#trying to rearrange this to cover some of the big points that HAD to be covered by Shirayuki POV | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bigasswritingmagnet · 1 year ago

Text

Stop. Talking.

Fandom: Girl Genius Pairing: Gil/Tarvek/Agatha Summary: Tarvek and Gil are perfectly happy sharing Agatha. They're getting along really well these days. Except...for some reason, all of a sudden, Gil just can't seem to stop insulting Tarvek. He's not even trying to do it! It's just like when he was trying to propose to Agatha-

Uh oh.

AO3 link

‘The consorts are fighting again.’

Agatha didn’t look up from the clockwork spread out on the workbench in front of her.

“They do that,” she said, distractedly.

‘In my experience, such restlessness is usually caused by particular needs going unfullfi-’

Without looking up, Agatha picked up a small death ray from a nearby stool and pointed it at a particularly pretty mosaic on the wall.

“What is my rule?” she asked, using her free to hand to rearrange the cogs.

‘My presence and opinion are unwelcome in the bedroom,’ the castle said, quickly.

“Correct,” Agatha said, and set the death ray back down. “Don’t worry about it. Bantering is how they communicate.”

‘It seems a little one-sided for bantering…’ the castle said, uncertainly.

Gil’s plaintive calls fell on deaf ears as Tarvek stormed down the hallway.

“It was a compliment,” Gil insisted, hurrying after him.

“It was not,” Tarvek snapped, white-faced. “My family practically invented the art of devious, backhanded fake compliments so believe me, Holtzfӓller, when I say that that was an insult.”

Gil winced. Tarvek only made that particular nominal slip-up when he was really, really mad.

“Well, it was supposed to be a compliment!”

Travek entered his study and slammed the door shut so abruptly Gil nearly walked right into it. Gil opened the door and immediately ducked as a letter opener sliced by, directly where his ear would have been.

Gil stared in shock at the letter opener—apparently having been sharpened more than Gil felt was necessary for merely cutting paper—vibrating half-buried in the wood of the far wall.

“Were you trying to—”

Stars burst in his eyes as something heavy slammed into the back of his head.

“Ow!”

Rubbing the back of his head, Gil turned around and had just enough time to dodge volume 2 of the Encyclopedia Horrifica (which covered chanting, ominous through corn)

“Get! Out!”

“I’m trying to apologize!” Gil protested.

“No, you’re not!” Tarvek shot back. “You’re explaining to me why I shouldn’t be angry! That is not the same thing!”

“I—! Okay, fine! I’m sorry that you thought my compliment came across like an insult!”

He managed to avoid volume 3 (cosh through dzyzxs) but not volume 4, 5, or 6 (all of the letter E), which knocked him straight off his feet. Before Gil could rise, Tarvek slammed the door shut again. This time, Gil heard him lock it.

Agatha’s tongue stuck out in concentration as she picked up the fragile blown-glass bulb with the tips of her gloved fingers. Slowly, she lifted it up and set it in the gap between two pipes, holding it in place with one hand. With the other, she turned a dial, fraction by fraction, slowly increasing the pressure on the seal that would lock the whisper-thin—but extremely necessary—bulb into place.

Gil burst into the room with a crash of the door.

“You have to talk to Tarvek!”

Agatha didn’t even flinch.

“What did you do now?” she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on the task at hand.

“Wh-! Why do you think I did anything?” he demanded, indignantly.

“Because when he starts it, you have no problem finishing it. You only ever come to me when it’s your fault.”

“Wh-! You-! That-!” Gil sputtered.

“There!” Agatha said, as the pressure gauge clicked green. She locked the mechanism in place and stepped back, tugging off her gloves and looking at Gil.

“So. What did you do?”

“I gave him a compliment!” Gil said. “And he got mad at me!”

Agatha gave him an I do not believe you look.

“We were talking about that big conference with the neighboring city states, and he made a couple of suggestions that were, y’know, Tarvek level sneaky.”

“Mm-hmm…”

“And I said…I don’t remember exactly what I said, but he asked me what I meant and I said we all know you’re a devious underhanded weasel, but this is the best double-crossing you’ve done since Sturmhalten’. And he—” Gil paused at the look on Agatha’s face. “What? It was a compliment! He managed to outplay the Other! That’s impressive!”

“He was also outplaying me!"

Gil scoffed.

“Well, yeah, but I wasn’t talking about that.”

“You didn’t specify!”

“Why should I? We forgave him for that, he knows that!”

Agatha shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“He’s sensitive about it.”

Gil snorted.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Agatha pointed back at the door.

“Go apologize.”

“But I didn’t do anything—!”

“You know what he’s like! He expects double meanings and power plays everywhere, all the time! You gave a compliment; he heard you trying to dig in the knife by reminding him of what he considers one of the worst things he’s ever done.”

Gil opened his mouth, outraged. Gil considered what Agatha had said. Gil closed his mouth.

“What is with you lately?” Agatha demanded. “It’s like every time I turn around you’ve said something stupid enough to make him go storming off—Gil?"

Gil had gone pale.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

“What? Gil, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Gil did not answer. He was staring into space, gazing at some unseen horror. Agatha took him by the shoulders and shook him.

“Gil!”

“It’s pathological,” he said, hoarsely. “It has to be. I thought it was just you, but no, this is, this is just what I’m like—”

“What are you talking about?” Agatha exclaimed. He lowered his head slowly to look at her, his eyes haunted and hollow.

“I’m in love with Tarvek.”

