It’s so awful to look at that something in Kai snaps.  

“Here, have some of mine,” he says, shoving his bento forward.  “I always take too much rice anyways.”

Nya gives him a near-imperceptible nod from across the table; she’s thinking the same thing.  God, Kai loves his sister so much.  “This is true,” she says.  “The day Kai doesn’t bring home leftovers is the day he’s been replaced by his evil clone.”

Kai opens his mouth, intending to say just what he thought of that, when a quiet noise brings him back to the situation at hand.  Lloyd looks at them both, mouth parting slightly.  “Are you sure?” he asks, but he can’t disguise the way he’s already eying the bento up.

“Take it,” Kai insists. “It’s not doing me any good sitting here.”

Kai can see Lloyd’s hesitation wavering.  A moment later, the other boy accepts it with a quiet, “thank you”.  

The other ninja are watching.  Kai catches their eyes and mouths ‘later’ above Lloyd’s head.  After lunch wraps up, and Lloyd excuses himself to use the restroom, they all gather near the window.

“What happened at lunch-” Kai says without preamble- “it can’t happen again.”  It’s not like he was expecting them to protest, but something warms in his chest at how intensely they immediately nod.  They must look like a pack of bobbleheads to anyone passing by.

“He was just so sad,” Nya says.  “It makes me want to punch something.  Preferably Chen’s face.”

Jay backs a step away from her, laughing that nervous laugh of his.  Cole hums.  His ever-present headphones are hanging around his neck, which is how Kai knows just how seriously he’s taking it.  Headphone removal: truly the highest form of respect in the modern age.  “We should do something for him,” he says.

“Normal human teenager things?” asks Zane.

“Exactly!” says Kai.  “He’s an only child!  I bet he’s never had a blanket fort before!”

“We can make it at his house so he can keep it up longer,” Cole says.  “I’ve dropped off homework for him before.  I still have his address in my phone.”

“I’ll take him out after school to the comic book shop so you guys have more time,” Jay offers.  He twists his hands in his ever-present orange scarf.  

“And we’ll get the snacks,” Nya finishes.  She sticks her hand out.  The rest of them do too, and then there’s a period of silence where they look at each other awkwardly.  Wow, they really are lost without Lloyd.

Cole sighs.  “Ninja go,” he says.

“Ninja go!” Kai says.  The game is afoot.  

------------

The walk to the comic books shop is literally the definition of awkward silence.  

Jay and Lloyd walk three feet apart on the sidewalk.  Their eyes meet fleetingly across the way before skittering away.  People who pass them stare, and Jay ducks his head and meeps at each hateful glare sent his way.

“You don’t have to do this,” Lloyd mumbles.

Jay jumps.  “Huh?”  

Lloyd shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket.  “I said,” he says a bit louder, “you don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” Jay says nervously.  He wrings his hands in his scarf.  “I’m not doing anything?”

Lloyd looks pointedly at his hands.  He huffs, dipping his head so his bangs cover his eyes,  “Make yourself be nice to me, or whatever it is that you and the rest of them are trying to do.  I have eyes, Jay,” he says, when Jay opens his mouth to protest.  He glances up at him through his curtain of hair, and something in his face softens.  “It’s okay.  I’m used to it.”

Jay doesn’t know what to say to that.  But something comes over him, and before he can talk himself out of it he’s bridging the gap to walk right beside Lloyd.  Lloyd looks up sharply.  

“We want to be nice to you,” he says softly.  “You’re part of our team, aren’t you?”

Lloyd snorts.  “Some might go as far to call me the leader,” he says, but there’s this quiet, sort of pleased look on his face.  It’s enough for Jay to stick by his side, even as they move towards the busier part of the city and the glares and angry whispers increase.  

It takes them about fifteen minutes to get to the comic book shop.  Jay swings the door open, inhaling that paper-ink-and-smelly-teenager scent he’s become intimately familiar with.  Lloyd follows more hesitantly, blinking at the racks upon racks of books, merch, and everything in between.  His eyes widen when they land on the display case right in front of them.  

“No way!” he says, springing forward.  “I didn’t know this came out!”

“What?” asks Jay, jumping sideways to see.  “Is that the new edition of Starfarer?  Wait, you like Starfarer too?”

Lloyd is already flipping through the chapter, eyes scanning the pages.  “It was my favorite as a kid!” he says excitedly.  ‘I didn’t know they were still making it.  The library only has through chapter sixteen.”

“I think there’s forty-two now,” Jay offers.  Lloyd gives him a look that’s halfway between horrified and delighted.  Jay can’t help but grin back.  He goes to say something else, but a sharp exhale nearby interrupts their moment.  

Two men are standing across the room, muttering and glaring alternatively at them.  No, at Lloyd.  One scowls at them and leaves, heading towards the front desk.

“We should go,” Lloyd says.  With great reluctance, he sets the comic back down and pats it into place.  “I don’t want you getting in trouble for me.”

It’s like that one tumblr post- and Jay will deny to the end that he has a tumblr- that’s like: ‘if somebody is more uncomfortable than me I am suddenly able to Do The Thing’.  “No, we just got here,” he says.  “We can’t leave yet.”

Lloyd looks obviously torn.  Jay sees the manager heading their way and makes the decision for him. Seizing his hand, he pulls Lloyd deeper into the store.  They speed-walk through the isles, ending up near the back.  

“They shouldn’t do that to you,” he says.  

Lloyd shrugs, eyes cast off to one side.  “It’s not like it’s anything new.”  

“Still,” Jay says, feeling his ears heat up.  The adrenaline of the moment has worn off, and now he’s feeling the embarrassment from his spontaneity.  “It’s not cool.”

Lloyd stares at him for several long seconds.  Jay squirms.  Lloyd looks like he wants to say something, but then his eyes slide past Jay and land on something behind him.

Lloyd’s entire face lights up.  “I thought they discontinued this years ago!”  He starts pawing through the container, making little mumbling comments and noises underneath his breath.  

Jay takes out his phone and surreptitiously sends a text to the group.  

bluejay: okay we are keeping him!!!

kaiguy: was that ever even an option?

-------------

The woman who opens the door for Cole and Zane looks… tired, for lack of a better way to put it.  Her hair is done up in a messy bun and there are dark circles under her eyes as she regards the pair of them warily.  

“Mrs. Garmadon?” asks Zane.

“Ms. Ito,” says the woman.  Her expression flattens the longer they stay silent.  “Look, if you’re looking to hassle me or Lloyd, it’s been a long day and-”

We’re some of Lloyd’s friends from school,” Cole blurts out.  He freezes the moment the words leave his mouth- interrupting someone?   Idiot, Mom taught you better than this - but the words themselves don’t feel false in his mouth.  They feel right, an unshakable truth like the laws of gravitation and motion, steady as the earth beneath his feet. He spares a look at Zane and finds the other nodding his agreement.

Lloyd’s mom, however, looks like she’s been slapped in the face.  ‘Friends?” she echoes, almost like she doesn’t believe them.  Which, as Cole reflects, shouldn’t be that surprising.  He’s seen the bullying at school firsthand.  A wave of regret knocks into him for all the times he’s stayed silent and watched- not participating, just not stepping in.  Never again, he swears to himself.  

While Cole’s been having this epiphany, Zane’s been barreling on ahead without him.  “Lloyd was harassed this morning in school,” he says primly.  “We want to build a structure of blankets for him in your apartment.”

Zane, Cole thinks, internally slapping his palm against his forehead.  

But Lloyd’s mom looks so grateful that Cole feels suddenly sick.  This woman has two complete strangers standing on her doorstep, practically demanding to be let in so they can destroy her house with pillows and blankets and loud teenagers.  She shouldn’t look like they’ve just saved her dog from a house fire.

“It’s really nothing,” he grits out.  “We just wanted to do something for him.”

He’s staring at the load of blankets in his arms, so he doesn’t see Lloyd’s mom move.  Suddenly, there are hands taking the pile from him.  Her face appears in front of his.  “It’s not nothing,” she says softly.  She doesn’t elaborate, but neither of them need her to.  “Come on in.  I’ll show you where everything is.”

------------

“Vegetable or Sriracha?’

“Does he like spicy things?”

Kai looks down at the two bags of chips in his hands.  “Both,” he decides.  “Both is good.”

Both their phones go off at the same time: Kai’s the default BorgPhone ringtone he’s never figured out how to change, Nya’s the Wilhelm Scream.  Nya digs hers out first.  “It’s Jay.”

Kai juggles the chips with the rest of the snacks in his arms.

jaybird: were almost done here

jaybird: well be at his house in like 20

jaybird: r u guys done yet?

do it for the vinyl: 👌

frozane: 😁 🥰 😚 😋 🤗 😇 🙃 😆 🤣 😘 🤪 🤩

Kai pockets his phone.  “Guess that’s our cue to go.”

They pay quickly and rush over to Lloyd’s house, using the address Cole had texted them all earlier.  

Kai hands off his bags to Zane, switching his shoes.  “Let’s see what you’ve done!”  He catches sight of the fort from the corner of his eye and his jaw drops.  “Woah.”

“Right?” Cole smirks.  

Kai’s too focused on the mass of colors and fabric swallowing up the living room, otherwise he would pick a fight.  He crawls through the entrance, a sheet hanging loose between two cushions.  

The fort is nearly tall enough to stand up in.  Cole and Zane have slung sheets from the lamp to the couch to a coat rack, using tape, clips and pillows to secure the blankets down.  A music stand supports the entire thing in the center.  Kai didn’t know that Lloyd took music, though maybe he should have expected it because, hello, Asian?  It seems like not knowing is a depressingly common thread running through all that they’ve been learning.

Kai squares his shoulders.  Nope.  Now’s not the time for beating himself up.  He’s just gonna do better, be better, from here on out.  

“Bring the snacks in already!” he hollers, sticking his head out the hole.  “Lloyd’s gonna be here any minute!”

Cole raises his eyebrow judgmentally, even as he passes him the bags of chips.  Nya has no such restraint and throws dried squid at his face.  

“Lloyd just texted to say he’s on his way,” Lloyd’s mom tells them from the kitchen entrance.  Kai thinks her expression is a mix of fear and awe, which is always a good reaction to one of Kai’s ideas.  

Kai can hear them now, feet thudding softly on the wood of the hallway through the thin walls.  They’re laughing at something- presumably a meme on Jay’s phone.  The dork has thousands of them.  Someone bangs against the door and then it swings open.  

“Hey, Mom,” Lloyd says, and Kai doesn’t think he’s ever heard him this happy.  The blond is switching his shoes, completely unaware of the spectacle behind him.  “Sorry that I’m late, we lost track of-”

He turns around and freezes.

“Surprise!” Kai shouts.  Behind Lloyd, Jay starts cheering.  Nya salutes him from her position sprawled on the couch and Cole and Zane wave at him from beside the fort.  

Lloyd’s mouth drops open.  “What?” he splutters.  “Wait, what’s going on?  What is all this?”

“Can’t we do something nice for our bro just ‘cause we feel like it?”  Kai crawls out and goes to him, slinging his arm across his shoulders.  

“Guys,” Lloyd says.  

To Kai’s horror, his eyes are wet around the corners.  Shoot, did they mess up?  “Don’t cry!” he yelps, voice cracking embarrassingly at the end.  “We’ll pick it all up, don’t worry!”

“No, no,” Lloyd says hurriedly.  “You did this for me?” he asks, awe in his voice. He glances around the room.  “All of you?”

“Of course,” Zane says.  “You are our friend.”

“We realized we’ve been a little lacking in that department,” Nya chimes in.  “So here’s us, making up for it!  We’re nowhere near done yet either,” she warns.  “Constant vigilance!”

Lloyd discreetly wipes his eyes.  “Thanks,” he says.  “I love a good threatening in my own living room.”

And for a moment, they all stay put in their places, grinning widely from Lloyd to each other.  Lloyd’s mom smiles softly, unseen, from where she stands in the kitchen.  

Kai grins.  The moment breaks.  “Well, don’t just stand there.  C’mon!  You’ve got to see what Cole and Zane did inside.”

[alderaan-babe]

“Six Sentence Sunday”

Originally I was going to post a snippet from my Star Wars fic I’m working on, but I was abruptly struck with inspiration for a BNHA fic I’ve been contemplating writing, and I busted out almost 500 words for it within an hour so I figured I’d share it. (Obviously it’s a bit longer than six sentences but just go with it lol) ((and it has not been beta’d we die like men))

Breaking Point

A spitball hit Izuku’s head for the fourth time within fifteen minutes. Class still had another thirty minutes left, and he idly did the math for how many more would most likely be spat at him before the period ended, given the length of time it took to create a good spitball and the added seconds of waiting until the teacher was facing the blackboard. Their teacher, Mr. Olbura, stood facing the class at the moment, lecturing on the history of heroics. Izuku was dutifully jotting down anything he felt necessary to study at a later date, though there was admittedly little he didn’t already know about the subject. Come next week’s test he’d most assuredly get the highest or second highest grade in the class, as usual. Whichever score he received, Kacchan would receive the other.

He and Kacchan were always neck and neck for the best grades in the school. Not that anyone would acknowledge that fact. The most he was ever recognized for his hard work was the rare bit of praise from Ms Subishu, his Mathematics teacher. Even that was only a small smile and a quiet ‘good work’ as she handed back his test. Kacchan, on the other hand, was praised constantly, daily, vocally for how impressive his grades were, his wonderful work ethic, and how he was undoubtedly going to succeed at Yuuei and as a hero.

It smarted every time.

Yes, Kacchan was smart, possibly brilliant. Yes, he would without question become a powerful hero with a quirk as incredible as his. But what kind of hero? One who inspires people, makes them feel safe in his presence like All Might, the hero they both idolized? A hero people would trust to protect them and raise them up from the pits of grief and hopelessness? His body prickled with pain, years of burns and scars flaring to agonizing life for a moment at the thought of Kacchan’s ‘caring’ treatment.

Another spitball smacking into his head briefly brought him out of his reverie, and the not-so-quiet cackle of “Quirkless bitch” reached his ears, immediately followed by cruel snickering from two boys in the back of the classroom. Izuku glanced up to see Mr. Olbura flick his gaze towards their corner of the room. His eyes met Izuku’s for a fraction of a second, and Izuku felt another, almost audible crack of pain within himself as the only acknowledgement of his torment was a lackluster, “quiet down,” before Mr. Olbura turned away.

He could feel Kacchan’s gaze on his face from the other side of the classroom, and he dared to gaze back. He was met with a wolfish grin, all teeth and no warmth. Nothing like All Might’s smile. None of his kindness. Izuku shivered and looked away.

No, he would not be like All Might. Not in the way that truly mattered.

(TBC)

I hope you all liked this snippet! I actually have an outline for this oneshot and a pretty solid idea of how i want it to end, so hopefully I’ll be able to bust it out soon. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think of it so far!

[haikyuu-drabble]

Soulmate AU | Terushima x Reader

hi i saw this post on tumblr about a colorblind soulmate au loool and so i wrote this... technically part two is in the works but idk if im a fan of where its going but if u guys really want it then ill try to work on it haha

terushima x reader | Colorblind

word count: 2670

__________________________

Black and white. That’s what you always saw, and you hated every moment of it. You’d been wanting to meet your soulmate for years. Out of all your friends you’ve wanted it the most. Every time you thought you might have found the person, when you reached out to touch them, nothing changed. You still saw black and white.

These days, most, if not all, of your friends could see in color. You’d constantly have them describe the shades or hues of things. You’d ask them things like what color your eyes were or what their favorite color was. You’d basically torture yourself.

Your friend laughed, “Maybe you haven’t met your soulmate because they can tell how desperate you are.”

You grimaced, “You don’t really think that’s it, do you?”

“Of course not!” you friend laughed, “Can you just relax? It’ll come when it comes. The best things always come when you’re not looking for it.”

“Well, can you blame me? My curiosity is only going to get worse the older we get. The number of people who only see in black and white in our age range is only getting smaller.” You grumbled.

You friend rolled her eyes and patted you on the back, “Just focus on what’s important to you right now, and it’ll show up.”

“Fine.” you sighed.

When it was time for your next class, you bid your friend goodbye. It was a new semester which meant new classes which also meant new classmates. This could be your chance. This could be the class that you meet your soulmate and finally see in color.

When you walked in, you saw a load of girls surrounding a particular area of the classroom. You tried to peak over the crowd to see what they were crowding over. It was a male student with short cropped hair. You raised a brow wondering why everyone was so preoccupied with him.

You decided to sit far away from the commotion. The professor gave the typical syllabus lecture, and in the midst of it, he announced that there’d be a partner project. He explained, “I already assigned your partners, and I’ll post them on the board after lecture. Be sure to communicate what you want your project to be about. I’ll be asking for topics next week.”

You felt yourself getting excited. This could be it. This assigned partner for class could be your assigned partner for life. You felt yourself fidgeting from anticipation of the list.

When class finally ended, you overheard girls saying things like “I hope I get Terushima” or “how lucky would I be to get Terushima as a partner?”

Frankly, you had no idea who they were talking about, but you also didn’t really care to know.

You were in line waiting for your turn to search the list when you overheard someone calling your name. You tried to look over the heads that were blocking your view and saw the same boy who was surrounded by girls earlier. You sighed to yourself. Great.

You waved your hand, and he grinned at you. You could hear the girls whispers around you, “she’s so lucky” and “I really thought I was going to be his partner”.

He walked up to you with a smile, “So, should we trade numbers?”

“How about emails?” you suggested.

“Isn’t it easier to communicate through text?” he raised a brow.

“If I said that I didn’t have a phone, would you believe me?” you faked a grin.

Terushima laughed, “No, but for that joke. I’ll settle for your email.”

You grabbed a scrap of paper and wrote your email on it. He did the same, and you two ended up trading the papers. He smiled, “I’ll email you some topics later!”

You nodded in response and walked off to your next class. All you could think of was how much work you’d definitely be putting into this project. He just seemed like the type of guy who wouldn’t carry his weight.

Later that night, you were watching television at your apartment. Getting used to going back into the groove of school always tired you out. You could feel your mind drifting off when your phone pinged. It was an email from Terushima. You opened it to see what it was about, and in it were over ten topics. How… did he already come up with so many?

You read over them, and you realized that they were all really interesting things to make a project about. You picked the three that were most interesting to you and emailed him back with your response. Within moments, he’d already emailed you back and said you should meet up to narrow down which one you wanted to do. You agreed.

The next day, you went to the campus cafeteria. It was the agreed meeting place, but you forgot how busy the room got when it was lunch time. You opened your email and asked him if he found a spot yet. However, there was no response. You tried to look around for him in the giant room, and after about fifteen minutes of looking you finally found him sitting at a table in the corner. You approached the table and sat across from him. “I’m sorry. I got here earlier, but I was looking around for you the whole time. I emailed you asking you where you were, but yeah…” you veered off.

Terushima smirked at you, “If we traded numbers like I suggested yesterday, you wouldn’t have had so much trouble.”

“If I could see color then I also would’ve been able to spot you better too.” You muttered.

He tilted his head, “You can’t see color, either?”

“Either?” you asked, “You haven’t met your soulmate yet?”

He shook his head and smiled, “Thankfully, no.”

You raised a brow, “What do you mean by ‘thankfully’?”

He leaned towards you, “Life would be so boring if I found my soulmate. I don’t want to settle.”

You propped your head up with your hand, “Finding your soulmate isn’t settling down. It’s finding your partner. Your whole life changes, and you can finally see in color. How is that settling down at all?”

“You see it this way, and I see it that way.” Terushima shrugged and put his hand up for a high-five, “Kudos to us for still being free!”

You stared at his hand, “Should you really be that open to touching people if you don’t wanna find your soulmate?”

Terushima lowered his hand and laughed, “I think it’s safe to say that neither of us get along that well. I highly doubt we’re soulmates.”

“Right.” You rolled your eyes and opened your laptop to start working, “So, what topics do you think should narrow down on?”

You two talked for about an hour figuring out the pros and cons of the topics. It took longer than you expected because you guys had to refer back to the original list since some of the other topics weren’t as easily researched as others.

Before you two split up, he asked for your number, and you had to agree. It would be annoying if you continued to communicate only through email.

You were glad that you figured out what topic to write about because now you didn’t have to worry about it until your professor had approved the topic.

Coincidentally, you came to class early the day the topic was due. You grabbed your study materials out of your bag waited for class to start. Someone sat down next to you, and you saw Terushima smiling at you, “So, did prof approve our project?”

“He said that he’s going to go over it a couple minutes before class ends.” You answered.

The rest of the class started flocking in, and that’s when the normal swarming of girls approached Terushima. You sighed and collected your things. Terushima turned to you, “I thought you said we still have to turn in our topic. Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry. I need a good grade, too. I’m not leaving.” You explained.

You moved away from the crowd, a couple rows in front of your original seat. It was much too early to deal with such a loud crowd.

Near the end of class, the professor explained that he was finally going to approve topics, and as soon as you were approved, you were free to leave. Since you were sitting near the front, you were one of the first people he checked. You quickly got his approval and texted Terushima the news. 

As soon as you packed your things and left the classroom, someone called your name from behind you. You turned around and saw Terushima chasing after you. Once he caught up with you, he asked, “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Well, he approved of our topic, and I texted you.” you held up your phone.

He checked his phone and saw the message, “Oh. I didn’t realize.”

“That’s because you were too distracted with the girls crowding around you.” You joked, “Maybe if you met your soulmate, you wouldn’t be so distracted.”

Terushima had a smile on his face, “Well, if you look at that. ‘Ms. Serious’ has jokes.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, “It comes up on occasion.”

“Well, I know that now.” Terushima beamed, “So, where’s your next class?”

“I don’t have one actually. I’m done for the day.” You answered.

“Me either! Let’s get hangout” he invited.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of busy.” You veered.

You looked at his face and saw the slight disappointment. There was a part of you that wanted to give in, “But… I guess I can squeeze you into my busy schedule.”

Terushima grinned, “Great! I know the best place with the best bread!”

When you two got to the bakery, you grabbed some pastries. Terushima was ahead of you at the cash register, and you put your bread next to his, “I’ll pay for his food too.”

Terushima was taken aback, “What’s this about?”

You took out your wallet, “I feel bad since you found all the topics for the assignment. It had to have taken a lot of time because you got so many. So, consider this as my payback.”

You grabbed your bread and headed to a table to sit at. While eating, you got to know Terushima a little bit better. You asked, “Holdup. You played volleyball?”

“Played?” he repeated, “I still play! I’m on the school’s team.”

“How come I never noticed you, then?” you asked.

Terushima shrugged, “Maybe you just couldn’t believe such a perfect guy could exist.”

“Sure. That’s what it is.” You scoffed.

Once you finished eating, Terushima walked you to the station. Before leaving, you asked, “Next time, let’s meet up to research some sources.”

“I’m down.” Terushima grinned.

You planned to meet with the next couple of days, and after he walked you walked to the subway. You looked back one more time and saw that he was still looking at you. When he noticed you looking, he grinned and waved at you energetically. You couldn’t help but smile and wave back at him.

On the train, you couldn’t help but think that Terushima was an enigma. He was a flirt. That’s for sure, but it was strange. You thought with his direct way of speaking, you would have been able to get a grasp on him, but trying to see what he was actually feeling was more difficult thank you thought. One thing you did realize was that you got along with him more than you would ever admit.

The next day, you met up with your friend, Tendou. He hadn’t met his soulmate either, but you figured out quite early that you weren’t each other’s soulmate. You’d accidentally tripped, and he was quick to catch you. When there was no difference in your vision, you were disappointed. Sure, Tendou was a very eccentric person, but he was sweet and fun. But over time, you realized it was much better that you two were just friends. 

You had told him about Terushima and the group project. Tendou stuck up a finger, “That’s the wild guy on the volleyball team, right?”

“Am I the only person who didn’t know he played for the school?” you asked.

Tendou shrugged, “Hard to say. I used to play so maybe that’s why I took notice.”

“Maybe.” You sighed.

“Well, what’s your opinion of him?” Tendou got straight to the point, “You like him or something?”

You felt your face heat up, “T-Tendou!”

Tendou raised his brows, “That’s an interesting reaction.”

“No!” you denied, “It’s not even a reaction.”

“If you say so.” Tendou snorted.

You threw your hands up, “Let’s just change the subject!”

“Fine.” Tendou shrugged again, “Oh yeah! I’m starting a manga!”

“Again?” you laughed, “Please tell me you have better ideas than last time.”

The next day, you went to the library, and you texted Terushima asking where he was. He quickly replied, “I’ll come and get you.”

Within a couple of moments, you saw him waving at you, and you walked up to him. He whispered, “I already got started and found a few references.”

Once you got to the table, you saw there were a some of books and printouts. You grabbed a book and noticed that he’d even already bookmarked a couple of pages. You asked, “How long have you been here for?”

“I’m not really sure.” He answered, “I just came here after my class. I figured I might as well since I had nothing else to do.”

“Terushima, if you keep this up, I’m going to go bankrupt from buying you those hotdog breads.”

“I wouldn’t mind that actually.” He snickered.

He sat down in his seat, and you took the spot next to him. You opened your laptop and started looking for own searches to add to the collection. You knew that this class was going to be a lot of work, but you didn’t realize that it was going to be as much as it was. You were thankful that you had Terushima as a partner to complete the paper and presentation.

While reading an article, Terushima called for your attention, “Can you look at this article, and tell me if it’s usable for the paper?”

You tilted your chair to see his laptop screen a bit better. You were reading the part that he highlighted when you felt your chair start to dangerously lean over more. You quickly gasped, but Terushima grabbed your arm and caught you and pushed your chair back on the ground. Suddenly there was a bright flash of light. You flinched from it and closed your eyes. “Are you alright?” Terushima laughed, “Good thing I caught you. You really would have been a goner.”

You rubbed your eyes, and when you opened them, things looked very different. You could see color. Does that mean…?

In almost a breath, you asked, “Do you… see that?”

“See what?” Terushima laughed, “Your life flash before your eyes?”

“No! The—” You looked over at him, and you saw his golden locks. Terushima was blond. His eyes were a soft almond color, and his skin had a slight tan to it. He was... beautiful.

He was looking at you with a confused look, and your heart dropped. You could tell by his expression that he wasn’t seeing what you saw. He wasn’t seeing in color. You knew that could only mean one thing. Terushima was your soulmate, but... you weren’t his.

[maxineswritingcenter]

Beauty and the Beast AU - Demon!Dean Winchester

We'll see how this goes! I'm using she/her pronouns for this fic, just to keep it like the original story.

Characters (As they appear): Fem!reader, reader’s father, Gabriel, Metatron, Michael, Zachariah, Demon!Dean

Summary: You are seen as the oddball around town, you're into books and other nerdy things that the small town you were raised in just don't get. You dream of going on the road and having adventures, but it's unlikely you can because you don't have a lot of money. Your father runs a house renovating business and goes to a job in the spooky abandoned house in the woods. You see where I'm going from here.

-------------------------------------------------

Legend tells of of a town, just like one you may know. There was a hero known through out the land for his selflessness and his righteousness. But in times of great peril he sought help from a dark force to go against a greater evil, Cain. With the help of an unlikely accomplice, the hero took the Mark of Cain. The Mark turned our hero into a dangerous foe, scaring family and friends with his unpredictability. But our hero lost the fight against the evil Metatron and died. In a turn of events our hero rose from the grave, but he was not the same person. His eyes black as night and powers beyond anything anyone had ever seen. He began to burn and pillage anything he could find in the name of destruction. His friends and family chased him down into an abandoned house in the woods. With the help of divine intervention everyone in the house was trapped. As our hero lives with the Mark he will fall deeper and deeper into the darkness, farther from his humanity. His brother has a cure, but fears what our hero is capable of. Our hero hides alone in the house, isolating himself from those he cared for most. Only true love could tame him and bring back his humanity. But who could ever love a beast?

-

Did I think I was still going to be in this tiny town after I graduated college? No. But here I was. In the same tiny room, in the same tiny house, in the same tiny town. I suppose it would have to do until I found a job I didn't despise and made enough money doing side jobs so I could leave this place. My father and I shared this tiny house. One bedroom, one bathroom, one basement. I was given the office space in the house for my room. It was small and crowded, but I had to say it had its perks. Well, more singular: perk. One entire wall was bookshelves to house my many, many books. Majority fiction. If I couldn't have adventures on my own, I would join other characters on theirs.

I had woken up, fifteen minutes before my alarm, as usual. My dad said it was from stress, but I wasn't really stressed too much. Not really. The only thing that stressed me out was the fact that I was going into town for the farmer’s market and I wanted to avoid two certain individuals. I got dressed, I had been going for a more boho vibe lately, so today it was a long, floral skirt, black T-shirt, and some slip on sneakers. It was still warm out so I wanted to take advantage of it. Late September weather was unpredictable. The local weather station was talking about snow in the coming weeks and I really wasn't prepared for that to start.

I grabbed my large flannel bag and made my way too the kitchen. Dad was leaning against the counter, reading the local paper.

"Morning, pops." I called, "Any spicy gossip?" Small towns meant gossip was put into the newspaper, which I couldn't decide was terrible or not considering everyone knew about it anyway.

"Oh you bet, there's two sections worth of business about the monkshood going missing all over town. Which... I don't see how that's relevant." He said, taking a gulp from his coffee.

"Sounds like the resident werewolf was having none of it." I joked. Then something caught my eye, cupcakes on the counter.

"Oh did someone get a special delivery?" I winked, bumping hips with him. His face went red, he started scratching his beard to distract himself.

"Uh na- oh yeah. Mrs. Barber dropped them off this morning. Said she had some left over from the bake sale at the high school." He lied.

"It's Ms. Barber, dad. And she definitely has a thing for you. Why don't you give her a wink every once in a while?" I said, leaning over and taking one from the tray.

"Oh I don't know..." He said. Ever since mom left us, he's been nervous about getting back into the dating scene.

"Just sayin'." I shrugged and made my way out the door.

"What's the cupcake for? It's 10am?" He called as I shut the door. The cupcake was for our mail man. The man had an incredible sweet tooth. He was a huge patron of the bakery. And right on time, here came the mail truck. The only mail truck at our post office.

"Hey Gabe!" I smiled as he parked. He got out, smoothing back his brown hair. He had a smile that was contagious.

"Hey there, (Y/N). Is that for me?" He pointed to the cupcake in my hand.

"Of course, anything for my favorite messenger." He chuckled, taking it and replacing my empty hand with our mail.

"You spoil me." He smiled and took a bite. "So uh, where ya off too?" He leaned against the front end.

"Farmer's market and the library."

"So veggies and the same book you always get?" He said, licking his fingers of frosting.

"I don't need your judgement." I rolled my eyes, starting to make my way towards town.

"Thanks again!" He said, getting into his truck and continuing on his route.

I waved back, making my way past the neighboring houses and into the heart of town. The whole town was out and about. Everyone I passed seemed to look and whisper, it was the reality we lived in. I was the girl whose mom left without a trace. I was the girl who lived in her own little world of books and fantasies. I was different and odd compared to everyone else. But that was okay... Or at least that's what I keep telling myself.

The main Street was blocked off for the market. I crossed the street and pushed open the door to the library. It was a small shop, there were a few shelves and a register. In the back corner was a reading nook with a soft recliner chair that I knew very well and probably had my butt print in it. After I set my last read in the return box, I made my way towards the section I was looking for. The book had no title and no author, just a single rose on the front. I think that's what drew me to it. It was a story about a guy and girl who meet and she doesn't realize that he is her true love. I could quote this book, it was my favorite. Far off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise. I held it close to me and moved towards the front where the librarian sat. He was an older man, a little odd looking but didn't seem like he could do any harm. He had told me his name was Met. A little strange but who was I to judge. He was hunched over on the desk, looking down through the glasses at the end of his nose. Met said he had read every book in the library more that 5 times which is why I think we got along.

"Good morning, Met." I greeted him, setting the book and my library card on the counter.

"That book again?" He said, not even looking up from his book.

"I can't help it. It's my favorite." I grinned, I couldn't wait to get my hands on it again.

"You know what? Just keep it. No charge." He said, looking up at me with a knowing look in his eyes.

"What? No, I couldnt-" I started. I hated that I was refusing but I just couldn't take it.

"I insist. You've read that book more than I have, which is saying something. I know you'll give it a good home." He smiled. I took the book and hugged it close.

"Thank you, thank you so much." I gushed, carefully sliding the book in my bag, "I'll see you around!" He waved as I left the shop, a new spring in my step.

-

There were the usual crowd in the market. The baker, the various farmers and Crafters. I made my way, stall to stall, chatting and picking up a few things. I preferred shopping this way, I could help out the community and get fresh produce, win win. The only issue was I accidentally made eye contact with the town pretty boy, Michael and his goon Zach.

Michael was the town hero. He was a good hunter and all around charmer. He was tall, dark, and handsome. Meaning every girl in town was in love with him. Except me, considering that I think getting by on your looks and being macho wouldn't be a great match for me, who finds more attraction in personality and, well, a brain. He and his goon Zach were odd friends, considering Zach looked like he was old enough to be Michael's father. Michael had this odd obsession with the fact that I wasn't obsessed with him. I had heard from the rumor mill that he had a crush on me and no thank you.

I quickly darted through the crowd, hoping he couldn't follow. I circled back towards my house. But as soon as I made it to the drive way:

"Hello, (Y/N)." Michael said, he was laying on the charm early this time. He was also, right behind me. I turned, holding onto my bag.

"Hello, Michael." I smiled stiffly. If I kept things short, maybe he would go away.

"Listen, I was thinking that we should go back to my place and talk. I havea few things I would like to dicuss." I clicked my tongue, stepping away from him.

"Maybe another time. I have to help my dad with a few things."

"Heh, that guy needs all the help he can get!" Zach laughed.

"Hey! Don't talk about my father like that!" I shouted, rolling up my sleeves to punch this dick a new one when Michael stepped forward and punched Zach in the shoulder, "Yeah, don't talk about her father that way!" He turned back to me, "Now, I know how you feel about me."

I raised an eyebrow, "You could not possibly have a clue." I continued, "Listen, I gotta go, nice talking to you, bye!" I hurried inside, making sure to lock the door behind me. I set my bag on the counter, carefully placing items in their places when I spotted a note on the counter.

Gone to the old house in the woods. Be home for dinner.

Love Dad.

Dad renovated old houses and made them new. He was just the run of the mill Property Brother, without the twin and real estate practice. The house he was referring to was this huge mansion that was in the woods. It used to be the home of this really rich guy back in colonial times, like pre-America. The guy never had any kids so it was just left to be abandoned and rot. Some people said it was haunted, but who would want to haunt that place? It was falling apart.

I shrugged and went about my day as usual. I made a snack from the delicious apples I got, read a little, tidied up around the house, and made dinner. But... Dad was late. Sure, he had been home late before but never this late. A hour turned into hours. I tried his cell phone but it just went to voice mail each time. So there I was anxiously sitting at the table, my foot about to wear a hole in the carpet from how much it was shaking. I just kept refreshing my messages, hoping that he would text me saying he was late or stuck somewhere.

"That's it." I stood up and gathered my things. I shoved the first aid kit, my phone, and a few other things in my bag before making my way to the garage. It was a two car garage, one spot for dad's work truck and another for my 1999 Thunderbird, a car that definitely did not live up to its name. I started the car, opened the garage and left, almost not pausing to close it.

It was just getting to be dusk, the sky was just beginning to fade to night when I got to the house. When I pulled up the long, winding driveway, far off the road, I saw dad's truck. I opened my door and looked around the car. Maybe he could have slipped and knocked himself out.

"Dad?" I called, looking around. His took box wasn't in the passenger seat, meaning he was probably inside. Holding my bag tightly by the strap I got closer. In the time it had taken to get here, it had chilled significantly. I really should have grabbed a jacket. The house was... Menacing to say the least. The white faded paint was chipping off, the columns on the front porch were near collapse. The wooden stairs creaked as I made my way up to the ajar door.

"Hello?" I called, peaking me head inside. I used my phone flashlight to look around. There was graffiti on the walls from kids who really should take an art class. Their pentagrams could use some work. There was stuff strewn all over. Lots of papers and other things.

"Dad?" I called again but cursed myself when I heard creaking. I am literally that girl in every horror movie. Let's go to the haunted house and call out to someone and then get straight up murdered. I am literally so stupid. I silently crept closer to the stairs, they probably led down to the basement.

"(Y/N)?" I heard dad's voice echo from below.

"Dad!" I called back, rushing down the stairs. As I got lower, the atmosphere seemed to change from a old house to almost a bunker. Metal lined the stair case as I went down further and further.

When I made it to the bottom I looked around in shock. This place was practically brand new. Hardwood floors, nick knacks lining the shelves. There was a kitchenette in the corner with a white marble island.

"(Y/N)!" Dad called again, the sound coming from a narrow hall that led to a bookshelf. I could hear my dad calling from behind it.

"Grab a book!" He shouted.

"A book? What does that-" I started grabbing books, pushing them away to see a door but instead, when I grabbed a copy of Arabian Nights there was a low groan from the wall. I took a step back as the wall swung back to reveal a secret room. It was a circular concrete room and as soon as I walked in goosebumps rose on my arms. Dad was tied to a chair in the middle of the room.

"Dad..." I ran up to him, "Oh thank God you're alright! What happened? Who did this?" I said, moving around him to get at the ropes.

"We gotta get out of here, kid, this guy isn't human. He'll kill us both." He whispered. What kind of an asshole takes a nice guy like my dad and locks him up? A psycho, that's who. My dad coughed, it was wet and loud and too much for my liking.

"God, it's freezing in here, you're going to get sick." I said, finally starting to loosen the ropes.