Agatha stared at him for a moment...then she put her hand to her mouth and let out a soft gasp. “Oh, it is pathological.”

“This is all my father’s fault,” he snarled, fists clenching. “All that work he put into protecting me and making me physically stronger and faster and he didn’t do anything that could save me from my own big fat mouth!” He collapsed forward, head on the workbench, arms flung over his head.

Agatha put her hands on his shoulders, patting reassuringly.

“I’m doomed,” Gil wailed.

“No, no, you’re not. Come on, Gil, you weren’t thinking about it before, but now that you know—”

“No!” Gil said, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. “Don't you understand? Tarvek and I hated each other for years! It took dying to get us to have a civil conversation, and now—!”

He clutched at his face, his imagination dancing nightmare scenarios before his eyes.

“I’m going to ruin everything,” he moaned. “I’m going to destroy everything we’ve built. You’re going to have to choose between us. When we have dinner he’s going to ask you to ask me to pass the salt because he won’t even want to talk to me enough to–Ack!”

Agatha spritzed him with the squirt bottle again.

“Stop that!” she said.

“You stop that!” he said, blinking water out of his eyes. “What is that?”

“It’s von Zinzer’s. He uses it when I start talking about dismantling the town for parts. Now listen to me.” She set the bottle down firmly and put her hands on her hips. “You are not going to ruin everything. You managed it with me, you can manage it with him.”

“Are you joking? We had to be trapped in the castle and almost permanently die about ten different times before you could trust me! And then we had all the–" Gil waved his hands around in a gesture that quite succinctly managed to sum up the overlay, his father freezing the town, two years of Agatha being missing in time, the collapsing empire, Martellus, Paris, England, god queens, inter-dimensional disasters, exorcism engines, and Martellus again. "–everything before we could be together!"

"You and Tarvek were mad at each other for years, and it took you two days in the castle to get over it."

"By dying!"

'If you think it might help, I could always kill you again,' the castle suggested.

Without looking away from Gil, Agatha picked up the death ray and shot out a light.

"Gil, relax. You're overthinking this. Give Tarvek time to cool off, then go to him, and tell him you love him. No big explanation, just 'I love you'. You can do that, can't you?"

"Yes," Gil said. "I can do that."

He straightened up.

"I can do that," he said, confidently. Then he sagged "No I can't."

"Gil."

"I'll just start babbling! You know me! I'll open my mouth to say it and explanations will come out! Can't you tell him for me? He likes you."

"He likes you, too!"

"But he doesn't love me!"

Silence.

Gil swallowed hard, his eyes going overbright.

"I can't tell him," he whispered. "Not when he doesn't...and he doesn't."

Agatha sighed, softly.

"Gil..." She picked up her gloves and began whacking him with them. "Are you joking? After everything you two have been through together? Of course he loves you! That's why he doesn't stab you when you're an idiot!"

Gil caught the gloves and pulled them out of her hand.

"You don't know that!" he insisted.

"I absolutely do! You, me, and Violetta might be the only people in the world who really know Tarvek, and I hear the way he talks about you when you're not there–" She grabbed the gloves back and punctuated her statement with three solid whacks. "So I am telling you! With confidence! That he loves you!"

She pointed at the door.

"Now go think about what you're doing to say to him. Plan it out. Give him time to cool off. And then go tell him how you feel, or so help me Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, I will tell the Jӓgers you want their help."

Gil waited two days. Not because it took Tarvek two days to stop being mad at Gil, but because Gil was sure his nerves would eat him alive if he waited any longer. Tarvek had stopped leaving the room when Gil walked in, and Gil would just have to hope that that would be enough.

Tarvek was in the library, flipping idly through a book on poisons and occasionally making corrections in red ink. He didn't look up when Gil cleared his throat.

"I'm busy."

"I need to talk to you."

"Write me a note."

"Would you please just—" Gil sighed. "Just hear me out?"

Tarvek, every motion extremely pointed and deliberate, set the pen aside, slid the bookmark between the pages, shut the book, and gave Gil his full attention.

Gil's palms began to sweat.

“And let me actually finish, before you start yelling at me.” Gil said, and winced internally. No, that was much too rude, now Tarvek was narrowing his eyes and bristling. Quick, quick, the speech! You practiced the speech! What was the speech?

“The reason I've been so rude lately is because you—” No, no, no, no, you are NOT starting a love confession with it's your fault I'm insulting you. “I know I’ve been acting like an idiot lately—”

He paused, expecting Tarvek to make a comment, but Tarvek just raised his eyebrows.

“The thing is,” Gil said. “The thing is, I…” He took a deep breath. “I’m—”

“You’re in love with me,” Tarvek finished for him.

Gil’s jaw dropped.

“You knew?”

Tarvek snorted.

“Of course I knew. I knew months ago. It was so obvious.”

“It wasn’t obvious to me!” Gil blustered.

“Really? You didn’t notice that you’ve been acting exactly like you used to act around Agatha?”

“Eventually!” Gil sputtered. “So all of this being mad and throwing things at me, you were just winding me up?”

“No,” Tarvek said, plainly. “You were genuinely insulting and I didn’t see any reason to let you off the hook just because I knew why it was happening.”

Gil stared at him, and Tarvek’s mouth curled up into a smirk, the cat construct that ate the mutant canary.

"And I was winding you up."

Gil stared, speechlessly. Tarvek tossed his book onto the cushion beside him and stood.

"Actually, I was kind of hoping you'd take longer to put it together—it’s fun watching you flail around.”