"Well, well...." I froze at the new voice. It was deep and cocky sounding, "Look what the cat dragged in." I stood up to face this guy. He was just Out of view of the light, all I could see were his nose and the smirk on his face. He was wearing a red button down, dark jeans and boots.

"Look, I don't know who you are or what you want but we don't have anything to give. Please, he's getting sick, you can't keep him here." I pleaded, holding my dad's shoulder to keep up this confidence I was trying to portray.

"What he deserves, breaking into my place, snooping around." The stranger said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He was just doing his job, this house is abandoned!" I shouted, taking a step forward.

"Baby, please..." Dad whispered urgently, "Just go, it's me he wants, don't let yourself get wrapped up in this."

"I can't leave you here, I won't." I said, crouching down and holding his hands. They were so cold and I could feel him shaking. Dad's eyes were so dull, his teeth were chattering.

Rage built up in my chest as I stood to meet the stranger again.

"Who do you think you are, keeping him here like this?" I spat, "Come into the light, coward."

"(Y/N)!" My dad shouted in a warning voice. The stranger only chuckled and shook his head. He stood up from where he was leaning on the door frame and took a step forward. My jaw tightened and my eyes widened. The only thing I could focus on was his eyes. They were pitch black. No pupil, no Iris, just black. I quickly recovered my glare and stood my ground, even as he came close to me. He smelled off, like rotten eggs. On his arm there was a strange mark that seemed to glow red. In his hand he held a odd weapon. It was the jaw bone of some type of animal attached to a handle. There were even teeth still attached.

"And what do you intend to do with that? Club me until it breaks?" I smirked, again that confidence I was trying to portray. But was intimidation the right choice in this situation? I didn't care. He seemed like another smug asshole that could get whatever he wanted from his looks whoever or whatever he was.

He hummed under his breath, lifting the weapon to his open palm. He dragged it down, and I watched it slice open his palm. But as soon as blood appeared from the cut, it disappeared as if it healed itself.

And confidence gone.

"Look, sweetheart, this isn't about you. But you're doing a number on my patience. So get the hell out." He motioned to the door.

I looked at the door, then back to my father. I couldn't leave him here. No matter how much this guy scared me. I had no other choice.

"Let my dad go, I'll take his place." I said quickly, "Do whatever you want, just let him go."

"No! I won't let you do this." Dad said, leaning forward to struggle.

"I won't let you rot down here. Let me do this." I couldn't look at him in the eye.

The stranger took my chin in his hand, making me meet his eyes, the black void of nothingness. It made me think of death and despair.

"You sure about this?" He asked, he lowered his voice, "You sure you want to take his place?"

I nodded, "Please, let him go." I whispered, my voice was on the verge of shaking. The stranger grinned and let go of my face. He went around my dad with the weapon, in a quick slice, the ropes fell away. He grabbed my dad by the shirt, lifting him from the seat and pulling him to the door.

"Don't hurt him!" I shouted.

"I'll come back for you, (Y/N), I'll get help!" Dad called, his voice fading as the hidden door shut behind them.

Oh God...

I slowly sat on the chair, the dread setting in.

"What have I done?"

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NEW SERIES - You will never guess how it ends. 

Reblog if you liked it, likes work too.

Read part 2 here!

Requests are open and the fandoms I write for are listen in the bio. 

Taglist: (shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged)

@happy-little-marvel

@hobby27

@somebodyto-love

@beanie-beebo 

[a-damson-in-distress]

The Protégé 3

Pairing: MadaSaku

Plot: In search of a new cellist for his prestigious orchestra, an infamously feared maestro stumbles upon a young rising star.

Note: I pray to Baby Jesus that none of you were ever in an orchestra, because I have no idea if what Madara says towards the end sounds even remotely like conductor-talk. I do still know what a bunch of the terms mean form my time as a pianist, but again, I was never in an orchestra and I have no idea if a conductor would use them this way. Also, I kind of sort of perpetuated myself in this chapter, or at least my office number lol. 3.201 is the number of my own office at university and the way Madara describes it (”all the rooms are labelled” etc) is a literal word-for-word copy of how I describe the way to my office when I’ve got people coming in for an appointment. 

And last but not least, here are the links to the pieces mentioned in the chapter: Brian Tyler - Sleight of Hand and Ludovico Einaudi - The Taranta Project . Introductio ad Regnum Tarantulae, Choros, and Taranta are my personal favourites of Einaudi’s album, but I posted a link to the entire album, because it is A.MA.ZINGGGG. If you only want to check out the three songs mentioned, you should search for the songs separately though instead of listening to the album version I posted above, because some of the recordings on the album are live versions and the studio recordings simply sound better.

I’m suuuuuuuuuuuuuper excited to hear your opinion on this chapter as well as the music. None of my friends or family like the sort of music that I incorporate in this story, so I’m incredibly excited to share these pieces with you and anyway asoiwjefoijsdf so yeah, bye.

Sakura was standing in front of the mirror in her hotel room scrutinising her seventh outfit. She was supposed to be at Mr Uchiha’s office at the New National Theatre in two hours, and she had already spent the last 45 minutes deciding what to wear. She couldn’t for the life of her come up with a decent look, since the majority of her wardrobe was very girly, all bright colours, soft lace, and flower prints. Given her fashion sense – or lack thereof, Sakura never thought that she would ever regret not owning a lot of stylish and sleek pieces. In the past, she never felt the need to buy formal and impressionable clothing, since the orchestra provided that for her whenever they were required to dress a certain way for public appearances. But now, Sakura would kill for a nice pant suit, or at least a blouse that didn’t have this person is clearly colour blind written all over it.

Groaning in frustration, the young cellist slipped out of her pastel pink dress and turned to the myriad of clothes strewn across her bed. Her gaze landed on a white shirt her friends had gifted her when she was sixteen years old, right after winning the first Grand Prize at the Rostropovitch Cello Competition. The shirt showed a picture of her instrument in the middle with the words Cello: Everyone Else Is Accompaniment below it. Sakura smiled at the memory. She loved that shirt, and she loved all of her other clothes as well. She felt most comfortable in dresses and skirts and pretty little tops with unicorns and ice cream cones and flowers on them.

But she couldn’t turn up to a meeting with one of the world’s greatest conductors looking like she burped sunshine and farted rainbows.

As she went through her pieces of clothing looking for something more mature or at least subtler, Sakura thought back to the email Mr Uchiha had sent her two weeks ago. He always seemed so poised and mature and suave, even in his correspondence. In the maestro’s presence – physical or digital – Sakura always felt like a naïve little schoolgirl asking her strict and intimidating headmaster for directions to the cafeteria. Thinking back to what she had written, she felt incredibly stupid for asking him what to do next. But then his reply came through, and Sakura couldn’t have been happier.

 Dear Ms Haruno,

at the risk of sounding smug, I have to say you made the right decision. But then again, I expected nothing less from you. As for what happens next – there’s no need to worry, I will take of everything for you. Allow me to lead the way. I am your maestro now, after all.

 Sincerely,

Madara Uchiha

 Sakura got his reply at 1:20 in the morning and naturally, she was so over the moon she didn’t get a wink of sleep that night. Luckily, the following days went by in a blur. She had to sign lots of paperwork for Kyoto Concert Hall, find a new tenant for her flat, answer a bunch of emails from a bunch of strangers from the New National Theatre, go to a total of four farewell-parties organised by her former orchestra’s musicians, and finally say goodbye to her beloved Maestro Senju.

In the meantime, Mr Uchiha had booked her a flight to Tokyo and a hotel room in which she was free to stay for a few weeks while looking for a place to live in the capital city.

Now, two weeks later, Sakura was about to sign the contract that would change her life.

But first, she needed to change her outfit.

Madara saw her walk up the grand staircase, eyes wide with wonder, soaking up the modern and sleek architecture of the New National Theatre. The architect had worked with glass a lot and had installed windows and glass walls wherever he could, so the entire building was bathed in a natural light.  Everything was understated and subtle, yet tasteful and aesthetic at the same time – all pastel colours and typical Japanese minimalism.

Amidst the rather chiselled, sophisticated, and mature look of the theatre, the young cellist stood out like a sore thumb with her bubblegum-pink hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, her white camisole top with lace applications, and the dark-green culotte pants, which she tied above her waist with a pretty little bow.

Madara decided to give her another moment to savour the view while he retreated to his office. He glanced at his watch and noted with satisfaction that she was over-punctual. She still had fifteen minutes to spare before their scheduled meeting, which gave him another fifteen minutes to force all the inappropriate teasing he thought of when he saw her to the back of his mind. Though Madara had thoroughly enjoyed rattling Ms Haruno during their previous encounter, he had to be absolutely professional now – this time he was in his territory, after all, and he had a reputation to uphold. Namely that of a tough and relentless hard-ass conductor, who didn’t feel a thing at the sight of some young musician’s awe-struck eyes staring up at him as if he were her personal god and saviour.

The maestro took a seat at his desk, turned on his speakers, and opened the playlist he created for the upcoming tour. Clicking on the desired music file, he let the sound of Ludovico Einaudi’s Taranta envelop his office as he started jotting down notes on the corresponding sheet music.

Einaudi’s Taranta Project was one of the more experimental parts of the repertoire he was planning for the tour. Frankly, he would not have even included it if Ms Haruno had not agreed to join his ensemble. The compositions Madara chose featured a strong focus on strings, and he simply couldn’t imagine his orchestra performing such avant-garde pieces without a cellist who showed the same level of passion and eagerness to experiment as the composer himself.

The conductor was torn from his thoughts when he heard a knock on his office door. He lowered the volume of the song to a barely audible minimum and summoned her in.

Madara watched his principal cellist open the door and hesitantly step into the room. Her gaze roamed around his spacious office for a second before resting on him.

“Ms Haruno, welcome to Tokyo,” he said as he walked around his desk to approach her.

The maestro noted another blush tainting her cheeks before she stretched out her hand to shake his. “Thank you, Mr Uchiha. You have no idea how excited I am to be here.”

As he gestured for her to take a seat on the grey leather sofa, Madara heard her ask, “That was from The Taranta Project, wasn’t it? Is Einaudi going to be part of our tour programme?” Madara leaned back in the armchair to Sakura’s right and crossed one leg over the other. “That depends. How do you feel about opening with Choros?” He watched her eyes sparkle with excitement.

“I love that idea. But if you decide to perform the entire album, we could open with Introductio and just stick to Einaudi’s original order. It’s softer than Choros and would also set a better mood for Taranta. Though Choros would be more appropriate if you want to go with a darker, more mature concert.”

Madara narrowed his eyes and stared at the pinkette with a pensive gaze. How could someone so seemingly shy and unobtrusive hide so much excitement, passion, and energy? The way her eyes lit up at the mention of Einaudi’s pieces and the way she enthusiastically talked about the things she loved made Madara decide to ask her about her opinion more often. When she realised he wasn’t answering, her eyes widened in shock and she quickly clasped a hand over her mouth, before lowering it just enough to allow herself to speak. “I’m so sorry, Mr Uchiha. I didn’t mean to criticise your choices or tell you what to do. I-I just… got carried away with the excitement and everything,” she stammered, fixing her gaze on her lap before letting out a shaky breath. “I’m really nervous, in case you didn’t realise.”

The maestro studied the cellist for another moment, before murmuring, “Why are you nervous, Ms Haruno?”

She slowly raised her head again to look at him, and Madara had to actively restrain himself from staring at her teeth nervously biting her bottom lip. Instead, he watched her pull a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

“Because… it’s you,” she breathed weakly.

Well, that piqued his interest.

“Care to elaborate, Ms Haruno?”

The young cellist turned her gaze away from him, now resting on her lap again where she was watching her fingers play with the ends of the ribbon she tied above her waist. “Well… it’s probably silly to you, but you’re… you’re sort of my favourite conductor and a huge role model and just – I don’t know, being in the same room with you freaks me out, let alone the thought of playing in your orchestra. Not – not freak out in a bad way,” she fixed him with a frantic gaze, hands waving in front of her in defence, “I’m not saying I’m so freaked out I can’t perform in your presence, just like – you know, a nervous and excited sort of freak out, the sort that makes you annoyingly self-conscious and turns you into a giant perfectionist, because you desperately want to please your idol, and so…,” Sakura let out a long sigh and turned her head away in embarrassment, before laughing anxiously, “and now I need to stop rambling. Anyway, I’m sorry if I stepped on your toes with my suggestions about Einaudi’s album.”

As soon as she stopped talking and started biting her lip again instead, Madara had to remind himself to keep calm. He found her adorable in a harmless sort of way when she was nervous and flustered, but when she was biting her lip, she instantly became a danger to his sanity and his firm conviction that hooking up with one of his orchestra’s musicians was a terrible idea.

The raven-haired conductor cleared his throat to force himself out of his inappropriate line of thought and asserted, “You have nothing to worry about, Ms Haruno. I wasn’t offended by your remarks in the slightest. To be honest, I was simply astonished at first, since none of my musicians usually dare to speak their mind or give me suggestions on anything. It was a pleasant surprise, though. I think I should ask for your opinion more often.”

The pinkette’s shoulders visibly relaxed as her lips spread into a grateful smile, and Madara noted with satisfaction that he was the put who put it there.

“Now, before you meet with our lawyer to sign the contract, I wanted to give you the chance to talk things through, answer any questions you might have. I believe you had enough time to read through it all. Was there anything you’d like to discuss with me?”

“Um, yes, actually. Though not so much about the contract per se, that was probably the most precise contract ever drafted. But um,” he watched Ms Haruno lick her lips with such a fascination as if he were witnessing the birth of Jesus Christ himself, “I did have a few questions about the repertoire and the pieces you’re considering for the tour. I noticed there were a few compositions for a string quartet with a heavy focus on the cello, even some cello solos. I was just wondering if it’s maybe a bit early for me to be featured so heavily. I am the youngest member of your ensemble, after all, with the least amount of experience. I’m basically a rookie compared to your other musicians.”

“Let me assure you, Ms Haruno, that you are by no means a rookie in my orchestra. None of my musicians think that, especially not me. And I would never assign you anything if I wasn’t absolutely certain you could rise up to it.”

The doubtful look in her eyes didn’t waver. “I believe you, and I really appreciate your confidence in me. It’s just – I’m worried that I might get off on the wrong foot with the others if I get so much attention right from the beginning. Maestro Senju didn’t give me a solo piece until I was with the orchestra for a year, and even then, some people got really jealous and upset. I just want a smooth start without any bad blood.”

Of course, Madara mused, he sensed there was a deeper reason behind her uncertainty. He knew that she knew how good she was and that she could perform those solo pieces in her sleep. Her hesitance had nothing to do with her doubting her musical prowess, but everything to do with her kind disposition, almost too kind for something so competitive and cut-throat as Japan’s classical music scene.

Madara decided then that it was good he had taken such a liking to her. The cellist was right – if she wasn’t careful, his musicians would eat her for breakfast. Lucky for her, the big bad wolf of a conductor harboured a teeny-tiny musical crush on her.

“Ms Haruno, you are the only person in my ensemble that I have personally pursued. Everybody else had to audition, but not you, because that’s just how good you are. I’m not going to leave you unnoticed in the background, that would be a waste of and insult to your talent. That being said, the tour programme isn’t finalised yet, so we can talk about changing bits and pieces, depending on how well our rehearsals go. But if I’m satisfied with your performance, you will take centre stage. And if anybody has a problem with that,” Madara was just about to finish his sentence with they can come to me but refrained from doing so when he realised how inappropriately possessive it sounded. “Then you should just be happy about the fact that older and more experienced musicians feel so threatened by someone so young. If anything, their jealousy is a compliment. Trust me, knowing you’re better than others is a great confidence boost,” the conductor added with a smug grin.

Her melodious laughter echoed through his office which only made his smirk widen. When she calmed down, the pink-haired musician started biting her lip again, this time probably to stop herself from grinning. After another moment where Madara allowed himself to simply enjoy her carefree happiness, he added with gentle encouragement, “Seriously, Ms Haruno, don’t worry about what others think of you. Our profession was and always will be highly competitive, and you will always make enemies no matter how kind you are or how many cookies you bake for your colleagues. Don’t ever allow other people’s inferiority complex to rain on your parade.” Madara looked at her intently, his eyes softening as he murmured, “You’re too good for that.”

A deep blush spread across her face, and her doe-like eyes stared up at him with that look of wonder and admiration that made him want to shower her with compliments, if only she would keep looking at him that way. If he hadn’t known any better, Madara could have sworn her gaze rested on his lips for a split second before meeting his eyes again.

The maestro had to physically force himself to look away. It got increasingly difficult to remain professional with all the adorable blushing and fidgeting. Here he was, a 39-year-old man who loved old Scotch, vintage cars, self-assured women, and everything else that was ripe and mature in this world. And yet this young naïve little thing who was so nervous she was basically shaking in his presence, staring up at him like a lost lamb looking for shelter, stirred up a protective instinct in him he never knew he had.

Change of subject, Madara reminded himself. Right fucking now.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about, Ms Haruno?”

Please say no, please say no, please say no, please say –

“Yes.”

Fuck.

The conductor raised an expectant eyebrow while forcing his expression to relax in an effort to mask his internal struggle. He wanted her to stay for all the wrong reasons, so he needed her to leave for all the right ones.

“About your list of rules,” Sakura started off hesitantly.

Dear God, please don’t mention rule number five.

The fingers of Madara’s right hand dug into the armrest as he prepared himself for the worst.

“There was this one part where it said that you as the conductor choose our concert outfits. I was just wondering what fabric the clothes were made of. Because Maestro Senju tried it with velvet pant suits once and we all got a horrible rash, supposedly because of some chemicals they used to dye the fabric. I know it’s silly and fabrics should be the least of your worries, but honestly, the rash was so annoying we had serious trouble concentrating on our performance. So I just wanted to make sure the clothes are… you know, normal.”

Madara released a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, and his fingers relaxed their grip on the leather of the armrest.

“I don’t know what fabric they’re made of, but I know it’s not velvet, and I know nobody has ever gotten a rash or experienced any other bad reactions. But don’t worry, everybody wears their concert outfits for the dress rehearsal, so should you feel uncomfortable in any way, we can still make adjustments before the actual concert.”

A small smile spread across her lips, and she nodded in finality. “Great, thank you. Then that would be all for my part.”

He replied with a nod of his own and stood up from his armchair. As Madara lead the cellist to his office door, he reminded her of her next appointment, “You’ll see our lawyer Mr Hatake next. He’ll go through the contract with you and answer any legal questions you might have. His office is on the third floor, in the Legal Department, room number 3.201. All the rooms are labelled and have door signs, so you really can’t miss him.”

The pinkette shot him another grateful smile. Madara offered his hand and when she took it, he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Welcome to the jungle, Ms Haruno.”

The conductor opened the door of his office and sent her away with a devilish grin.

“So you’re my boyfriend’s replacement, huh?”