“I take it back,” Gil said, flatly. “I hate you. I hate you forever and ever and ever.”

Tarvek put his hand on the back of Gil’s head, and kissed him.

It was a very, very good kiss. Gil was relieved to find he enjoyed it exactly as much as he enjoyed kissing Agatha, which had been a concern, but then Tarvek put his arm around Gil and pressed in close and opened his mouth against Gil’s and that was about it for any sort of higher brain function for Gil for the remainder of the kiss.

“Um,” Gil said, finally. “You’re. Very good at that.”

“I am,” Tarvek said, sweetly.

“I still hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

#gilgamesh wulfenbach #tarvek sturmvoraus #agatha heterodyne #gil/tarvek/agatha #girl genius #gil/tarvek #gil/agatha #tarvek/agatha

148 notes · View notes

malkaleh · 5 months ago

Note

OKAY SO LOTR MUSICAL TL;DR: it's a pretty straightforward musical adaptation of LotR. The first act covers FOTR and ends with Boromir's death and the second act is as much of TTT and ROTK as they could fit into about an hour and 15 minutes. This works better than you might expect it to. There are 2 main eras of the show: Original production and Revival era (which is currently ongoing HOORAY!!! :D) The og production began in toronto in 2006 and was ported over to the west end in 2007 where it was generally panned by critics and closed less than a year after opening. It was big, showy, and tried to capture some of the same drama as the movies with a lot of complicated effects work and a moving stage that resembled a layer cake. Costumes in this period were WILD, probably because they were trying to establish an identity distinct from the movies. Also the elves were on aerial silks for lothlorien and this is the one thing that I wish the revival had ported over because I ADORE silks in musical theater <3 The only official cast recording of the show is from the london run, although both the watermill and chicago casts have recorded versions of the flagship song Now and for Always in the last couple years Okay so that production crashed and burned in 2008 and the show was left basically untouched until 2023, at which point we entered... THE REVIVAL ERA!!!! The show was revamped in 2023 for the small Watermill theatre in England and given an entirely new artistic direction, although I'm told that the book is by and large the same. (They did change a few lyrics in the songs though, unfortunately mostly for the worse imo) The show's new vibe significantly scaled down the production, reducing the cast size and making it actor-muso to eschew the need for an orchestra. As a result of this the score was also rearranged for the smaller selection of instruments. The revival added the framing device(?) of the story being told by the hobbits via adding LARP sections to the beginning and end of the show: at Bilbo's birthday party and the Scouring of the Shire. I was lucky enough to get to participate in this when I went to see the show and truly it was the best part of the whole (overall excellent) experience. The framing device invites the audience to BE hobbits with the performers and justifies some of the plot decisions and general lack-of-epic-battle-scenes. Along with the new arrangement, reduced cast, and framing device, the show's new costume and production design is GREAT. They took inspiration from a wider range of cultures and styles of dress than the more traditional western fantasy of the og production, so now the elvish costumes are indian-inspired, gimli's costume and the doors of durin utilize celtic patterns, the orcs are dressed in aggressively modern gas masks and hoodies, and the steward of gondor (more on him later) is in scottish tartan. The hobbits are still in the classic suspenders and waistcoats, of course. This helps the show a lot because it sort of provides shorthand for all the culture and worldbuilding that the script doesn't have time to do. Honestly I could go on forever about the revival costumes, they are incredible and I love them very much. ANYWAY, the show was a smash hit at the watermill, sold out its july-october run, and was exported to chicago with a new cast in summer 2024 where it ran for several months before the cast transferred to aotearoa to do a few more weeks of shows before passing the baton to the current australian cast who iirc are between tour stops right now, but will be moving on to singapore and southeast asia after taking all the major theaters of australia by storm. :D The show will be returning to the UK (plymouth) this october (!!!!) before moving on to a european tour.

If you made it through this exhaustive history, thank you for your time. I yap a lot when it comes to this show XD Story-wise, the most major change from the books is that Rohan and Gondor are merged, which does a whole HOST of things to the stories of Boromir, Aragorn, Saruman, and Denethor. Denethor and Theoden are combined into one Steward character who is Boromir's father and ruling Gondor, but is under Saruman's spell like Theoden and dies nobly on the battlefield instead of giving in to despair. Aragorn also is even MORE of a reluctant king than in the movies and doesn't even reveal that he IS Aragorn until the end of act 1 when Boromir is dying!!!! He just goes by Strider until then!!! Otherwise, everything is pretty faithfully adapted, although it is HEAVILY abridged and a lot is cut out. Actually the musical is my favorite version of Aragorn and Arwen's relationship <333 they are SO cute and get so many great Yearning lines. The songs are all outstanding. Now and for Always is obviously the standout because of all the Hobbit Emotions, but Road Goes On and Cat and the Moon are also straight up bops, Legolas gets his disney princess moment with Lothlorien, Star of Ëarendili is a feast of overlapping parts and harmonies, Song of Hope duet is the peak romantic musical song, and Lament for Moria is an incredible somber tribute that is deeply true to the book. Gollum/Smeagol is an underrated gem imo because even though it's not that fun to listen to on the soundtrack, it is MINDBOGGLING in person. You know that bit in TTT where Gollum talks to himself with his two different personalities warring? This is that but a song. You get to watch that switch in front of your eyeballs and it is CRAZY. And then there's Wonder, which is just peak Tolkien Yearning. I could go on but this is already an ESSAY (sorry) so I will shut up now. Lmk if you want more ramblings :)) Also other blogs that have WEALTHS of information about the show and its various versions, if you care to peruse them (they're also all very lovely people (HI EMERALD MARY AND MO hope you don't mind being tagged)): @lordoftheringsmusical @nowandforalways @lotrmusical :)))

OH MY GOSH THE SILKS WOULD BE AMAZING! (That all sounds really interesting - I am definitely listening to the soundtrack and also OOOOOH actually I love the idea of it being hobbits retelling the story)

#lil the tolkien dork #🩷🩷🩷🩷

14 notes · View notes

avacadokin · 2 years ago

Note

Pssst I think you should write that fucked up fitpac thing

aughhhhhhhhhhhh fuck but im literally in the middle of writing another fitpac smut rn and ive got class, so instead im just gonna dump my ideas here and hopefully come back to them later

ok uh fuck pac uses his control over fit's mech dick (he made it after all) to overload fit with pleasure in purgatory to the point he cant fucking move at all, trapping him and taking him out of the fight until his 5 hours are up in purgatory.

or fit just fantasizing about how pac could do that, at any time just take advantage of his past trust and reduce him down to a pathetic moaning mess, taking him back to past encounters in 2b2t, how he successfully fought them off back then but wishing he wouldn't win for pac

fit going out to hunt, ambushing tubbo or some other blue team member not to realize that pac was there, killing the other blue but getting so low and his armor so broken he's completely at pac's whim, trying to run and falling horribly

fit getting called "big daddy" condescendingly by pac, just to rub it in his face how far he's fallen

a big fight between both blue and green ending with them being the only two left, covered in quickly drying blood of their friends and enemies (though at this point what's the difference?)

circling each other like starved dogs

ripping and tearing into each other pulling and scratching at anything they can reach when they finally collide

pac using the sharp hard edges of his prosthetic to kick fit wherever is closest, fit biting hard on his other knee to remind him how he lost his first

pac disconnecting fit's prosthetic arm, or just disabling it, he's repaired it enough times to know how to break it easily

tearing away his weapons and clothes, enabling some fun features he added like auto-lube and vibration before fucking fit on his own hand

pac hastily (he wants this to hurt) preps himself with fit's hand (slapping away the flesh one whenever it gets close) before shoving it back inside fit

if his prosthetic arm still had any feeling left in it it would burn from being trapped against the dirt beneath fit and from the angle his wrist must be at to get his fingers anywhere near his prostate (pac wishes it still had feeling)

pac getting fed up with the interference from fit's working hand, so he rearranges himself to pin it under his prosthetic leg, hoping the rough edges leave cuts and bruises, marking fit's entire body as his

then he sinks down onto fit's cock in one smooth motion (only lightly hampered by the blood dripping its way down from somewhere, pain is pleasure at this point so he doesn't care)

fit's hips buck up at the sensation, lifting pac up with him (the knowledge that he has so throughly conquered someone so strong does things to pac's brain)

one of pac's hands is busy restraining fit and acting as leverage for pac to fuck himself on fit's cock, but the other, pac brings up to the top of fit's bald head and scratches a bloody path from there, to his cheeks, over his pecs, and down his abs before resting atop pac's dick

pac gathers the pre-cum, blood and who knows what else that's settled there, before smearing it along a messy path up to fit's neck, where he just holds as he rides fit

when he feels fit cum inside him he doesn't stop, pac just grips even tighter onto fits throat, praying he's cutting off his airway as he rides to completion

then idk maybe they kill each other so they dont have to clean up, maybe they clean up and apologize and its terribly sweet for the situation they're in

#qsmp #fitmc #fit mech dick #yeah this actually turned into a whole story thing oops #this is very fucked up actually yeah please head the warnings #fitpac #this is not pg at all minors do not look #pactw #qsmp fic #qsmpnsft #bloodlust does something to my brain ok #anon #asks answered #artvocado #artvocado (writing)

28 notes · View notes

swanky-batman · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, will you be posting a new part to For Narnia??

Ask and you shall receive, no matter how delayed this may be. Sorry! ♥

For Narnia Part 10

Peter Pevensie x reader, Edmund Pevensie x reader

Picking up where Ed left in the last part and the quest continues for Y/N

**Please note since it's been a while since I've consistently written I have removed all tags except people for this storyline. If you would like to be added back to my all tags please let me know thank you!**

Masterlist

Beginning - Previous

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

Previously you and Ed had both taken turns leading but Peter seemed to be a better rider than you both so he had you hold on, at least you were able to help with the navigation and lookout aspects.

The terrain got a bit rocky nearing the end of the day however as you were going up a bit of altitude, you had to hold on greatly to Peter and you noticed you could feel him rumbling.

"Does the High King find this amusing?" You teased and giggled back.

"Perhaps." He mumbled with a chuckle, "Are you alright Princess?"

"I'll manage," You smirked, looking around. "We may need to find somewhere to stop soon."

"Agreed, I was hoping to get to that point there." He pointed, showing a point that seemed to offer a flat surface and some rocky overhang.

"Looks alright to me." You nod as you make your way there. You find an area off the exact path that should be big enough to hide your mount and both of you.

You don't go with a fire as you are worried of bringing attention to your area so cold food it was, you both sat and ate in silence.

------

He watched her closely throughout the day, still in shock that he had found them.

After dinner he realized it would be cold without the fire, he almost gulped to think about sleeping this close to Y/N.