Sakura looked up from her sheet music and was met with the face of a gorgeous blonde staring her down with a haughty look.

“Excuse me?”

Sakura took in the person in front of her and realised then she was also holding a cello case. The blonde stepped closer and took a seat right next to her.

“Shikamaru Nara. He was our principal cellist,” the musician explained while opening her case.

“Oh,” it dawned on Sakura. Of course. Some of her former orchestra’s musicians had hinted that the only reason Maestro Uchiha was able to take on a new cellist was because he kicked out the last one.

“You must hate me now, too, huh?” Sakura shot her fellow cellist a half-hearted apologetic smile.

The blonde to her left scoffed. “Why would I hate you?”

“Because I took away your boyfriend’s seat in the orchestra. You could have still played together.”

“Please,” the woman made a dismissive gesture with her hand, “that idiot was never coming back.”

Sakura looked at her incredulously and prodded, “So you don’t hate me?”

The blonde cellist shot her an amused grin, which immediately released some of the tension Sakura was feeling. “I don’t hate you, silly. It’s not like you were actively involved in getting him kicked out. And the Maestro was bound to replace him at some point. So relax, no hard feelings.”

The pinkette laughed awkwardly before offering her hand. “I’m Sakura Haruno. It’s nice to finally meet another cellist of the ensemble.”

A smile tugged on the blonde’s lips as she shook her hand. “I’m Temari Sabakuno. Welcome to Tokyo.”

“Thanks. By the way, what did you mean with your boyfriend wasn’t coming back? I assume every musician would fight tooth and nail for a place in Maestro Uchiha’s orchestra.”

“Not this idiot of a musician,” Temari scoffed while adjusting her endpin. “To be honest, we were kind of hoping to get caught. We were both tired of sneaking around, and Shikamaru was already looking for an excuse to quit. He’s not the most ambitious person, you know, so he wasn��t planning on staying much longer.”

“Why didn’t you leave with him?”

“Because unlike him, I don’t want to stare at clouds all day. I want to conquer the world,” the cellist proclaimed with a proud grin. “No but seriously, I really did want to stay. Maestro Uchiha gave us a choice – either break up and stay in the orchestra or one of us leaves. It was a no-brainer, really. I still get to do what I love with one of the world’s greatest orchestras, and Shikamaru can just chill.”

Sakura felt a smile tugging on her lips. Even though Temari was a virtual stranger, for some weird reason, she was still happy that everything worked out well for the both of them and that – most importantly – the blonde didn’t hold a grudge against Sakura.

That was at least one person in the orchestra who was nice to her so far. The pinkette’s gaze roamed around and took in the many musicians scurrying around the stage and readying themselves for the rehearsal. Some of them had introduced themselves, others only smiled and nodded in her general direction. And then there were those who didn’t even deem her worthy enough of a single glance. A part of Sakura felt shunned, and yet another – albeit smaller part – proud. As Maestro Uchiha had said, everybody else in his ensemble was so much older and so much more experienced than her. What did it say about them if they felt threatened about someone so young?

Not that she needed a lot of encouraging from her conductor – she knew she deserved her place in his orchestra – but for some reason, being praised and complimented by Maestro Uchiha felt so much better than being praised by anybody else, even her previous conductor. Sakura couldn’t wait to show his entire orchestra what she’s got and to prove to her Maestro that he made the right decision in choosing her.

The chatter suddenly quieted down as their conductor entered the stage.

Sakura noticed that her Maestro had a penchant for wearing three-piece suits in dark colours. He never failed to uphold the suave and refined appearance he was known for, though sometimes he would discard his suit jacket and roll up his sleeves for a more relaxed look, like he did for rehearsal today.

The pink-haired cellist had to remind herself not to stare too much. Her Maestro was illegally handsome, but he was still her Maestro.

He tapped his baton against his music stand twice to signal the whispering flautists to quiet down. Once he had everyone’s attention, he let his cold and calculating gaze roam through the rows of musicians who were all expectantly looking up at him. It was clear to Sakura that Maestro Uchiha demanded everyone’s undivided attention and that he had no problem commanding each and every one of this 73 musicians with nothing but silence and a good old-fashioned intimidating stare.

“Before we start with our first rehearsal for the upcoming tour, allow me to address the elephant in the room. As you all know by now, the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra has got a new member as of this April. Ms Sakura Haruno joined us from Kyoto Concert Hall and will fill in our vacant spot of principal cellist.”

Maestro Uchiha’s eyes rested on her for a fleeting second as he spoke her name. Gone was the teasing and relaxed conductor she talked to in his office four days ago.

This was not Mr Uchiha.

This was Maestro Uchiha.

Calculating, in control, and completely in his element.

“Now, let’s show Ms Haruno how well we can all work together. We’re starting with Brian Tyler. Everybody take out your sheet music for Sleight of Hand. Strings, I want you to remember the sudden crescendo at the beginning. Flautists, I want to hear a seamless transition from staccato to legato between the fourth and fifth bar. Once Ms Haruno begins her pizzicato in the seventeenth bar, I want the violinists pianissimo as well as Mr Uzumaki with the xylophones in the eighteenth bar.”

This was it, Sakura thought excitedly. She usually never felt such a thrill during rehearsals, only at concerts. But this was a rehearsal under Maestro Uchiha. She felt goosebumps spread across the entirety of her skin as she readied herself and her instrument. Glancing up at her new Maestro, she caught his intense gaze. He gave her the slightest hint of a smile.

And then, he raised his baton.

“From the top.”

[janiedean]

fic, reylo + stormpilot + rose: roman holiday

fourth fill for the charity commissions I took in april :)

first: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @tombliboos​ ie the commissioner SHUT UP IT’S STILL JUNE 3RD AS I PREPARE THIS POST I SAID I’D BE IN TIME AND I WAS ;)

second: I’m posting this fic on tumblr only mostly because I have no idea of how people outside the italian side of tumblr would find it, but here you go.

roman holiday, kylo ren/rey + finn/poe + rose; pg13; 5,5k ca; utter crack on a stick; pseudo warning for political-ish satire but really you only get it if you’re italian

in which rey, poe, finn and kylo go visit their friend rose who’s studying in Rome and end up experiencing the current administration.

features: fridges in the middle of the trash, sudden holes in the ground, stuck subways and bad public transport.

A/N: everything depicted in this fic actually happens/has happened irl. I know.

original prompt: Reylo/Stormpilot Modern AU. Trip to Rome. Rey, Ben, Finn and Poe are visiting Rose who's studying in Rome. They get stuck in traffic. Their car falls into a hole. They hear noises at night and people are leaving fridges on the street. Poe orders cappuccino after 11am and the barista refuses to serve him. Rose explains that according to her Italian friends, the new mayor can't do shit. Bonus if at some point it starts raining and they get blocked in the flooded subway.

Episode One: The Phantom Airport

“Guys,” Finn says excitedly as their plane lands on the ground. “Guys. Can you believe we’re in Italy?”

“Not to rain on your parade, but are you aware this is about the twentieth time you’ve said that since we left?”

“Ben, let him live, not all of us have been here twice already,” Rey says, putting an arm on her… well, Finn calls him almost-boyfriend and she’s not so sure she’s going to live it down because they’ve been dancing around each other since the first time they argued during their joint political studies class, but for now she’ll just settle for… friends. Probably.

The fact that he rolls his eyes and doesn’t pursue the topic gains her a look from Poe, who’s sitting next to Finn and looking like he’s going to burst in laughter.

“Don’t you dare,” Rey hisses in his direction.

“Fine, fine," he says, raising his hands up in defeat. “I’m going to keep my mouth shut. But yes, we’re in Italy, good thing because these seats are cramped. Hey, what did Rose say we should do?”

Finn takes his phone from his jacket’s pocket — formally Poe’s jacket but he hasn’t worn it in months, since they met, and why did they get to have the love at first sight moment and Rey still hasn’t quite figured out how to tell Ben she actually is into him?

Then again, when the guy you’re into seems to have a bunch of frankly horrid friends and is a TA for your political sciences professor and then it turns out that the aforementioned professor is treating him so badly (including convincing him to change his name legally, what the hell — good thing he’s gone back on it, even if he uses the changed name for anyone that’s not her or his parents for reasons she still hasn’t brought herself to ask) that he gets a full-on nervous breakdown among the rest, and after he ends up dumping all his old friends in exchange for being friends with you and, in turn, actually getting along with your friends, pushing it is hardly what you should do. According to Rey, at least.

She’ll come clean with him. Just not during this trip, since they’re all supposed to relax and not to get even more stressed.

“Uh, after we get the bags we should take the train from the airport’s station and she’d come get us, she’s rented a car. We can either pay a lot for one that goes to the main station in half an hour or pay half that for the one that goes to the secondary one and takes one hour.”

“One hour,” Ben mutters, but then says nothing else.

“Well,” Rey says, “I’m good with saving money. We can get the cheap one.”

“Fair,” Poe agrees, “we don’t have to start wasting money now if we’re staying for two weeks. Right. Guys, let’s go grab our bags and catch up on jet lag, my legs are cramped.”

The four of them leave the plane and go to the baggage reclaiming area.

That goes well — they only wait some twenty minutes for all of their suitcases to be delivered, and they follow the signs towards the train station.

And then —

“Guys,” Poe says, “why is the entire thing filled with queues? That… doesn’t look normal.”

Rey looks at the small train station — there’s people in the hundreds queueing outside the tickets booths.

“That — yeah, that looks weird. Finn, can you —“

A moment later, Finn’s phone rings.

“Right. Hey, Rose, what’s up? Yeah, we just got here — what? Ah. Oh, right, I get it. What? Fuck. Right, I’ll tell them and we’ll let you know.”

He closes the call.

“Seems like there was a malfunction at the main train station. I mean, some malfunction to the centraline handling the traffic. So — all trains are blocked in the entire area.”

“All of them?” Poe asks.

“Yeah. She checked the news and they’re down until later tonight. She said either we get a bus or a taxi, but it’s going to be a long wait and we shouldn’t bother with this.”

“… I guess we should go and check the situation,” Rey says, and she heads out of the airport, the other three following behind.

“Wow,” she whistles.

“Fuck,” Poe echoes.

“Shit,” Finn says.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Ben says, and —

Given that the line for the bus stop starts five feet from where they are and the buses are way farther down the road, enough that they can’t see them, and that the taxi line is longer than that, they can barely see the ending from where they are.from where they are.

“How long do you think we might have to wait?” Finn asks Poe, sounding very discouraged.

“Er, I’d say at least a couple hours whatever choice we pick,” Poe replies after assessing the situation.

“… Yeah, not happening,” Ben says at once.

“What —” Rey starts, but before she can finish he has grabbed the wallet in the back of his pants, taken three hundred euros out of it and —

Stalked towards the first taxi in line?

“Oh, no,” Poe groans. "That's not really how it works — Solo, er, Ren, there’s a damned line!”

Before he can make that point, though, all three of them have run after him, and —

Rey can only helplessly watch as he pretty much elbows his way into the queue without as much as an excuse me, stops the first taxi and offers the driver the three hundred to skip the line.

Which the driver accepts, in the middle of very loud protesting.

“So, are you three coming or do you want to wait until dawn?” He asks, opening the door, still with people screaming at him in outrage in at least fifteen different languages.

“Well,” Finn says, “he’s gone that far, we might as well take the damned taxi.”

Poe looks at Rey. She shrugs — it’s a lot war.

“Fine, but never again. Shit, my mom would kill me if she knew I was doing this,” he mutters as he grabs his suitcases and reaches the taxi.

Ten minutes later, he’s in the front and Rey’s in the back in between Ben and Finn and Finn’s calling Rose and telling her they managed to find a taxi by some kind of miracle and could she please give him the address.

“Is some kind of miracle a code for Kylo Ren skipped the queue?” Rey hears over the phone.

“How would you know that?” Finn asks, surprised.

“It’s all over Italian Youtube,” Rose replies.

“This is really starting well, dios,” Poe groans before it turns out that the taxi driver speaks Spanish and they end up talking for the next forty-five minutes.

Rey honestly hopes that this is not how this entire vacation is going to go.

Episode Two: Attack of the Sudden Holes in the Ground

Three days later, Finn decides that maybe the whole airport failure had just been a misfortune. After all, other than that, everything has been great. The food is great, the weather is great, Rose has been here for months so she’s being an excellent guide and she’s also saved them a lot of money they might have wasted on tourist traps, Kylo Ren (Finn’s just waiting for the day he’s going to let everyone other than Rey using his real name, honestly) has actually looked not his usual gloomy self while going around the Coliseum and the Roman Forum for once, the sun is hot enough that it’s nice but not enough to burn and certainly strong enough that Poe’s tanned some already and surely Finn appreciates the sight, especially since it means he’s going around without a jacket (hey, a man has eyes and they’re together, he’s not going to complain).

All in all, he thinks, if the next two weeks go like this, it’s going to be the best time of his life.

If he thinks that until now he has never even set foot outside the US and no one at his group home would have bet a cent on him getting into college with a free ride where if you want you can go abroad for an entire year… well, he needs to send good old Ms. Phasma a postcard, she’d seethe knowing he went places.

“So,” Poe tells Rose, who’s driving, suddenly dragging him out of that line of thought, “what did you say I should check?”

“Just open Maps and check if we have some traffic in front of us. Hopefully not, but — oh, shit.”

She brakes. Finn raises his head from the tour book he had been reading, his side hitting the door of the car — better that than Rey, though, who’s still in between him and Ren. He doesn’t know why the man just doesn’t sit up front since he’s the tallest of all of them, but he knows he wouldn’t get an answer, so he doesn’t bother asking.

“Is — that — normal?” He asks, noticing that they’re now stuck in traffic and that no one is moving bar a few motorcycles that he’s halfway sure are breaking at least ten laws at once.

“Sadly, yes,” Rose sighs, and she lowers the window, stopping someone on a Vespa going in the opposite way and asking something in Italian. The guy replies before driving away and a moment later her head meets the wheel as she puts the clutch into neutral.

“That doesn’t look good…?” Rey asks, tentatively.

“Er,” Rose says, “there’s been some kinda wreck a kilometer ahead and we’re not going to be able to move until they clear it up. Which is going to be long. Unless — ah, fuck,” she sighs as rain starts to hit their windshield.

"What's the problem…?” Poe asks. “It’s just rain.”

“Driving while it rains here is a gamble,” she sighs. “Well, buckle up because we’re gonna be here for one hour at least.”

It’s not the worst hour of Finn’s life, even if most of it is because his boyfriend is a superior human being and manages to keep a conversation going enough to distract everyone from their current predicament, and finally forty minutes later they start going somewhere — the cars in front of them clear slightly and at least Rose can drive.

“Right,” she says, “good thing that going like this it’s just another fifteen minutes — oh, fuck!”

When she brakes now, it’s hard enough that Poe’s head hits the car’s window and Rey ends up sprawled on Ren’s side, not that he seems to complain, and before Finn can ask what the fuck was Rose thinking, he looks ahead and —

“Guys, is that a fucking hole in the ground?” That arrives just under the car, so they’re about to fall right into it?

“Not the first nor the last,” Rose sighs, turning the car off. “Right. I’ll call the cops, they probably haven’t even left yet.”

And that’s how they spend the next half hour around the hole in the ground while Rose talks to the cops, under the rain — Poe shares his umbrella with Finn, good thing he brought one, but it doesn’t fit four people.

That said, given that Ren’s given Rey his jacket and is now discussing with another cop while his dress shirt gets wet, he’s sure Rey’s not complaining.

Ren comes back not long later, looking outraged. “Can you believe that it’s apparently a thing that’s been happening for months because there’s no maintenance in the roads? How can someone be so incompetent? Even bloody Hux would be better at being a mayor than anyone in charge here,” he mutters.

“Are you complimenting Hux?” Poe asks, laughing. Given that Hux is the other guy who was going to be Snoke’s TA and they both loathed each other openly, this must be frankly bad. Finn is not even going to get into it — he’s never even talked to the guy while Poe spends his time trying to rile him up on purpose, so he would know.

“I’m an objective person,” Ren shrugs. “I hate him, that doesn’t mean he’s incompetent.”

“Guys,” Rose says, coming back, wrapped in Finn’s jacket — right, that’s Poe’s jacket, but he currently lended it to her because she had a sleeveless shirt and she had to talk to the cops —, “we’re good to go but the car’s busted. They’ll get someone to bring it to a mechanic’s and then insurance is dealing with it. But they offered to drive us to the next bus stop.”

Better than nothing, Finn decides.

The subsequent bus ride is only memorable because the bus is stocked so full of people that no one would accuse him of groping his boyfriend in public for being plastered all over Poe’s side without an inch of space between them.

“Well,” Poe whispers, not that anyone would hear them given the noise, “you do know that the moment we get home I’m tearing your clothes off?”

“Please do, I’m going to need it,” Finn groans.

Admittedly, when they do finally get home an hour and a half later, the sex is downright glorious — at least that.

But seriously, holes opening in the middle of the street? What kinda fuckery is that?

Chapter Three: The Revenge of the Fridge

Rose is fixing breakfast when suddenly her phone rings.

She checks it — she hopes it’s not anyone from uni, but they’re on break, too, and her classmates knew she was having friends over.

No, it’s —

Why would Kylo call her when he’s technically right downstairs? He volunteered to throw away the trash before going on a morning run and he left five minutes ago, what could have happened?

“Yeah?” She answers, taking the call. “What’s wrong?”

“How did you know something might be wrong?” He asks.

“Well, why would you call me when you were here five minutes ago?”

“… Fair. Uh, well, it’s just — can you please come down a moment?”

“Okay, give me a moment.” She turns off the stove under her coffee machine and grabs her keys. Right, she’s in her pjs, but no one will mind.

She gets down the stairs and out of the gate, where Kylo’s standing with the trash in his hand, still, and —

Oh.

“I mean,” he says, “never mind that I’m not quite sure of where I should throw this, but… why is there a fridge in the middle of the trash cans?”

In the middle of trash cans that are overflowing, for the matter, so of course he doesn’t know where he should throw away the trash in question.

She sighs and takes a picture of the scene.  “I send that to a blog documenting this kinda stuff,” she explains. “Hand it over.”

She takes the trash from him and goes to the paper trash bin — of course it’s overflowing, but never mind that. She pushes it at the top, hoping it’ll stay put, and goes back to the gate. “Just go on that run, it’s useless.”

“But — that’s trash! In the middle of the road!”

“I know,” Rose sighs, “but it’s been like this since I came here. Can’t do anything about it.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, “Hux really could do better, and that’s saying all.”

Then he’s off running.

Rose goes back upstairs and finishes brewing the coffee.

——

“Rose,” Poe asks not long later after he glances out of the window, “is that a fridge in the middle of the street?”

“Yeah.”

“But why?”

“A friend explained me that — well, the trash company has an agreement with another company to handle the large stuff like fridges and laundry machines. Except that the contract has expired and the mayor has to renew it but hasn’t yet, so she might have forgot or something.”

“The hell, how do you forget that?” He asks, obviously not too comforted, but then he grins, and — “Finn, put something on, we totally have to go take pictures with that!”

“What? Why would you take pictures with a broken fridge?”

“Are you serious? What better Facebook profile photo than me standing next to a bonafide fridge in the middle of the road?”

“You’re completely insane!” Rose calls after him, drinking her espresso.

Poe doesn’t deny that, but an hour later he, Finn and Rey are choosing what pictures to upload on the internet, of the ones featuring the fridge of course, when Kylo comes back upstairs.

“You took pictures with the fridge?” He asks, sounding kind of disturbed.

“Why not?” Poe replies cheerily.

“Don’t you have a sense of hygiene?”

Rose is inclined to agree with him.

“Hey, I took a shower just after I came back up and I disinfected my hands first thing, I’m not an idiot,” he grins, and Kylo just shakes his head and moves closer to the counter.

“Please tell me there’s some coffee left,” he sighs.

“Sure,” she says, “but it’s Italian. I mean, the strong kind of. Those three haven’t had the courage to try it yet, but —”

“I’m absolutely fine with espresso, thank you.”

She hands him a cup, deciding that one on one he’s way nicer than he looked like in college two years ago before he dropped his then-circle of friends and made friends with Rey. And he thanks her every time she hands him breakfast, which is way more than she could say for both her current roommates — damn, she’s supposed to be here a full year so she hopes she gets to change both before then.

“Ben, you should totally take a picture with the fridge, it’s black exactly like your outfit!” Rey calls from the table.

“Forget it,” he says, and drinks the entire cup in one go.

If anything, Rose has a new respect for him after that.

But yeah, no, she’s not taking pictures with the damned fridge either, especially because she knows it’s gonna stay there for the next month at least.

Chapter Four: The Last Cappuccino

“Hey,” Poe tells Finn on day six, when Rose is off doing some uni stuff she couldn’t delay and Rey’s off with Kylo Ren going around cemeteries or so it seems, while the two of them have opted for a nice, quiet stroll in the center before going back to Rose’s in the afternoon, “you know what, I haven’t had cappuccino yet.”

“Oh, right, and your mom is going to kill you if you don’t try it?”

“Well, she did tell me that before I left,” he grins back. “And I mean, I can’t tell Rose to get milk when she doesn’t like it just because I want to try it.”

Finn grins back at him, and damn but Poe loves how he smiles, all right? “Tell you what, we can find a bar and you can try your cappuccino while I get orange juice or whatever.”

“Hey, since I’m getting milk and coffe and I’m dragging you with when you’re lactose intolerant, I think the orange juice will be on me, how about that?”

“Fair,” Finn grins. “Well, there’s a bar over there. Any place is good, right?”

“Right.”

Poe checks his phone just before walking in — right. 11.30 AM — the perfect time for a break, they can have lunch in a couple hours and he’ll have had his coffee right when he usually gets it back in the States. Piece of cake, right?

The bar’s small but nice, and they have a few seats at the counter. He heads for the check-out, noticing that there’s just one person manning that and the bar.

“Buongiorno,” he says, grinning — hell, he’s been here for almost a week, he has at least that down.

“Hello,” the girl replies, smiling back. “What can I get you?”

“Uh, Finn? Still set on the orange juice?”

“Yeah,” Finn confirms as he takes a seat.

“Right. Orange juice for him, a cappuccino for me.”

The smile dies on the barista’s face, or at least, it becomes way smaller. “Cappuccino?” She asks again.

“Uh, yeah. Is there some problem?”

“It’s half past eleven,” she argues.

“… Okay?” He asks, not getting the point.

She stares at him. He stares back. Then she raises her hands in what looks like a defeat gesture. What the hell?

“Your funeral,” she says, and makes the cappuccino with a disgusted face before moving to Finn’s orange juice. Or better, freshly squeezed orange juice rather than getting it from the bottle.

They sit. He drinks the coffee. It’s actually good.

“Hey,” he whispers, “any idea of why she looked that put off?”

“No idea,” Finn says, whipping out his phone. “Good thing they have wi-fi. Let me look it up — oh.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently they don’t drink cappuccino after 11 AM — it’s like, strictly breakfast food and you’re not supposed to have milk past that. And 11 AM is the limit.”

“Oh, dear, don’t tell me that —”

“You kinda came off as the typical American tourist who barbarically drinks coffee and milk after the allotted time, yes.”

He groans. Exactly what he had hoped to avoid.

He looks down at his innocent-looking cup, then he shrugs and takes another drink. “Well, whatever. It’s good,” he proclaims. “But you aren’t telling my mother I came off as the typical barbarian tourist when I’m not even technically American.”

“I don’t know,” Finn grins back, “if you give me enough reasons to not do it before we’re back home —”

Poe, at this point, doesn’t even mind if the barista realizes what the hell they’re discussing here.

“I think,” he says, “I might make it worth your while.”

“Then no one’s ever going to know you completely failed in your endeavor of looking like a refined tourist with no barbaric habits,” Finn smiles, his fingers threading with Poe’s under the table.

Poe thinks he can definitely make it worth his while, later.

And he’s not going to drink cappuccino past 11 AM if it kills him, even if it’s damn good.

Chapter Five: The B-Line: A Typical Roman Story

“Damn,” Rey says as she checks her phone, “I have bad news.”

“What, there’s a public transport strike?”

“I see that Rose schooled you,” she grins, and damn, he needs to get a grip. Why can’t he either just move on or just tell her? Then again, all things considered, it’s a miracle they’re even friends by now. He’s not going to risk ruining it. “But no, it’s — we’re kind of late. If we want to make that appointment by seven PM we need to take the subway.”

Fuck.

“Do we?” Ben asks her, trying to sound like he doesn’t mind even if he perfectly knows that she knows why he’d ask.

After all, she knows what went down with Snoke more than anyone else bar his therapist does, so she knows he doesn’t deal well with a lot of people in closed spaces.

“Well, from here it takes just around half an hour or some more. The bus —” She checks something on her phone, then shakes her head. “We should change three and it’d take one hour and twenty minutes if they pass on time.”

Well, fuck.

“I suppose we can do that much,” he sighs, cursing to hell and back that he picked the Protestant cemetery — fine, he did really want to go on Keats’s grave and Shelley’s and for reasons, mainly, that he spent his teenage years ruining poetry paperbacks with their names on the cover, but he hadn’t realizes that the area’s only good connection with the place they should meet Rose and the others at was the damned subway.

Which he really, really, really loathes. Same as enclosed spaces. Same as spaces full of people, but at least on the bus you can look out of the window.

Not on the subway.

“Come on,” she says, “the sooner we go the sooner we’re there.”

She’s right, as usual, obviously, so he sighs and follows her into the Piramide station and walks down the stairs.

He doesn’t like how a lot of people join them on the platform coming from the attached train station — what the hell?

“That’s the train going to the sea,” Rey informs him. “Rose told me. Apparently it’s full of commuters both ways.”

“Shit,” he says. “Well, never mind. Let’s just be done with it.”

They take the metro. The train, Ben notices with terror, is old, and there’s no A/C on, which means that the moment they take it surrounded by a bunch of other people that most likely are all going to the last stop, same as the two of them.

Fuck. He hopes they get to sit at the only switch point, he decides, and the moment the train leaves he starts taking deep breaths the way his uncle said always worked back when he taught him yoga classes years ago.

At least Rey’s sticking to his side — even too much, given how much people are on this trap of a train. Which is not a good thing when you’ve had a crush on her for years and given that you treated her fairly badly the first few months that you knew each other you still are marveling that she gave you a second chance.

Ben Solo, get a fucking grip, he thinks, figuring that at least his therapist would be overjoyed that he’s not breaking the damned handset already.

They pass the switch point. They don’t get to sit. He has another twenty minutes on this trap at least, but hopefully they’re going to pass quick. Fuck, in what civilized place people use trains that must have been new in the fucking early nineties? He doesn’t know, but evidently here.

Anyway. It’s hot and he’s sweating and he’ll need a change of clothes back home, but he’s breathing and everything’s more or less fine and people will have to start getting down at some point —

Then the train abruptly stops in the middle of the fucking tunnel.

Then the lights go out for a moment, then they’re on again.

What the fuck.

Rey grabs his arm, good, because he was starting to get worried here, and he can hear people grumbling and complaining, but the bad thing is —

“Is it just me,” he asks Rey, “or everyone is dealing with this as if it was a normal occurrence?”

“I — I think you’re right,” she confirms, glancing around. Not that it’s easy, given that she’s pressed in between another five people and she can’t move and neither can he.

Shit.

Shit.

Right. He has to just breathe and keep his shit together — he’s never heard of anyone dying in the Rome underground and they won't be the first.

He glances at his watch.

It's been five full minutes.

People are still grumbling.

“I suppose no news yet?” He whispers. Right. That didn’t sound like he was about to lose his shit.

“No, but I'm surrounded by three old ladies, I doubt they'd tell me.”

Right. Little old ladies probably don’t speak English.

Fine.

Fine.

It’s going to be —

A moment later, he hears someone talk to through the train’s speakers — maybe the driver? Who even would know —

And then people start screaming in protest, what the hell, and no that’s exactly what he doesn’t need, damn it but after that year with Snoke he can’t handle people just screaming out of nowhere —

Then he notices that Rey’s talking to some younger kid who was somewhere behind the old ladies and hopefully filling her in. She nods, biting her lip, and then turns her eye on him.

“Did he tell you what the fuck is going on?” He asks.

“Yes,” she says, “and you won’t like it. Just — he said it’s not unheard of.”

“Okay. Shoot. What is the damned problem?”

“It’s raining outside. This train’s old. This line is also not as new as it could be. There’s been some electrical short-circuit and so the train’s not working.”

“It’s not working?”

“No, and — the driver said that he’s going to open the doors shortly and we should walk to the next station.”

“What the — isn’t that dangerous?”

“Apparently they shut down the rest of the traffic.”

“Oh fuck — we need to walk into that tunnel that might actually be half-flooded?”

He thinks he’s this close to just punch the nearest little old Italian lady who is screaming something in the vague direction of the train’s ceiling and making his head pound, but a moment later Rey’s hand has grabbed his and --

“Hey,” she says, “it’s fine. And we’ll be out of here before you know it. Shit, maybe we should’ve taken the bus for real.”

“We would’ve been late,” he answers, trying to keep his voice from shaking too much. So what if he threads his fingers with hers, though? At least he has an excuse to, now.

“Yeah, well, they’d have handled the two of us being late if the choice was sticking you in here. I’m sorry, I knew, but —”

“Rey, it’s not your fault if this place is beautiful but run so incompetently that even fucking Hux would do better.”

“Wow, you really have a low opinion of these people, don’t you?”

“Don’t you?”

“Fair enough, it’s terrible. But seriously, I didn’t mean —”

“Rey, if anyone else was here I think I’d have broken down the damned door myself,” he blurts, and he’s going to blame it on the fact that he’s not thinking straight, but a moment later the train lurches forward and she about ends up slammed against him and she ends up over him, and he loses balance which in turn means that he doesn’t almost murder a little old lady just because the woman moves sideways and some guy behind him manages to grab him by the shoulders.

Thing is —

He doesn’t really handle when if other people have their hands on him but Rey’s face is just above his and —

“Fuck it,” she says, what, and then she’s grabbed at his shoulders and put his weight off the poor guy behind him and her mouth’s on his and —

Wait, are they kissing?

For — he spends months imagining it and now they’re doing it on a damned crowded subway that’s also conveniently stuck down a tunnel?

People start clapping. Someone whistles. Rey’s hands are on his face and her tongue is moving against his and he’s not thinking about how they’re surrounded by people at all.

Well then.

Fuck it, indeed, he decides, and kisses her back the way he had hoped he would get to one day, and she moans into his mouth and people clap harder and —

Right.

He doesn’t think he minds being stuck in here that much, after all.

——

Later, Rose tells him that this is the second video of him doing something while on vacation here going viral on YouTube.

“What?”

“Someone filmed you kissing on the metro. A lot of people are wondering what are you going to do next because there should be a third to complete the trilogy.”

Rey snorts into her wine and both Finn and Poe don’t even try to say anything — they’re on the sofa clutching at each other for how hard they’re laughing.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he protests.

“You know what,” Poe wheezes, “you should totally grab that fridge, load it onto Rose’s car, drag it to the nearest place where they dispatch that shit, then you can go on a rant about how this mayor’s completely incompetent since she needs an American barbarian tourist who drinks cappuccino after 11 AM to get fridges off her streets.”

“I wouldn’t drink cappuccino past 11 AM,” Ben replies, wondering what the hell Poe’s getting at. “I have better taste than that.”

Finn starts laughing so hard he cries.

Ben does like Rey’s friends more than his old ones but honestly, he doesn’t even want to know what their deal is right now.

“You haven’t said no yet,” Rey grins.

He looks at her, finding himself grinning back without even realizing it, and then —

Hey.

He came here also to have fun and relax a bit, and honestly, he could carry that damned thing anyway.

“Fair enough,” he says, “tomorrow we’re taking the fridge, I guess.”

“Well,” Rose says, “I guess it’s going to go viral, too.”

——

It does go viral.

Rose laughs for twenty minutes before explaining him exactly what kind of insults the mayor’s supporters have left on his Facebook profile that they must have tracked down.

“What kind of people use… belonging to the adversary party as an insult if the adversary party isn’t, well, fascist or whatever?” He asks, very puzzled.

“I suppose people who are less competent than Hux at running anything,” Poe says in between laughing fits.

Ben decides that for once he’s going to agree with Poe — it does make sense that they’d stoop to a level that asshole never even reached because even he has more class than that.

Someone having more class than Hux.

What has the world come to, anyway?

End.

[atanih88]

FIC: Piece by Piece - Chapter 4 (Marvel MCU, Tony/Peter)

Title: Piece by Piece Pairing: Tony Stark/Peter Parker Rating: Explicit Chapter: 4/13 Summary: Three years after the end of the Infinity War, the world prepares to celebrate its third anniversary of freedom. The world doesn’t realize that the heroes who fought for them are a little broken. But hey, maybe broken together, is better than broken and apart.

Notes: Written for Marvel Big Bang 2018 and originally posted on my AO3. Go there for full fic. Will be posting one chapter a day here.

CHAPTER 4

‘How long are you going to be hanging around here?’

Peter nuzzles into the cat he’s currently cuddling to his chest. It’s a soft calico and it’s peering up at him with a pair of mismatched gold and blue eyes.

‘Peter.’

He snaps his head up and finds MJ looking at him from behind the front desk of the shelter. She has her sketchbook and her laptop open and she looks unimpressed. Well. MJ always looks unimpressed. But she’s looking particularly unimpressed right now.

‘Uh.’ He doesn’t really know what to say. And to be honest, Peter’s pretty comfortable where he is right now. If MJ lets him, he might even doze off for fifteen or thirty minutes. He’s wedged into the soft old armchair in the reception area, big enough for him to really sink into it. It’s a faded navy blue that had been fetched out of a garage sale a few years back like the rest of the furniture filling the shelter’s reception area. ‘Should I go?’ Is what he eventually settles for.

Evening has firmly descended and Peter’s watched the progression of the sun going down with dread weighing heavier and heavier on him. Because evening means no sleep.

It’s been a week since he left his suit at Tony’s. Happy had taken him. Peter had tried protesting, because he didn’t want to get Happy in trouble—not that he thinks Happy would, Tony doesn’t work like that—but Happy had just given him that look. The one that throws Peter back to being fifteen and constantly checking his phone to see if there were any new calls or messages from Happy.

Peter had spent the rest of that day not checking his phone because he hadn’t wanted to see a call or voicemail from Happy with a message from Tony telling him to get his ass back. Peter hates disappointing people he likes. Luckily his phone had stayed blissfully phone call and voicemail free.

Surprisingly—or not—that doesn’t sit well with him either.

The calico, Alley Cat, delicately stretches out, placing her paws on Peter’s shoulder and stretching, pretty eyes closing before scooting further up on Peter’s chest and tucking herself up under his chin.

MJ rolls her eyes and turns back to her laptop, typing furiously at it, her curly bangs falling to cover her eyes.

‘You look like crap, Peter.’

Peter grimaces. He lets his head fall back.

‘I can’t help it,’ he says, stroking his fingers through Alley Cat’s fur. He closes his eyes.

‘Yeah. Okay. Well. Maybe you can go not help it somewhere else. My boss is gonna be here soon. Doubt she’ll be happy that you’re here. Again. And that you haven’t adopted the cat. Again.’

Peter groans. ‘I’m sorry—it’s just—I can’t concentrate, okay? And May freaks out every time she sees my face. And I’m trying to sleep, okay? But it’s not working and I don’t know what to do and the shrink is telling me it’ll go away but—but, it’s not!’

‘But you said you slept when you stayed over at Stark’s. Just go back.’

He shoves to sit up and glare at her. ‘No!’ Alley Cat doesn’t like that. Sharp nails pierce his shoulder and Peter hisses, holding her away from him and giving her a betrayed look. Maybe Alley Cat is MJ’s spirit animal.

MJ stares him down, deadpan. It doesn’t take very long for Peter to give in and look away. ‘Peter. Take the cat. And get some sleep.’ She leans her arms on the counter and her expression softens. ‘I know you’re not happy about the situation but…at least when he took you away you managed to get some rest. The only decent rest you’ve gotten in a long time. Your body needs a break.’

‘I’m trying,’ he mutters.

Her expression hardens. ‘Try harder. Look. I don’t agree with how Stark handled this but he’s right. Right now, it’s dangerous for you to go out like this. I know—’ she puts up a hand to stop him when he opens his mouth, ‘you can take care of yourself. You’re one of the smartest guys I know. Don’t be dumb. Now go away, I need alone time. No one gives me peace these days,’ she mutters and starts typing. ‘And fill out Alley Cat’s paperwork. You don’t get to use her and then leave her. You’re taking her. Men.’

And that’s how Peter finds himself taking the subway, cat carrier in his lap, eyes almost sliding shut from the rhythmic sway of the train.

Huh. Maybe he should just ride the subway at night and see if he can sleep then.

~

Peter’s shouldering the front door open, cat carrier clutched to his chest, bag overflowing with cat stuff MJ had pushed at him dangling from his wrist and keys between his lips. The door is yanked open and Peter just manages to catch his balance.

May looks down at him, mouth open and half reaching to steady him. And beside her is Pepper Potts.

‘Peter! I was calling you! I was getting worried…’ May eyes the carrier. ‘Is that a cat?’

‘Uh, yeah, this—this is Alley Cat.’ He looks at May and gives her a weak smile. ‘I sorta adopted her? Um, today?’

May sighs. ‘Peter…’

May is another person in his life who is great at making him feel like he’s fifteen again.