For being in her current situation she seemed calm, if pondering inner monologue, he wasn't sure what to talk about with her… the last time before he found the evidence of a traitor it took everything in him not to kiss her. And now that either of them could talk without the barrier of an arranged marriage in between them it was odd.

Her eyes danced playfully, "What are you thinking of?"

He immediately gave a small smirk back, "Thinking of how much has changed and how much has stayed the same since the castle."

"Oh really?" She tilted her head and her hair swept with it a bit, "How so?"

"You're still resilient, brave and badass." He smirked stating it, "And more comfortable with Ed. And for different, you look more… prepared? Calm but fierce. I am very glad we are on the same side."

She giggled and it made him soar again, "I don't know how I still deserve to have you on my side but I'm glad you are as well." She paused looking out, "How strange that I was offered into an arranged marriage and ended up making the best friends I've ever had."

Peter bit his lip thinking about the situation as well, "We are ready to support you… I am ready to support you."

She gave a small smile, before looking back and meeting his eyes, "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you Pevensies." She finished her meal and they both agreed to try to get an early night's rest to start early in the morning.

He lay down, his back to Y/N as they found a little divot that protected them from the icy wind that now picked up around them and tried to sleep for a while, closing his eyes but alert to every noise. A long while later he heard Y/N.

"Are you asleep, High King?" Came in a whisper.

"No." He chuckled back his response, both of them turning to lay on their backs.

"It's pretty cold tonight." She spoke, shivering slightly, "I think that mixed with no extra cover from the trees is making me nervous. How about you?" She looked over to Peter.

"It's different, haven't had to sleep outdoors for a while." Peter spoke. "We could double up on blankets if you're cold."

She paused, shivering a bit more. "Would that be okay?" He nodded and they rearranged so they had one blanket under them both and extra blankets on top. He swallowed, being around her had already made him nervous but now she was even closer and butterflies were in his stomach. She rearranged for a moment and brushed against his arm which made the butterflies even more intense.

He tried to shake away the feeling, how could she think highly of him after the jump he made at the castle. It was more than enough that she seemed cordial with him.

"That already feels warmer, thanks." She seemed content, he could sense her near him.

"Glad to be of service, Princess." He managed to get out as he was focusing on his breathing.

"I owe you Pevensies more than ever." He could feel the smirk and playful tone in her voice.

He chuckled in response and almost jolted out of his skin as his arm was resting against the side of her arm. His heartbeat was loud and fast and he was almost worried she could hear it. "Get some rest for tonight." He whispered quietly.

"Good night High King." She whispered back.

"Good night Princess."

--------

You woke the next morning and to your surprise Peter was already up.

"Good morning High King," you mumble, "you seem to be a much earlier bird than your brother." You state with a smile as you rub your neck.

"Good morning Princess," he smiled to you, "I think I'm just more excitable outdoors." He chuckled, "although Ed can be quite harsh in the morning."

"Really?" You smirked back, "I mean sure he's a bit of a grizzly in the morning but he tried to hide it."

You started rolling the blankets up and Peter came over to help you, packing your bags back with everything you had.

"Onwards?" He asked as you nodded, normally you and Ed ate in the mornings but this may not be the best spot to anyways.

You both pushed on for hours, trying to scope out any spots to continue your path. At one point you both got off and started walking around an area to scope out how to cross.

A gurgle in your stomach drew Peter's attention, "Right, we should eat."

"I'm fine really, let's keep pushing." You blushed slightly since he seemed like he just wanted to get on with this travel and not stop.

"Too late, Princess." He smirked, unrolling one of the bags he got off the horse.

You sat there while he insisted on making a meal and you both ate, mostly in silence. You did catch him looking at you a few times and on the third decided to ask.

"Did I do something to offend you?"

He frowned, shaking his head. "No, why?"

"Between the silent treatment and the staring I figured I was horribly transformed from my travels or just awful company." You wagered.

"You are neither," he assured, giving a slight smirk.

You stared, prodding him for further response.

"I-" he moved his food and looked down, "I just keep thinking about how awful I was to you."

"When?" You scoffed, confused for a second before he gave you a look. "Ah. Right. Well, I don't think you were awful. You were taking precautions with the evidence you had."

"I immediately jumped to a conclusion without letting you defend yourself. I was so thrown that it was a possibility and I let my guard down around my family and myself. I'm so sorry," He stabbed at another piece of food as he frowned.

"Hey," you slowly move your hand over his, "It's okay, really. There isn't even anything to apologize for. Please," you meet his eyes, before giving a slight smirk, "make a truce with yourself, High King."

He stares into your eyes for a moment before you both hear some movements. You both quickly cover as much of your stop as you could and ducked into the pit of a larger tree nearby and covered yourselves to try and camouflage. You hear the sounds even louder and some voices, it sounded like a party of at least half a dozen. You felt Peter's hand move slightly to clasp yours and you both breathe lightly.

You both wait for what seems like a long enough time before slowly deciding to move.

"We need to press on a bit more and find a safe enough spot to hunker down." Peter mentioned quietly.

"Agreed," you help pack up and you both head out again pushing hard to get further for the day.

Once it's too dark to travel, you both stop.

"I think we're getting close." You mention as you absently start unrolling your blankets.

"I think another good day and we'll be at the first location." Peter agreed, also unrolling his blankets.

The night passes by fairly smoothly but first thing in the morning you wake with a start as you feel rain starting. Peter wakes as well and you both rush to pack up and start on the move. It starts pouring even heavier another half an hour out and you spot a rocky overhang that should be enough room to duck under for a bit and is semi covered by foliage.