So despite Pepper Potts standing there, Peter shifts his feet, looking away, and swallows to wet his dry throat. ‘She kinda helps me nap. Sometimes,’ he shrugs, ‘I don’t know why? Well, actually there are studies about—about—PTSD, and.’ His throat closes up. He can’t make himself look at May.

‘Okay,’ May says and steps forward. She takes the cat carrier from him. She smiles when she peers inside. ‘She’s pretty. What are we naming her?’

‘So her name was Alley Cat? I kinda like it,’ he shrugs.

May sets the carrier down. Peter closes the door behind him and lets the bag slide off his hand and onto the floor. May opens the door and eases back to give Alley Cat room.

May’s smile widens when Alley Cat pokes her nose out to sniff delicately at her new surroundings. ‘Well. Ms Potts came by to see you. How about you make her something to drink and you guys can sit down and talk. Alley Cat and I will get better acquainted.’

‘Sure, sure,’ Peter smiles, ‘thanks May.’

May stands, Alley Cat twining between her ankles, and she pecks Peter on the cheek. ‘Well. I larb you.’

Peter ducks his head, chuckling as a sense of well-being settles over him despite the exhaustion weighing him down. ‘Larb you too.’

‘And Peter? She says, lowering her tone.

‘Yeah?’

‘Listen to what Ms Potts has to say, okay? I think maybe,’ she sighs and shrugs, ‘maybe this is something you might need right now.’

Peter flicks a look over at Pepper where she’s watching them with a soft smile on her face. He gives her a tight smile and nods.

‘Okay then,’ May says and scoops up Alley Cat. ‘Alley Cat and I are off for some bonding.’

Peter watches her walk out and sighs, rubs his hands over his face before dropping them and giving Pepper an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry Ms Potts. Uh, can I get you anything?’ he asks, rubbing his hands on his jeans. It feels weird to be empty handed after having his hands full for a while. ‘The kitchen’s this way.’ He jerks his thumb in the direction of the kitchen and starts for it.

‘Thank you, Peter, and I’m sorry to intrude on you so late at night.’

‘It’s no problem, Ms Potts,’ he shrugs again, ‘I was kinda out anyway and it’s not like I’m gonna get much sleep tonight.’ Peter heads over to the cabinet, listening to the sound of Pepper’s heels as she follows him in. Ifhe dials up his senses a tiny touch more, he can hear May’s voice as she plays with Alley Cat.

‘Yeah… I’ve heard about that.’

‘So, um,’ he says, taking a look, ‘I got coffee?’

‘Coffee’s fine, thanks. Black, one sugar.’

‘Sure thing, Ms Potts.’

They’re quiet while Peter quickly makes two cups of coffee.

When he sets Pepper’s hot mug in front of her, Pepper smiles her thanks and hitches herself up onto the stool. Peter does the same, hands wrapped tightly around his own.

Is it possible to feel the bags under his eyes getting heavier? Peter thinks it might be.

‘What’s this about Ms Potts? Is everything okay?’ Which it must be. If something were up, it would’ve been To—

Peter drops his gaze.

So maybe walking out hadn’t been the best thing he could’ve done but to be honest, he hadn’t wanted to stay there. Not when the person who was supposed to understand was being a dick about it. And maybe in the following nights of Peter lying awake in bed and unable to shut his eyes and sleep, maybe, maybe, he’d thought that he’d overreacted too. But when you’re not sleeping it’s kind of hard to be as rational as you would normally be.

For a moment Pepper’s quiet, her hands wrapped around the mug. It looks out of place against her well manicured nails. It’s an old ALIEN mug. Peter kind of likes it. He bought it after—well. After. And it kind of made him feel better when it had arrived and he’d held it in his hands. Sure, it’s super ugly, but like—weirdly enough, it reminds Peter of what they all went through. And more importantly, it reminds him that they won.

Though his definition of winning had taken a critical hit. Winning would’ve been making it out of the Infinity War with everyone on their side intact. With everyone there. That had been Peter’s definition of winning.

He looks away from the mug and up at Pepper’s face. She’s watching him, the smile still lingering in small lines around her mouth but it’s faded now.

‘This might be awkward but, I’m sure you know that Tony and I haven’t been together in a long time.’ She laughs at herself. ‘Wow, that’s a bad start. Of course you know. Everyone knows. It was plastered all over the news when it happened.’

Peter shifts in his stool, tugging the collar of his t-shirt away from his neck and looking away from her. Because yeah, definitely awkward. ‘Um, yeah—I mean yes. I know.’

‘Sorry,’ Pepper says again, wry. She takes a sip of her coffee and her eyes do a little arching thing, eyes lighting up. ‘Good coffee,’ she murmurs to herself. She doesn’t look up again. ‘I’m not bringing it up just to bring it up, and like I said I don’t want to make it awkward for you. See, I know Tony. Tony’s a good man, Peter. But he’s also a pain in the ass. A pain in the ass with tunnel vision. Not all the time. Not when it matters. But he can’t let go of things. He pretends to. He’d prefer it if everyone believed he was invincible. But Tony’s not. And you know that. You were up there with him.’

Peter swallows and tightens his hand around his own mug, lets the heat of it burn itself into his palm. He shouldn’t have made himself coffee; maybe tea. May had bought him herbal tea. He should be avoiding caffeine.

‘I thought he wasn’t coming back. I thought, this time I’ve lost him for sure. I’m not going to get Tony back.’ She smiles again, crooked. It’s hard for Peter to meet her eyes because the pain is still there and it hurts him to see it. Because he can feel it all like it was yesterday. ‘He came back. Of course he did. And so did you. But not everyone did. And that meant—that there were parts of him I’d never get back too. I’m gonna be honest with you Peter. I think you’re all a little broken.’

Peter blinks rapidly. He’s clenching his mug so hard now it’s a miracle it hasn’t broken. ‘Uh—’

‘I don’t think you should be alone right now.’

‘I’m not alone. May—’

‘Your aunt doesn’t know what you’re going through. Neither do I. We will never understand what you’ve been through. And Tony’s an idiot. He should’ve just been honest with you. You’re not the only one that doesn’t sleep, Peter. Tony has—’ she stops herself. Peter sees her visibly reign in the emotion that has steadily begun to flood her tone. She squares her shoulders and holds her head up high. ‘Tony’s coping just like you. And I think maybe, maybe if you two helped each other in this, then something might actually change. Get better. You all deserve that.’

Peter swallows. ‘I don’t—what are you asking me?’

‘I’m asking you to be there for Tony. And to let Tony be there for you. I think he needs that. Someone to check him on his crap. At the same time, he needs you to be safe. You more than anyone. I think you know don’t you? He told me about what happened over there. Tony feels like he brought you into this, Peter.’

‘But I was already Spiderman—,’

‘Yes, you were. But when you met Tony, you became part of a bigger picture. At least that’s how Tony sees it. If anything happened to you, I’m not sure he’d recover.’

And if you died, I feel like that’s on me. I don’t need that on my conscience.

‘Yeah,’ Peter says. ‘I know,’ he says.

‘Your Aunt said you got some sleep when you slept over there.’

Peter nods.

‘Maybe you could think about it? It might help. Sometimes, it’s something as small as a change of environment. And if you’re there, maybe it won’t be so bad for Tony either.’

Peter swallows and nods again. ‘Okay.’

‘Peter.’

Peter glances up.

Pepper smiles at him. ‘Thank you. You’re a good man, Peter.’ She finishes her coffee then and stands. ‘I better get going. Sorry again for stopping by so late.’

‘No really, it’s okay. I’ll walk you to your car—‘

Pepper waves it away. “I’ll be fine.’

‘No really,’ Peter stands, ‘let me. It’s only downstairs right?’

‘Right. Thank you.’

Peter calls out to May that he’s walking Pepper down and then walks her down—really has to walk her down because the elevator hasn’t worked in forever—and then he stands on the sidewalk, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and he watches as she gets into a car that pulls up to the curb. She gives him one final smile and a wave and then gets in.

A night wind sweeps by, stirring little pieces of every day debris and blowing his hoodie into his face.

Peter stays, face tipped up to the wind, hoodie blown up against the back of his neck. He sighs, pulls it over his head. He glances up at the window for his place. Then shoulders slumped, he turns and heads back inside.

~

It turns out Alley Cat fell hard for May.

And that’s okay. Peter likes that May’s not alone and the cat is probably curled up with May, a warm ball for May to wake up to.

Which is why at 4.43 AM, Peter’s had enough of staring at the living room ceiling and the Cheers rerun on TV and is up and easing himself quietly out of the apartment in his training gear. He’d rather be swinging from building to building. He rubs at the insides of his wrists, pressing on the glands there to take away the phantom sensation of shooting a web.

He settles for the beat of his feet on the pavement and the sounds of music pouring from the earphones tucked into his ears.

The sunrise is still two hours away but the people who work behind the scenes to keep the city going are already up and running, train drivers heading for the start of their shifts, bakery and cafe lights peeking out through shut doors and closed signs, street vendors setting up for the first rush at 6 AM.

Peter keeps his hoodie up and keeps going, winding his way through his slice of New York until the air is burning in his lungs and sweat is dripping down his back and his neck, peppering his face, and his stomach is growling because he really should’ve eaten something before heading out.

By the time he turns back onto his street a soft drizzle has started up, falling softly and soaking into the shoulders of his hoodie, mixing with the sweat on his face. His breath is rattling in his lungs and he can feel a pleasant burn in his thighs and calves. He knows he could probably keep going for another hour, running to the beat of the music. It’s frustrating though because he’d rather feel that burn throughout his entire body, the tension in his arms from bearing the entire weight of his body, the soreness down his back and upper thighs from making his body arch into his lunges to cut through the city midair.

That bone deep disappointment fades away though as he begins to slow down near his place and spots a familiar car parked out front.

The door opens and Happy steps out into the drizzle. He glares at Peter as he opens the door to the back seat.

‘In.’

Since Happy looks like he’s two seconds away from strangling him—or maybe Tony—Peter does as he’s told and heads straight for the door Happy is still holding open.

He slides in, immediately enveloped by the warmth. Only then does he realize that he’s really cold.

Happy slams the door closed behind him and Peter turns to Tony.

Tony’s already turned towards him, one leg crossed over the other, scarf hanging loose either side of his neck and trademark glasses in place.

‘Hi,’ Tony says and shoves a hot cup of something into Peter’s cold hands.

‘Morning, Mr. Stark,’ Peter says, holding the cup gratefully, ‘thanks.’

‘So.’

Peter chances a look at Tony.

‘I just want to make it clear that I was totally right. And,’ Tony points a finger at Peter, ‘you had it coming.’

Peter frowns.

Tony takes a moment to pluck the lid off his own drink—coffee, Peter realizes, as the scent of it hits the air, just the smell immediately making him feel a shade warmer. Tony takes a drink from it.

‘Mr Stark—’

‘Ah. No. Stop. Don’t interrupt.’

‘But…you’re not talking?’ Peter says, talking around the food. When Tony gives him a pointed look, Peter stops and turns his attention to his own drink. When he takes a sip, coffee and cinnamon layered over one another flood his tongue.

‘What I’m trying to say is, I could’ve been nicer about it.’

Peter keeps his eyes fixed on his cup and after a moment takes another sip. He clears his throat and glances at Tony out of the corner of his eyes. ‘I’m sorry I called you a hypocrite.’

Tony shrugs and lets out a slow audible breath. ‘Yeah. Well. You weren’t entirely wrong. Or so I was told.’

‘So…I can go back to…?’

‘No, you’re still benched.’

‘Oh, come on.’

‘Pete.’

Peter sighs.

‘I’m not gonna force you. As I’ve been told multiple times—too many for my liking lately—you’re not a kid.’

‘Wha—’

‘The point being, I know you’re not a kid. But I think you need to give yourself a break. You’re smart. The night you stayed over, you slept the whole night. You didn’t wake up once.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because you asked me to make sure you woke up if you had a nightmare. So I kept watch. And you didn’t a single one. Change of environment, stress triggers removed. You slept. So I propose you stay with me. Eat, drink—well, water, juice, no alcohol, Mr. Not-a-Kid but still underage. Maybe do some school work. You don’t go back till the fall. It might do you good.’

Peter watches as Tony stretches his legs out, tensing his muscles—Peter can actually see the muscles of his thighs tense through the material of his pants which is stretched tight over them. Tony sighs and relaxes back in his seat. He turns his head to look at Peter.

You’re not the only one that doesn’t sleep, Peter.

Peter looks.

It’s easy enough to spot.

The glasses do a good job of hiding it but Peter can see it. The way the skin beneath Tony’s eyes is darker and more delicate. And he knows that if Tony were to take those glasses off, then he’d see the bloodshot whites. It’s not that Peter doesn’t know that Tony has always been good at hiding his own issues.

‘And it’s been a while since we’ve made some improvements to the suit,’ Tony’s saying, ‘now would be a good time to do a review. So. Come over. Enjoy the billionaire life for awhile, hmm? Recover in style etc. Oh. Here,’ he leans forward and brings out a big paper bag that has ‘Property of Peter Parker’ scrawled over it in thick green marker. ‘Peace offering,’ Tony says.

The paper bag scrunches when Peter takes it and sets it on his lap. He already knows what he’s going to see when he peers inside. He opens it up and folded neatly is the spider suit he’d left behind at Tony’s.

The thing is, Peter likes Tony. He loves spending time with him. That hasn’t changed in all the time he’s known Tony. It’s fun. And there’s always so much to learn. And maybe Peter doesn’t show it as often now as he used to before but Tony is still one of his favourite people, someone that Peter will always be in awe of. Even if the kid jokes got old forever ago.

Maybe this time, Peter can be the one doing the saving in their relationship for a change.

Even if Tony never realizes it.

‘What do you say? Sound good?’

Slowly, still staring down at his suit, Peter nods. ‘Um. Yeah. I can—I can do that.’

And then Tony’s in his space, hand firm and heavy where it grips Peter’s shoulder. ‘Great. Good talk.’ Then his eyes drop to the drink in Peter’s hand. ‘Food. New Turkish place down the road. Sound good?’ he doesn’t wait for Peter to agree or disagree. ‘Yeah, it does. You ever had Turkish tea? You’ll love it.’

Yeah.

Tony Stark is a whirlwind.

Peter doesn’t think he’ll ever manage to keep from getting sucked down into it.

Then again, Peter’s never wanted to.

[sickdaysofficial]

Sickdays #2: Sick at a Party

Fandom: My original work. I need a catchy name for my stuff. I’m shit at naming tho. Send help.

Characters: Kit, Violet, and unfortunately, Kit’s family

A/N: all my posts this week come with an illustration. All the illustrations will also be posted separately on my blog so they’re easier to find.

Kit Raycraft was curled up on his couch, leaning against the arm closer to the fireplace. He had gotten out of the hospital a couple days ago, but still wasn’t feeling well. His head was aching, he felt drained, and he had been coughing up a lung almost endlessly since waking up in the hospital. Approaching footsteps prompted him to look up from his novel, and his brow furrowed in distaste as he saw his father and stepmother standing over him, dressed even more pretentiously than usual.

“Can I help you?” He grumbled.

“Actually, you can.” Mr. Raycraft replied. “You need to go get ready”

Now Kit was confused. “Get ready for what?”

“Christian, don’t you remember?” His stepmother asked. “The fundraiser gala starts in two hours. We talked about this yesterday.”

Kit scowled. Partly because the last thing he wanted to do was go to a party, and partly because he hated the fact that his stepmother insisted on calling him Christian. He’d reminded her a thousand times that ‘Kit’ or ‘Ruby’ was fine, but she never seemed to care.

“And why do I have to go?” He asked.

His father replied sternly, “It’s a matter of appearances. You will show up, you will look good, and you will be a gracious host. If I hear of you acting unpleasantly, this will be the last evening you spend in this house.”

Giving a rattly sigh, the red-haired boy tucked a slip of paper into his book to mark his spot. He climbed to his feet and shuffled off to his bedroom to get dressed. Tonight was going to be hell. He hated wearing tuxedos. He hated his parents’ rich, arrogant friends. Most of all, he hated the ultimatum hanging over his head. He should have seen this coming. ‘Parasite,’ ‘freeloader,’ and ‘waste of space’ were the favoured terms used to describe him around the house. That didn’t make it less awful. He sighed again and trailed off into a cough, already dreading the evening to come.

The Raycraft ballroom was massive, and its decorations were as grand as its size. Softy glittering lights were draped about the room, and the air was filled with the smell of rich food and drink. A skilled band graced the gala with live music, and the soft chatter of guests intertwined with the lively notes.

Kit had taken up residence at an unoccupied table in the corner. He had managed to avoid human interaction for now, as well as stay out of his father’s line of sight. Despite his successes, he felt worse than ever. A throbbing ache was growing just behind his eyes, he’d coughed so much his throat was raw, and he found himself shivering despite the layers of formalwear that he normally felt to be stifling.

A figure slipped into the chair opposite his at the table, and Kit prayed for a swift death. He blinked a few times to bring his zoned-out blur of a visual field back to focus, and was pleasantly surprised to see Violet sitting opposite him. She looked stunning. Her vibrant blue dress brought out the matching colour of her eyes, and her normally pinned-up dark hair was cascading down her back.

“Are you alright?” Violet frowned, a mixture of concern and guilt in her eyes.

Kit knew she still blamed herself for him nearly dying of hypothermia (to be honest it really was her fault) and was thusly very worried about his well-being. He shook his head, knowing she would easily see through any lie he attempted.

“No. I feel awful. Father will have my head if I leave, though.” He groaned, rubbing his temples as he tried to soothe his growing headache.

“Yikes. Want a snack? They’ve got your favourite truffles.”

“Not hungry.”

“How about a drink? Get your mind off things a little?”

He shook his head. “Tried. Didn’t help.” The several glasses of wine he’d downed were sitting sourly in his stomach, having failed to do their usual job of easing his nerves and raising his spirits.

Violet pursed her lips in concern, trying to think of any way to help. “You’re sure he’d notice you leave?” “P-” Kit paused to cough for what felt like the millionth time that day. “Positive.”

Sighing quietly, Violet gave the younger boy a firm pat on the back. Though still strong, her touch seemed far less aggressive than usual. Kit didn’t question it, since he had a feeling he knew why.

“Just try and relax. If your parents get onto you about slouching in the corner, we can fake a dance.”

He gave a weak smile. “Thanks, Vi.”

“No problem.”

The night droned on at a painfully slow pace, and Kit was looking increasingly worse for the wear. Violet had managed to ward off the guests that had come near by fake flirting and chatting with him, but he had gone from ‘not feeling great’ to ‘fucking miserable’ over the last few hours. The boisterous music had only served to aggravate his headache, and he felt as though he were freezing, even though the body heat of all the guests had heated the room to an almost uncomfortable warmth over the course of the evening.

He couldn’t focus very well anymore, and Kit’s last dregs of hope sank all the way to Tartarus as an old friend of his father’s scooted her way past Violet to talk to him.

“Christian, dear, how are you?” She beamed and grabbed his hand.