You both strip what you can off to try and put up to dry and agree as it's fairly cold to start a small hidden fire for warmth and to try to dry.

"Of course we're delayed," Peter sighs as he leans back.

"I can't say I mind too much," you speak up, looking out, "I love when it rains."

"Do you?" He smirks over to you. "Well, what shall we do while we wait?"

"Mmmm," you think, and after a moment, "I think I have some wine in my bag somewhere from Ed. Or we can play ISpy. Or we can talk tactics or sword training." You smirk. "I'll leave it up to you."

In the end, you both found some small rocks and started going over tactics. After a while you also pop open the wine and start passing it back and forth while you discuss.

Then the drawing of the weapons, training back and forth. You had almost forgotten with everything going on how much you had learned on fighting. And that he and his brother had been the ones to teach you most of what you knew.

He went to strike and you couldn’t help but give a slight giggle when you blocked and his eyebrow raised.

“Very good, someone has been training.”

“Much to the dismay of your brother,” You lunge and he parries, too easily for your liking.

He strikes back and you start to buckle back to avoid the swing, falling back into the open unsheltered space and towards the mud. You hear a clang of metal drop as he reaches to try and catch you.

You both end up falling into a particularly muddy area with a weird wet plop.

You burst out laughing, rather loud before you reel it in and realize you’re still trying to be quiet. You hear Peter start laughing from next to you and you both turn to face each other and assess the amount of mud.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have tried that one,” He looks slightly concerned.

“Peter Pevensie, don’t you dare hold back on me!” You yell and laugh at him, he softens his look and goes back to chuckling. “I wouldn’t say no to some help getting up though, I feel fairly stuck.”

He stands after a few minutes, also fairly stuck it seems. He tries and fails to clear some of the mud from himself before offering a hand to you to help you up, a strong pull finally breaks you free and you are almost thrown into him.

—------

His heartbeat picks up immediately as he helps steady her after pulling her up. She still has remnants of a grin on her face from the fall and she is also covered head to toe in mud as the rain is still coming down but at a slightly slower pace than when they stopped.

She is the most beautiful person I have ever seen, he admits to himself at that moment. It almost startles him, the realization of how deep he feels about her as if she had just stabbed him directly in the heart.

“Well now we have to worry about getting clean and dry.” She breaks the silent moment, teasing him directly.

He tries to think of something witty in response, anything; but his mind is blank except the praises he has for her. His thoughts of… his eyes go to her lips and he unconsciously licks his.

A snap, out of the ordinary happens not far enough off. Panic sets into her features and his as she grabs his hand and pulls him running. 20, 30, 40 feet away from the noise and she finds a tree stump with a large hollow at the bottom and she quickly pushes him in and grabs multiple surroundings, he feels himself digging his feet into the muck to blend in.

Both of their heartbeats and breath are racing as she tucks into him, trying to lay flat. Part of her is directly on top of him and he struggles to push the feeling down as they both listen.

Hooves, and a short whistle go off back the way they came. They both hold their breath as they hear another set coming from the way they had been heading.

They both wait for a few minutes, which seem impossibly long as they hear horses neighing. Some parts of mumbling break through the otherwise quiet area.

He doesn’t know how long they lay there but at some point he realizes he is no longer waiting with bated breath for them to return. His thoughts, as if a force is guiding him, focus in on her.

Her breathing, now calm.

Her heartbeat, still fast and alert but not as fast as it had been.

Her left hand, tucked into his arm as she had fallen into him and grabbed his arm.

Her head, on his shoulder.

Her smell, still her. Even through the mud and very musty smell of the tree hollow.

And then another thought pops into his head, not as alarming -surprisingly- as the last. He loves her.

What to do with that thought, he was unsure but they sit here and wait and he continues to study her.

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

Narnia tags: *some were not able to be tagged*

@ttawny, @hopebaker, @viirgobbyy, @holybatflapexpert

#chronicles of narnia #cs lewis narnia #edmund pevensie #peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #fanfic

17 notes · View notes

mrscorcoran · 2 years ago

Text

One more secret won't hurt / Bunny x reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Notes: I saw a fancasting on pinterest and they put Dane Dehaan as Bunny, and like... yeah.

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

Chapter 4: Critters on my mind

The Sunday hike lifts my spirits after the overwhelming Saturday I had. After Judy left, and with half a bottle of wine inside of me, I was able to sit down at my desk and get some work done before going to bed. The Frankenstein essay remains unfinished (unstarted if I’m being honest), but that one’s due in a couple of weeks so I’m not too worried.

I decide to take one of the southern trails that goes behind the dorms. It covers a few miles of woods, then goes down a steep slope, leading to a small creek, then back up to come out near the cafeteria in the eastern side of campus. I take my camera with me in case I run into any critters. I like decorating my walls with photos of my little findings. My favorites are the frogs and newts near the water. But with the temperature going down a few degrees every week into autumn, I don’t expect to find many down by the creek.

Despite my efforts to focus on the hike and the beauty of nature surrounding me, I still find myself going back time and time again to wondering about the Greek class. Were they all really as awful as Judy said? Not that I don’t trust her, but actors can be a bit dramatic, specially when trying to prove a point. Do classics majors have a dress code? Maybe they just enjoy dressing like pretentious dorks. They look good though. I look like I belong in the woods, living under a toadstool. ‘Cottagecore’ some might call it. Though it’s not so different from what Camilla and Charles were wearing.