Kit cringed to his very core, but the snobby old woman didn’t seem to notice. “I’m alright, Ms. Rees. And you?”

“Oh, I’m wonderful, dear. I’m wonderful. You know, this event is marvelous. Reminds me of the time your father and I…”

Without even trying to, Kit’s brain started to drown her out. Alexandra Rees was notorious for being able to ramble for hours on end entirely about herself. Her voice dissolved into a vague posh-sounding droning in his ear, and Kit simply mumbled an acknowledgement when she paused, muffling a cough into his fist every few minutes. He wanted to leave so badly. His head was pounding, his chest and throat were aching, he was freezing, and he was definitely starting to regret downing several glasses of wine on an empty stomach. Normally he could easily handle such a quantity of alcohol, but the constant coughing was shaking his body rather roughly, and the last few coughs had brought the taste of sour grape juice to the back of his throat.

A particularly violent coughing fit brought a mouthful of wine up with it, and Kit was forced to clamp a hand over his mouth, forcing it back down with a grimace. He swallowed uncomfortably before finally stammering, “T…terribly sorry, Ms. Rees, but I need to see to something in the kitchen. It’s been a pl… ulp… pleasure talking to you.”

Without waiting for a reply, Kit climbed to his feet and darted down the hall. Violet frowned as she watched him disappear around the corner, but she didn’t know whether she should follow. Deciding to wait and see if he returned, she looked over to see how the old lady had reacted to Kit’s sudden departure. Seemingly unphased, the long-winded crone simply turned to Violet and resumed her painfully long story.

Sitting up with a start, Violet was surprised to realize she had begun to doze off. It made more sense when she looked across the table to see Ms. Rees still unabashedly rambling in her direction. She suddenly grew concerned, however, as she realized Kit wasn’t back. Since she knew Rees wouldn’t notice, she pulled out her phone to check the time. Ten fifteen. Kit had to have been gone nearly an hour by now.

Violet cleared her throat. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Do you mind if I go and freshen up? It’s been a long evening, and I think my makeup needs a bit of fixing.”

“No trouble. No trouble at all. Go right ahead. I’ll be here.” The old woman smiled.

“Thank you.” Violet stood and walked off down the hall where Kit had vanished almost an hour before. Having spent a good portion of her life in the Raycraft mansion, it took her no time at all to find the bathroom her friend had taken sanctuary in. She rapped her knuckles against the door.

“Kit? You there?”

“Y–ahem… yeah…” His voice was hoarse and rather quiet.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, go ahead. Do… door shouldn’t be locked.”

Opening the door, Violet frowned to see Kit slouched against the bathroom wall. He was pale and shivering, coughing his lungs out into a fistful of toilet paper.

“Jesus christ. You look awful.” She remarked.

Kit attempted to make a sarcastic reply, but after being cut off three times by coughing, he gave up. Violet seemed even more worried by this.

“Your father be damned, you need to go to bed. You’re sick.”

Panicked, Kit shook his head. “H..he’ll kick me out.”

“If he tries, I’ll fight him. You’re ill and you need to rest. Come on.”

Without giving Kit a chance to reply, Violet picked him up and started walking back towards his bedroom, giving his back a light pat whenever he coughed. Though he seemed a bit wary to leave the party, Kit didn’t object, and seemed quite relieved to be deposited on his bed.

“Just relax a second. I’ll find you some pajamas to put on.”

He nodded. “Th…thanks.”

“No problem. Need anything else?”

“Painkillers would be good. Maybe some water.” Kit’s words were punctuated with a harsh cough.

Violet made a mental note of his requests, nodding and heading towards the door.

“Oh, one more thing. Vi?”

“Yeah?”

“If you try to drag me out in the snow again, I’ll kill you.”

  behold. miserable lonely Kit.

[williamsjoan]

Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring

I’ll be blunt from the start and say that Double Cross is a disappointing game. The game is not poorly designed or broken, it even has some good ideas, it’s just painfully unoriginal and ultimately boring. This becomes an even bigger disappointment when you consider how developer 13AM Games really put themselves on the map with Runbow for Wii U. It was unlike most other platformers that came before it, taking advantage of color in unique ways to create a fast-paced game that was super fun in multiplayer.

Unfortunately, Double Cross is the opposite in many ways. Its visuals look flat despite cool designs and animation, the focus on story proves to be frivolous because of lackluster writing, and its gameplay mechanics, while solid, feel wholly uninspired. When combined with the game’s incredibly short length and occasional technical problems on Switch, the game’s milquetoast nature ultimately means I can’t recommend this game over tons of other great platformers that are available on the Nintendo Switch and PC.

“The game is not poorly designed or broken, it even has some good ideas, it’s just painfully unoriginal and ultimately boring.”

As I mentioned in my preview, Zahra works for an inter-dimensional policing agency called R.I.F.T.. At the start of the game, a traitor masquerading as Suspect X allows their cohorts to break into R.I.F.T.’s headquarters in the Extraverse, kicking off a large scale investigation by Zahra into who or what is behind this major attack.

The game tries to keep to keep this mystery as the focal point throughout the whole game, though the culprit does become fairly obvious part-way through. A minor last-minute twist did pique my curiosity, but the game ended before the concept presented could be fully explored. Conversations are displayed in what the developers describe as visual-novel inspired scenes, though there aren’t actually any dialogue choices.

The artwork and character design is actually quite good, which helped me get through the mostly generic and clunky dialogue. With how much emphasis Double Cross does occasionally try to put on the narrative, I was never consistently drawn to writing, only a couple funny jokes and characters like Agent Pineapple who is a master of disguise and in love with a woman named Ms. Ham.

During her adventure, Zahra has to find evidence around three worlds, Gootopia, Reptarria, and The Funderdome, in order to arrest the main culprit of that area and build her case to take down Suspect X. While the investigative portion of the game seems like it would feed into a hidden collectibles system that has players scouring the environment of each level in order to track down the clue needed, that is not the case. Instead, levels are fairly linear for the most part, usually handing the needed evidence or requiring players talk to the right person once they get back to R.I.F.T. to turn it into evidence.

Upgradium is the main collectible within each level. This is added to an experience bar at the end of a level, with each level up granting Zahra new passive abilities, permanent upgrades, or special attacks. This progression system is actually structured well, rewarding those who really try to sink their teeth into the game. While I still think Double Cross would’ve benefited by making the evidence more hidden or stages more quest-like, upgradium does still work well as a fine collectible. If only the base gameplay loop was more interesting.

Zahra has standard platforming abilities like punching, jumping, and kicking, as well as some other special attacks and the ability to dodge roll through lasers. That being said, Double Cross’ main hook when it comes to platforming is the proton sling, a grappling hook of sorts that lets Zahra swing through levels or pull down doors in certain situations. Sadly, that feels like the only real twist among the standard platforming gameplay, and it’s something titles like Flinthook have done before in a better designed and original way.

“Still, none of these [mechanics] feel wholly original or even superior to what’s present in Double Cross’ contemporaries in any way, which makes Double Cross feel derivative to a fault.”

The proton sling’s implementation feels a bit unnatural in some of the levels, which do try to make the most out of the mechanics present with things like goo that impact movement, a timer whittling down until a train explodes, or a series of arcade-like challenges tailored around Zahra’s abilities. Still, none of these feel wholly original or even superior to what’s present in Double Cross’ contemporaries in any way, which makes Double Cross feel derivative to a fault.

Part of Runbow’s beauty was how simple the game was, but in a slower paced single-player game with a strong gimmick like this, that simplicity ends up hurting the game without any real hook. Yes, you can choose the main fifteen levels in any order, but when none of them stand out that kind of mechanic doesn’t make me want to return to them and play in a different order next time, despite the game’s short length.

Unfortunately, that short length is another huge blow for Double Cross. As I’ve stated, not much from a gameplay standpoint is abhorrent, there’s just not enough room within the game and its 18 levels (including the tutorial room) to really let unique ideas get fleshed out or to make the game feel like anything more than painfully derivative. Even the levels themselves suffer from padding at some point with entire sections focused on killing enemies with the overtly simple and uninteresting combat.

The one saving grace of those combat sections is the highlight it puts on the game’s animation and character models which are surprisingly creative and fluid. Even if characters aren’t memorable due to bad dialogue, their designs do still stick out in my mind. While that segment of Double Cross’ visual design is good, even it can’t escape being a mixed bag. Environments all feel surprisingly flat and simple with barely enough interesting things going on to keep me invested in the game’s longer levels.

People voiced issue with this back when the game was first revealed, and it unfortunately still hasn’t been completely fixed despite the fact that 13AM took the criticism to heart. Something like Runbow could get away with simpler environments because of its focus on strong and striking color. In a game where Zahra is supposed to be visiting living and breathing worlds, that plainness doesn’t work as well.

Like with many other parts of Double Cross, the environmental art isn’t poorly drawn or designed, it just ends up portraying dimensions that feel more flat and lifeless than the developers were probably intended. The game also suffers from a few technical problems at launch on Nintendo Switch. The framerate would occasionally stutter in intense moments and there were even a few points where the sidescrolling got a bit jittery.

These minute, but sometimes noticeable, technical problems, as well as the length, were truly what pushed me over the edge into not recommending Double Cross. While the game can be harmless enough, its short length and few technical problems really ensure that it’s not worth the price or effort to play when there are other similar platformers on the Nintendo eShop and Steam right now.

I really hate to have compared Double Cross to so many other games during this review, but it just goes to show how trite and unnecessary the game ultimately feels. It isn’t a poorly designed game as its controls are fluid and responsive and most of the levels present are designed well with the gimmicks they play with. Double Cross’ story and its investigative backdrop even contain some neat ideas that would benefit from being fleshed out further. That being said, as they stand, most of those aforementioned things suffer from what seems to be a lack of ambition.

Double Cross ultimately plays things too safe to its own determent with mechanics that can be found, and are done better, elsewhere. Coupled with the title’s short length and a few technical problems on Nintendo Switch, the experience isn’t worth its cost. I see a great game here under the skin, one that incorporates the investigative elements into gameplay, features more polished writing, and has the vivid visuals of something like Runbow.

“Double Cross ultimately plays things too safe to its own determent with mechanics that can be found, and are done better, elsewhere.”

Sadly, this is not that game, despite having laid the groundwork for some elements that I would like to see fleshed out in other games. Double Cross is fairly superfluous, sci-fi platformer that’s just adequate enough to get by, and that’s exactly what makes it so frustrating when you know the talented and passionate team it comes from.

The post Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring by Tomas Franzese appeared first on DualShockers.

Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring published first on https://timloewe.tumblr.com/

[williamsjoan]

Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring

I’ll be blunt from the start and say that Double Cross is a disappointing game. The game is not poorly designed or broken, it even has some good ideas, it’s just painfully unoriginal and ultimately boring. This becomes an even bigger disappointment when you consider how developer 13AM Games really put themselves on the map with Runbow for Wii U. It was unlike most other platformers that came before it, taking advantage of color in unique ways to create a fast-paced game that was super fun in multiplayer.

Unfortunately, Double Cross is the opposite in many ways. Its visuals look flat despite cool designs and animation, the focus on story proves to be frivolous because of lackluster writing, and its gameplay mechanics, while solid, feel wholly uninspired. When combined with the game’s incredibly short length and occasional technical problems on Switch, the game’s milquetoast nature ultimately means I can’t recommend this game over tons of other great platformers that are available on the Nintendo Switch and PC.

“The game is not poorly designed or broken, it even has some good ideas, it’s just painfully unoriginal and ultimately boring.”

As I mentioned in my preview, Zahra works for an inter-dimensional policing agency called R.I.F.T.. At the start of the game, a traitor masquerading as Suspect X allows their cohorts to break into R.I.F.T.’s headquarters in the Extraverse, kicking off a large scale investigation by Zahra into who or what is behind this major attack.

The game tries to keep to keep this mystery as the focal point throughout the whole game, though the culprit does become fairly obvious part-way through. A minor last-minute twist did pique my curiosity, but the game ended before the concept presented could be fully explored. Conversations are displayed in what the developers describe as visual-novel inspired scenes, though there aren’t actually any dialogue choices.

The artwork and character design is actually quite good, which helped me get through the mostly generic and clunky dialogue. With how much emphasis Double Cross does occasionally try to put on the narrative, I was never consistently drawn to writing, only a couple funny jokes and characters like Agent Pineapple who is a master of disguise and in love with a woman named Ms. Ham.

During her adventure, Zahra has to find evidence around three worlds, Gootopia, Reptarria, and The Funderdome, in order to arrest the main culprit of that area and build her case to take down Suspect X. While the investigative portion of the game seems like it would feed into a hidden collectibles system that has players scouring the environment of each level in order to track down the clue needed, that is not the case. Instead, levels are fairly linear for the most part, usually handing the needed evidence or requiring players talk to the right person once they get back to R.I.F.T. to turn it into evidence.

Upgradium is the main collectible within each level. This is added to an experience bar at the end of a level, with each level up granting Zahra new passive abilities, permanent upgrades, or special attacks. This progression system is actually structured well, rewarding those who really try to sink their teeth into the game. While I still think Double Cross would’ve benefited by making the evidence more hidden or stages more quest-like, upgradium does still work well as a fine collectible. If only the base gameplay loop was more interesting.

Zahra has standard platforming abilities like punching, jumping, and kicking, as well as some other special attacks and the ability to dodge roll through lasers. That being said, Double Cross’ main hook when it comes to platforming is the proton sling, a grappling hook of sorts that lets Zahra swing through levels or pull down doors in certain situations. Sadly, that feels like the only real twist among the standard platforming gameplay, and it’s something titles like Flinthook have done before in a better designed and original way.

“Still, none of these [mechanics] feel wholly original or even superior to what’s present in Double Cross’ contemporaries in any way, which makes Double Cross feel derivative to a fault.”

The proton sling’s implementation feels a bit unnatural in some of the levels, which do try to make the most out of the mechanics present with things like goo that impact movement, a timer whittling down until a train explodes, or a series of arcade-like challenges tailored around Zahra’s abilities. Still, none of these feel wholly original or even superior to what’s present in Double Cross’ contemporaries in any way, which makes Double Cross feel derivative to a fault.

Part of Runbow’s beauty was how simple the game was, but in a slower paced single-player game with a strong gimmick like this, that simplicity ends up hurting the game without any real hook. Yes, you can choose the main fifteen levels in any order, but when none of them stand out that kind of mechanic doesn’t make me want to return to them and play in a different order next time, despite the game’s short length.

Unfortunately, that short length is another huge blow for Double Cross. As I’ve stated, not much from a gameplay standpoint is abhorrent, there’s just not enough room within the game and its 18 levels (including the tutorial room) to really let unique ideas get fleshed out or to make the game feel like anything more than painfully derivative. Even the levels themselves suffer from padding at some point with entire sections focused on killing enemies with the overtly simple and uninteresting combat.

The one saving grace of those combat sections is the highlight it puts on the game’s animation and character models which are surprisingly creative and fluid. Even if characters aren’t memorable due to bad dialogue, their designs do still stick out in my mind. While that segment of Double Cross’ visual design is good, even it can’t escape being a mixed bag. Environments all feel surprisingly flat and simple with barely enough interesting things going on to keep me invested in the game’s longer levels.

People voiced issue with this back when the game was first revealed, and it unfortunately still hasn’t been completely fixed despite the fact that 13AM took the criticism to heart. Something like Runbow could get away with simpler environments because of its focus on strong and striking color. In a game where Zahra is supposed to be visiting living and breathing worlds, that plainness doesn’t work as well.

Like with many other parts of Double Cross, the environmental art isn’t poorly drawn or designed, it just ends up portraying dimensions that feel more flat and lifeless than the developers were probably intended. The game also suffers from a few technical problems at launch on Nintendo Switch. The framerate would occasionally stutter in intense moments and there were even a few points where the sidescrolling got a bit jittery.

These minute, but sometimes noticeable, technical problems, as well as the length, were truly what pushed me over the edge into not recommending Double Cross. While the game can be harmless enough, its short length and few technical problems really ensure that it’s not worth the price or effort to play when there are other similar platformers on the Nintendo eShop and Steam right now.

I really hate to have compared Double Cross to so many other games during this review, but it just goes to show how trite and unnecessary the game ultimately feels. It isn’t a poorly designed game as its controls are fluid and responsive and most of the levels present are designed well with the gimmicks they play with. Double Cross’ story and its investigative backdrop even contain some neat ideas that would benefit from being fleshed out further. That being said, as they stand, most of those aforementioned things suffer from what seems to be a lack of ambition.

Double Cross ultimately plays things too safe to its own determent with mechanics that can be found, and are done better, elsewhere. Coupled with the title’s short length and a few technical problems on Nintendo Switch, the experience isn’t worth its cost. I see a great game here under the skin, one that incorporates the investigative elements into gameplay, features more polished writing, and has the vivid visuals of something like Runbow.

“Double Cross ultimately plays things too safe to its own determent with mechanics that can be found, and are done better, elsewhere.”

Sadly, this is not that game, despite having laid the groundwork for some elements that I would like to see fleshed out in other games. Double Cross is fairly superfluous, sci-fi platformer that’s just adequate enough to get by, and that’s exactly what makes it so frustrating when you know the talented and passionate team it comes from.

The post Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring by Tomas Franzese appeared first on DualShockers.

Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring published first on https://timloewe.tumblr.com/

[williamsjoan]

Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring

I’ll be blunt from the start and say that Double Cross is a disappointing game. The game is not poorly designed or broken, it even has some good ideas, it’s just painfully unoriginal and ultimately boring. This becomes an even bigger disappointment when you consider how developer 13AM Games really put themselves on the map with Runbow for Wii U. It was unlike most other platformers that came before it, taking advantage of color in unique ways to create a fast-paced game that was super fun in multiplayer.

Unfortunately, Double Cross is the opposite in many ways. Its visuals look flat despite cool designs and animation, the focus on story proves to be frivolous because of lackluster writing, and its gameplay mechanics, while solid, feel wholly uninspired. When combined with the game’s incredibly short length and occasional technical problems on Switch, the game’s milquetoast nature ultimately means I can’t recommend this game over tons of other great platformers that are available on the Nintendo Switch and PC.

“The game is not poorly designed or broken, it even has some good ideas, it’s just painfully unoriginal and ultimately boring.”

As I mentioned in my preview, Zahra works for an inter-dimensional policing agency called R.I.F.T.. At the start of the game, a traitor masquerading as Suspect X allows their cohorts to break into R.I.F.T.’s headquarters in the Extraverse, kicking off a large scale investigation by Zahra into who or what is behind this major attack.

The game tries to keep to keep this mystery as the focal point throughout the whole game, though the culprit does become fairly obvious part-way through. A minor last-minute twist did pique my curiosity, but the game ended before the concept presented could be fully explored. Conversations are displayed in what the developers describe as visual-novel inspired scenes, though there aren’t actually any dialogue choices.