I photograph a few moths I find perched on tree trunks. I think I see a snake, slithering away under a bunch of dry leaves, but it’s gone before I can even point my camera at it. I wonder if Bunny likes critters too, being nicknamed after one.

I wonder if he likes hiking.

I wonder why I keep wondering about all these irrelevant things.

I scold myself every single time my mind wanders back to the mysterious boy.

I eventually reach the end of the trail and spot the cafeteria in the distance. From there, it’s another 20-minute walk across campus to my room. I don’t feel like interacting with anyone, so I lock the door once I’m inside my room and spend the rest of the day listening to music and rearranging my critter photos to accommodate the new ones on the wall. Hopefully, the new week will go more smoothly. Maybe going to classes will help push the Greek class away.

Thankfully it does work. With each passing day, I find myself spending less and less time thinking about them. It also helps that they seriously disappear inside the green building all day long, and campus is big, so I don’t see any of them around. I go to my classes, do my reading, hang out with Judy, and avoid her friends at my usual spots. The routine resets my brain to its normal settings. However, as Saturday approaches again, I notice I’m more eager than usual to go down to the library. There’s no guarantee they’ll even be there again. But the hope that they might carries me seamlessly to the end of the week.

I walk into the library, shaking with anticipation, and to my delight, I immediately spot them sitting at the same table, Bunny happily chatting away in a similar volume as the last time. I can feel my brain chemistry rearranging itself and wonder if I should start taking some meds after all.

#the secret history #bunny corcoran #bunny x reader #this ones very rambly sorry #richard papen #francis abernathy #camilla macaulay #charles macaulay #henry winter

32 notes · View notes

myloveforhergoeson · 1 year ago

Note

Basorexia and Brontide. 😉

hi bestie <3333 here is basorexia: an overwhelming desire to kiss and brontide: the low rumbling of distant thunder :)

At the pool, Roxy's ears perked up at the sound, a deep grumbling coming from somewhere in the distance. In what felt like an instant, the once-sunny California sky was covered in angry gray clouds, ruining the afternoon for nearly all of the Palm Woods teen residents and their precious weekend time.

To save themselves from getting soaked by the rain, instead of soaking in the pool like they'd desired, Big Time Rush and their friends reluctantly made their way up to 2-J to see if there was anything worthwhile on the TV to take their minds off their ruined outing.

While it normally took the band, their assistant, and Jo and Camille ages to pick something out if they were all together, the rain beginning to come down outside seemed to influence their decision.

As Logan flipped through the channels, and the soft drops of rain began to tap at the windows, Jo suggested, "How about something spooky?"

After she finished, a large clap of thunder eminated from the sky above, as though someone, or something, had approved of her choice.

Though the writer took note as Logan flinched at the suggestion, she and what seemed like most of her friends agreed with the girl's idea. Carlos even got up and raced to the light panel, switching off all of the lights in the apartment. Now, the only traces left to help them see anything were the intermittent flashes of lightning and the soft TV glow as Logan continued to surf.

"Oh! There!" Camille pointed out a show, Adventures with Ghosts, that was starting in just a few minutes. "I'm trying out for a ghosthunting show parody and this could be an excellent character study!"

Despite most of their friends, namely Kendall and James, letting out a scoff at her request, they were at Logan's mercy, and he certainly wasn't about to argue with Camille.

So, everyone huddled onto the large orange sectional, Adventures with Ghosts began, and the worst hour of television any of them had ever seen began to roll.

Within the first ten minutes, a deep dive into the history of the episode's haunted location, James was snoozing away on his girlfriend's shoulder.

Roxy didn't think much of it, and was slightly interested to learn more about ghostly beliefs after her strange dream about being one just before Halloween, the hosts' storytelling just grew more and more convoluted. Spinning a complicated web that just seemed to tangle together and connect completely unrelated things at the location to one another to justify the paranormal investigation.

That's about when she tapped out too, bringing her cheek to rest on James' soft hair while she closed her eyes, trying to focus on the sounds outside. Though the rain continued to tap at the glass beside them, the thunder seemed to have rolled on, off to terrorize another part of Los Angeles.

That was nice, until one of the hosts of the show began screaming expletives into the pitch-black void in front of them. Had Roxy actually been a ghost, that certainly would have pissed her off enough to knock a flower vase off a table or menacingly rearrange some furniture, as their friend Stephanie had attempted to terrorize the five with.

Instead of focusing on that, the girl snuggled deeper into her boyfriend, bringing one finger to her ear to block out all the necessary shouting from the stereo system in front of her. Attempting to let her mind wander, she took a few slow breaths, before James shifted beside her. It was only a matter of time before the slow rise and fall of his chest against her arm brought the mess of her inner workings to him - More specifically, her favorite time they'd been cuddled on 2-J's couch.

The week Griffin had disbanded Big Time Rush ahead of the release of their first album and nationwide tour had been the worst week of Roxy's life. She'd experienced a whole range of emotions, often changing so fast it was giving her whiplash, between moving back to the Midwest, before moving back to Los Angeles again, fighting with her friends, being kidnapped... Though, throughout it all, James had been her rock.

Especially their first night back in 2-J, when she'd broken down in front of him for the very first time. While voicing her feelings didn't come easy to her, she much preferred to work them out in the pages of her songbook, something about that night had been different, overwhelming to the point where she couldn't hold it in any longer and the storm of tears began.