The artwork and character design is actually quite good, which helped me get through the mostly generic and clunky dialogue. With how much emphasis Double Cross does occasionally try to put on the narrative, I was never consistently drawn to writing, only a couple funny jokes and characters like Agent Pineapple who is a master of disguise and in love with a woman named Ms. Ham.

During her adventure, Zahra has to find evidence around three worlds, Gootopia, Reptarria, and The Funderdome, in order to arrest the main culprit of that area and build her case to take down Suspect X. While the investigative portion of the game seems like it would feed into a hidden collectibles system that has players scouring the environment of each level in order to track down the clue needed, that is not the case. Instead, levels are fairly linear for the most part, usually handing the needed evidence or requiring players talk to the right person once they get back to R.I.F.T. to turn it into evidence.

Upgradium is the main collectible within each level. This is added to an experience bar at the end of a level, with each level up granting Zahra new passive abilities, permanent upgrades, or special attacks. This progression system is actually structured well, rewarding those who really try to sink their teeth into the game. While I still think Double Cross would’ve benefited by making the evidence more hidden or stages more quest-like, upgradium does still work well as a fine collectible. If only the base gameplay loop was more interesting.

Zahra has standard platforming abilities like punching, jumping, and kicking, as well as some other special attacks and the ability to dodge roll through lasers. That being said, Double Cross’ main hook when it comes to platforming is the proton sling, a grappling hook of sorts that lets Zahra swing through levels or pull down doors in certain situations. Sadly, that feels like the only real twist among the standard platforming gameplay, and it’s something titles like Flinthook have done before in a better designed and original way.

“Still, none of these [mechanics] feel wholly original or even superior to what’s present in Double Cross’ contemporaries in any way, which makes Double Cross feel derivative to a fault.”

The proton sling’s implementation feels a bit unnatural in some of the levels, which do try to make the most out of the mechanics present with things like goo that impact movement, a timer whittling down until a train explodes, or a series of arcade-like challenges tailored around Zahra’s abilities. Still, none of these feel wholly original or even superior to what’s present in Double Cross’ contemporaries in any way, which makes Double Cross feel derivative to a fault.

Part of Runbow’s beauty was how simple the game was, but in a slower paced single-player game with a strong gimmick like this, that simplicity ends up hurting the game without any real hook. Yes, you can choose the main fifteen levels in any order, but when none of them stand out that kind of mechanic doesn’t make me want to return to them and play in a different order next time, despite the game’s short length.

Unfortunately, that short length is another huge blow for Double Cross. As I’ve stated, not much from a gameplay standpoint is abhorrent, there’s just not enough room within the game and its 18 levels (including the tutorial room) to really let unique ideas get fleshed out or to make the game feel like anything more than painfully derivative. Even the levels themselves suffer from padding at some point with entire sections focused on killing enemies with the overtly simple and uninteresting combat.

The one saving grace of those combat sections is the highlight it puts on the game’s animation and character models which are surprisingly creative and fluid. Even if characters aren’t memorable due to bad dialogue, their designs do still stick out in my mind. While that segment of Double Cross’ visual design is good, even it can’t escape being a mixed bag. Environments all feel surprisingly flat and simple with barely enough interesting things going on to keep me invested in the game’s longer levels.

People voiced issue with this back when the game was first revealed, and it unfortunately still hasn’t been completely fixed despite the fact that 13AM took the criticism to heart. Something like Runbow could get away with simpler environments because of its focus on strong and striking color. In a game where Zahra is supposed to be visiting living and breathing worlds, that plainness doesn’t work as well.

Like with many other parts of Double Cross, the environmental art isn’t poorly drawn or designed, it just ends up portraying dimensions that feel more flat and lifeless than the developers were probably intended. The game also suffers from a few technical problems at launch on Nintendo Switch. The framerate would occasionally stutter in intense moments and there were even a few points where the sidescrolling got a bit jittery.

These minute, but sometimes noticeable, technical problems, as well as the length, were truly what pushed me over the edge into not recommending Double Cross. While the game can be harmless enough, its short length and few technical problems really ensure that it’s not worth the price or effort to play when there are other similar platformers on the Nintendo eShop and Steam right now.

I really hate to have compared Double Cross to so many other games during this review, but it just goes to show how trite and unnecessary the game ultimately feels. It isn’t a poorly designed game as its controls are fluid and responsive and most of the levels present are designed well with the gimmicks they play with. Double Cross’ story and its investigative backdrop even contain some neat ideas that would benefit from being fleshed out further. That being said, as they stand, most of those aforementioned things suffer from what seems to be a lack of ambition.

Double Cross ultimately plays things too safe to its own determent with mechanics that can be found, and are done better, elsewhere. Coupled with the title’s short length and a few technical problems on Nintendo Switch, the experience isn’t worth its cost. I see a great game here under the skin, one that incorporates the investigative elements into gameplay, features more polished writing, and has the vivid visuals of something like Runbow.

“Double Cross ultimately plays things too safe to its own determent with mechanics that can be found, and are done better, elsewhere.”

Sadly, this is not that game, despite having laid the groundwork for some elements that I would like to see fleshed out in other games. Double Cross is fairly superfluous, sci-fi platformer that’s just adequate enough to get by, and that’s exactly what makes it so frustrating when you know the talented and passionate team it comes from.

The post Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring by Tomas Franzese appeared first on DualShockers.

Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring published first on https://timloewe.tumblr.com/

[williamsjoan]

Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring

I’ll be blunt from the start and say that Double Cross is a disappointing game. The game is not poorly designed or broken, it even has some good ideas, it’s just painfully unoriginal and ultimately boring. This becomes an even bigger disappointment when you consider how developer 13AM Games really put themselves on the map with Runbow for Wii U. It was unlike most other platformers that came before it, taking advantage of color in unique ways to create a fast-paced game that was super fun in multiplayer.

Unfortunately, Double Cross is the opposite in many ways. Its visuals look flat despite cool designs and animation, the focus on story proves to be frivolous because of lackluster writing, and its gameplay mechanics, while solid, feel wholly uninspired. When combined with the game’s incredibly short length and occasional technical problems on Switch, the game’s milquetoast nature ultimately means I can’t recommend this game over tons of other great platformers that are available on the Nintendo Switch and PC.

“The game is not poorly designed or broken, it even has some good ideas, it’s just painfully unoriginal and ultimately boring.”

As I mentioned in my preview, Zahra works for an inter-dimensional policing agency called R.I.F.T.. At the start of the game, a traitor masquerading as Suspect X allows their cohorts to break into R.I.F.T.’s headquarters in the Extraverse, kicking off a large scale investigation by Zahra into who or what is behind this major attack.

The game tries to keep to keep this mystery as the focal point throughout the whole game, though the culprit does become fairly obvious part-way through. A minor last-minute twist did pique my curiosity, but the game ended before the concept presented could be fully explored. Conversations are displayed in what the developers describe as visual-novel inspired scenes, though there aren’t actually any dialogue choices.

The artwork and character design is actually quite good, which helped me get through the mostly generic and clunky dialogue. With how much emphasis Double Cross does occasionally try to put on the narrative, I was never consistently drawn to writing, only a couple funny jokes and characters like Agent Pineapple who is a master of disguise and in love with a woman named Ms. Ham.

During her adventure, Zahra has to find evidence around three worlds, Gootopia, Reptarria, and The Funderdome, in order to arrest the main culprit of that area and build her case to take down Suspect X. While the investigative portion of the game seems like it would feed into a hidden collectibles system that has players scouring the environment of each level in order to track down the clue needed, that is not the case. Instead, levels are fairly linear for the most part, usually handing the needed evidence or requiring players talk to the right person once they get back to R.I.F.T. to turn it into evidence.

Upgradium is the main collectible within each level. This is added to an experience bar at the end of a level, with each level up granting Zahra new passive abilities, permanent upgrades, or special attacks. This progression system is actually structured well, rewarding those who really try to sink their teeth into the game. While I still think Double Cross would’ve benefited by making the evidence more hidden or stages more quest-like, upgradium does still work well as a fine collectible. If only the base gameplay loop was more interesting.

Zahra has standard platforming abilities like punching, jumping, and kicking, as well as some other special attacks and the ability to dodge roll through lasers. That being said, Double Cross’ main hook when it comes to platforming is the proton sling, a grappling hook of sorts that lets Zahra swing through levels or pull down doors in certain situations. Sadly, that feels like the only real twist among the standard platforming gameplay, and it’s something titles like Flinthook have done before in a better designed and original way.

“Still, none of these [mechanics] feel wholly original or even superior to what’s present in Double Cross’ contemporaries in any way, which makes Double Cross feel derivative to a fault.”

The proton sling’s implementation feels a bit unnatural in some of the levels, which do try to make the most out of the mechanics present with things like goo that impact movement, a timer whittling down until a train explodes, or a series of arcade-like challenges tailored around Zahra’s abilities. Still, none of these feel wholly original or even superior to what’s present in Double Cross’ contemporaries in any way, which makes Double Cross feel derivative to a fault.

Part of Runbow’s beauty was how simple the game was, but in a slower paced single-player game with a strong gimmick like this, that simplicity ends up hurting the game without any real hook. Yes, you can choose the main fifteen levels in any order, but when none of them stand out that kind of mechanic doesn’t make me want to return to them and play in a different order next time, despite the game’s short length.

Unfortunately, that short length is another huge blow for Double Cross. As I’ve stated, not much from a gameplay standpoint is abhorrent, there’s just not enough room within the game and its 18 levels (including the tutorial room) to really let unique ideas get fleshed out or to make the game feel like anything more than painfully derivative. Even the levels themselves suffer from padding at some point with entire sections focused on killing enemies with the overtly simple and uninteresting combat.

The one saving grace of those combat sections is the highlight it puts on the game’s animation and character models which are surprisingly creative and fluid. Even if characters aren’t memorable due to bad dialogue, their designs do still stick out in my mind. While that segment of Double Cross’ visual design is good, even it can’t escape being a mixed bag. Environments all feel surprisingly flat and simple with barely enough interesting things going on to keep me invested in the game’s longer levels.

People voiced issue with this back when the game was first revealed, and it unfortunately still hasn’t been completely fixed despite the fact that 13AM took the criticism to heart. Something like Runbow could get away with simpler environments because of its focus on strong and striking color. In a game where Zahra is supposed to be visiting living and breathing worlds, that plainness doesn’t work as well.

Like with many other parts of Double Cross, the environmental art isn’t poorly drawn or designed, it just ends up portraying dimensions that feel more flat and lifeless than the developers were probably intended. The game also suffers from a few technical problems at launch on Nintendo Switch. The framerate would occasionally stutter in intense moments and there were even a few points where the sidescrolling got a bit jittery.

These minute, but sometimes noticeable, technical problems, as well as the length, were truly what pushed me over the edge into not recommending Double Cross. While the game can be harmless enough, its short length and few technical problems really ensure that it’s not worth the price or effort to play when there are other similar platformers on the Nintendo eShop and Steam right now.

I really hate to have compared Double Cross to so many other games during this review, but it just goes to show how trite and unnecessary the game ultimately feels. It isn’t a poorly designed game as its controls are fluid and responsive and most of the levels present are designed well with the gimmicks they play with. Double Cross’ story and its investigative backdrop even contain some neat ideas that would benefit from being fleshed out further. That being said, as they stand, most of those aforementioned things suffer from what seems to be a lack of ambition.

Double Cross ultimately plays things too safe to its own determent with mechanics that can be found, and are done better, elsewhere. Coupled with the title’s short length and a few technical problems on Nintendo Switch, the experience isn’t worth its cost. I see a great game here under the skin, one that incorporates the investigative elements into gameplay, features more polished writing, and has the vivid visuals of something like Runbow.

“Double Cross ultimately plays things too safe to its own determent with mechanics that can be found, and are done better, elsewhere.”

Sadly, this is not that game, despite having laid the groundwork for some elements that I would like to see fleshed out in other games. Double Cross is fairly superfluous, sci-fi platformer that’s just adequate enough to get by, and that’s exactly what makes it so frustrating when you know the talented and passionate team it comes from.

The post Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring by Tomas Franzese appeared first on DualShockers.

Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring published first on https://timloewe.tumblr.com/

[williamsjoan]

Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring

I’ll be blunt from the start and say that Double Cross is a disappointing game. The game is not poorly designed or broken, it even has some good ideas, it’s just painfully unoriginal and ultimately boring. This becomes an even bigger disappointment when you consider how developer 13AM Games really put themselves on the map with Runbow for Wii U. It was unlike most other platformers that came before it, taking advantage of color in unique ways to create a fast-paced game that was super fun in multiplayer.

Unfortunately, Double Cross is the opposite in many ways. Its visuals look flat despite cool designs and animation, the focus on story proves to be frivolous because of lackluster writing, and its gameplay mechanics, while solid, feel wholly uninspired. When combined with the game’s incredibly short length and occasional technical problems on Switch, the game’s milquetoast nature ultimately means I can’t recommend this game over tons of other great platformers that are available on the Nintendo Switch and PC.

“The game is not poorly designed or broken, it even has some good ideas, it’s just painfully unoriginal and ultimately boring.”

As I mentioned in my preview, Zahra works for an inter-dimensional policing agency called R.I.F.T.. At the start of the game, a traitor masquerading as Suspect X allows their cohorts to break into R.I.F.T.’s headquarters in the Extraverse, kicking off a large scale investigation by Zahra into who or what is behind this major attack.

The game tries to keep to keep this mystery as the focal point throughout the whole game, though the culprit does become fairly obvious part-way through. A minor last-minute twist did pique my curiosity, but the game ended before the concept presented could be fully explored. Conversations are displayed in what the developers describe as visual-novel inspired scenes, though there aren’t actually any dialogue choices.

The artwork and character design is actually quite good, which helped me get through the mostly generic and clunky dialogue. With how much emphasis Double Cross does occasionally try to put on the narrative, I was never consistently drawn to writing, only a couple funny jokes and characters like Agent Pineapple who is a master of disguise and in love with a woman named Ms. Ham.

During her adventure, Zahra has to find evidence around three worlds, Gootopia, Reptarria, and The Funderdome, in order to arrest the main culprit of that area and build her case to take down Suspect X. While the investigative portion of the game seems like it would feed into a hidden collectibles system that has players scouring the environment of each level in order to track down the clue needed, that is not the case. Instead, levels are fairly linear for the most part, usually handing the needed evidence or requiring players talk to the right person once they get back to R.I.F.T. to turn it into evidence.

Upgradium is the main collectible within each level. This is added to an experience bar at the end of a level, with each level up granting Zahra new passive abilities, permanent upgrades, or special attacks. This progression system is actually structured well, rewarding those who really try to sink their teeth into the game. While I still think Double Cross would’ve benefited by making the evidence more hidden or stages more quest-like, upgradium does still work well as a fine collectible. If only the base gameplay loop was more interesting.

Zahra has standard platforming abilities like punching, jumping, and kicking, as well as some other special attacks and the ability to dodge roll through lasers. That being said, Double Cross’ main hook when it comes to platforming is the proton sling, a grappling hook of sorts that lets Zahra swing through levels or pull down doors in certain situations. Sadly, that feels like the only real twist among the standard platforming gameplay, and it’s something titles like Flinthook have done before in a better designed and original way.

“Still, none of these [mechanics] feel wholly original or even superior to what’s present in Double Cross’ contemporaries in any way, which makes Double Cross feel derivative to a fault.”

The proton sling’s implementation feels a bit unnatural in some of the levels, which do try to make the most out of the mechanics present with things like goo that impact movement, a timer whittling down until a train explodes, or a series of arcade-like challenges tailored around Zahra’s abilities. Still, none of these feel wholly original or even superior to what’s present in Double Cross’ contemporaries in any way, which makes Double Cross feel derivative to a fault.

Part of Runbow’s beauty was how simple the game was, but in a slower paced single-player game with a strong gimmick like this, that simplicity ends up hurting the game without any real hook. Yes, you can choose the main fifteen levels in any order, but when none of them stand out that kind of mechanic doesn’t make me want to return to them and play in a different order next time, despite the game’s short length.

Unfortunately, that short length is another huge blow for Double Cross. As I’ve stated, not much from a gameplay standpoint is abhorrent, there’s just not enough room within the game and its 18 levels (including the tutorial room) to really let unique ideas get fleshed out or to make the game feel like anything more than painfully derivative. Even the levels themselves suffer from padding at some point with entire sections focused on killing enemies with the overtly simple and uninteresting combat.

The one saving grace of those combat sections is the highlight it puts on the game’s animation and character models which are surprisingly creative and fluid. Even if characters aren’t memorable due to bad dialogue, their designs do still stick out in my mind. While that segment of Double Cross’ visual design is good, even it can’t escape being a mixed bag. Environments all feel surprisingly flat and simple with barely enough interesting things going on to keep me invested in the game’s longer levels.

People voiced issue with this back when the game was first revealed, and it unfortunately still hasn’t been completely fixed despite the fact that 13AM took the criticism to heart. Something like Runbow could get away with simpler environments because of its focus on strong and striking color. In a game where Zahra is supposed to be visiting living and breathing worlds, that plainness doesn’t work as well.

Like with many other parts of Double Cross, the environmental art isn’t poorly drawn or designed, it just ends up portraying dimensions that feel more flat and lifeless than the developers were probably intended. The game also suffers from a few technical problems at launch on Nintendo Switch. The framerate would occasionally stutter in intense moments and there were even a few points where the sidescrolling got a bit jittery.

These minute, but sometimes noticeable, technical problems, as well as the length, were truly what pushed me over the edge into not recommending Double Cross. While the game can be harmless enough, its short length and few technical problems really ensure that it’s not worth the price or effort to play when there are other similar platformers on the Nintendo eShop and Steam right now.

I really hate to have compared Double Cross to so many other games during this review, but it just goes to show how trite and unnecessary the game ultimately feels. It isn’t a poorly designed game as its controls are fluid and responsive and most of the levels present are designed well with the gimmicks they play with. Double Cross’ story and its investigative backdrop even contain some neat ideas that would benefit from being fleshed out further. That being said, as they stand, most of those aforementioned things suffer from what seems to be a lack of ambition.

Double Cross ultimately plays things too safe to its own determent with mechanics that can be found, and are done better, elsewhere. Coupled with the title’s short length and a few technical problems on Nintendo Switch, the experience isn’t worth its cost. I see a great game here under the skin, one that incorporates the investigative elements into gameplay, features more polished writing, and has the vivid visuals of something like Runbow.

“Double Cross ultimately plays things too safe to its own determent with mechanics that can be found, and are done better, elsewhere.”

Sadly, this is not that game, despite having laid the groundwork for some elements that I would like to see fleshed out in other games. Double Cross is fairly superfluous, sci-fi platformer that’s just adequate enough to get by, and that’s exactly what makes it so frustrating when you know the talented and passionate team it comes from.

The post Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring by Tomas Franzese appeared first on DualShockers.

Double Cross Review — An Inter-Dimensional Extravaganza Made Boring published first on https://timloewe.tumblr.com/