That night, he'd cradled her tightly in his arms, assuring her that no matter what, it was them against the world.

You and me, Roxy. That's all we need.

Even now, months later, she could practically feel the soothing circles he'd rubbed into her back while she sobbed into his t-shirt, the sensation of his hands cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears, the plush of his chest as she fell asleep in his embrace.

Roxy should have known right then and there that they were destined to be together, but she was too blinded by her own worries to think straight.

I should have kissed him. She thought, finally able to look back on the situation with a newfound level of clarity. Anyone within a thousand-mile radius was probably able to feel the waves of affection radiating off of him that night. And I'll never miss the opportunity to kiss him again.

And judging by the flip turn of her stomach at the mental vow, right now was also one of those moments.

Carefully, Roxy lifted her cheek from James', and pressed her lips to the top of his head.

#thats all she wrote fic #icegirl2772 #<3 #did not reread sorry if there are many errors !

5 notes · View notes

miloscat · 1 year ago

Text

[Review] Avatar The Last Airbender: Bobble Battles (PC)

A budget licensed RTS, it's about what you'd expect.

Frima Studio is a successful French Canadian developer: over the years they've done lots of casual, Flash, and mobile games, as well as some console stuff. I just found out they're working on a Risk of Rain spinoff currently. But one of their first jobs was making a tie-in Avatar strategy game in 2007, and they did it competently enough.

Based on Books 1 and 2 of the show, Bobble Battles takes its name from the "bobblehead" art style, better known as chibi or super deformed, which was employed in a few other spinoff projects like animated shorts, comics, and video games. It's an appealing look and helps a bit with readability of the characters when you're zoomed out (although character design could have differentiated common unit types a lot more), but you can't appreciate the look too well unless you're zoomed in, in which case the game is much less playable.

As a real-time strategy game in the vein of your Warcrafts and Dune 2s, it's been simplified and streamlined to the nth degree. There's only one resource, no upgrading, a handful of unit types that act identically between factions, and a basic control scheme. The limited nature of the controls hurt it as moving between the arrow keys to shift your view and the numbers for control groups is uncomfortable. Those are pretty much your only functions by the way; there's no attack-move or other specialised move commands, although hero units do have more flashy attacks.

I'm no RTS die-hard but even having played a bit of Starcraft and Age of Empires back in the day I couldn't help but find Bobble Battles wanting in gameplay. There's no rally points, few hotkeys, and just getting your units to do anything is a hassle. Selecting control groups instantly shifts the camera over to them, there's always a pause before they execute your commands, and they need to be heavily micromanaged to attack targets. Pathfinding in narrow spaces can be atrocious, with your guys often milling around or getting stuck on walls when you're on a city-based level. On the whole there's a lot of pain points in the micro scale, and little need for macromanagement at all. I understand the desire to create a game in this genre for younger audiences, but it's not just dumbed down, it feels shonky and shallow.

The game is structured in three campaigns. The first two more or less cover the heroes' journey through the first two seasons of the show, while the third has you playing as the Fire Nation trying to stop them. After completing these you unlock the Timeline mode, which rearranges the scenarios into chronological order... this seems superfluous. The missions do try to have some variety between small-scale hero exploration and production maps and to give you different kinds of objectives. They do a decent job at this, although the scope never gets very big. The most that will ever be demanded of you is juggling three control groups to defend three settlements that are pretty close together, but again this is baby's first RTS so I don't knock it for lacking difficulty.

As an Avatar game, it's kind of cool seeing events from the show reinterpreted into a new genre. You rarely had squads of people running around battling in the series, so there's some novelty to that. The characters having unique abilities is fun, and I got a kick out of seeing the designs of building and units between the nations. There's even one unique creature here, the goat-like mount that Water Tribe riders use. [EDIT: This beast does actually appear briefly in the North Pole episodes.] Only covering two-thirds of the show is a bit of a letdown, although to be fair it's an unavoidable consequence of the passage of time and when the game was commissioned. Can't argue with the immutable laws of time and space.

Bobble Battles is essentially fine. It works. There's even some creativity in how it's interpreting the source material and in the scenarios, but by attempting to simplify what is generally a complex genre, I think they went too far and actually hurt the playability. And that's before mentioning the dodgy behaviour of your units. It gets points for its uniqueness within the sphere of Avatar games, but it's hard to recommend except for completionists like me, and they would just play it anyway so it doesn't matter what I say about it!

#avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender bobble battles #frima studio #review #pc

2 notes · View notes

3eep · 10 months ago

Text

13.09.2024 Why I draw

I've been in an art block for the last couple of years, maybe since I started doing art as a job, and I think I finally figured out why and how to get out of it, I thought about writing this privately or not writing it at all but it may be useful to anyone that may be going through the same thing.

I knew I had some kind of art block or burn out for a while now, but I never stopped drawing because of my job or because I wanted to keep moving my personal projects forward even if it was little by little, I also never stopped because I've had small instances of art block in the past and resting never helped, it just kinda gets me out of it when I rest, it stops the groove, the inspiration, something like that. I've watched a bunch of videos on the subject and some things have helped but I don't think I have overcome this burn out/art block combo entirely (some of the things that helped a little were to turn off social media or any distraction, focus on my end goals, stop overthinking the process of drawing and just get to it, going back to draw the subjects that interested me when I was the most productive and inspired, rearranging my art space, trying other media, having my tools close and ready to use, etc.)

But just today I came across two videos that covered a different subject: that you don't really need skill to make a hit as an artist, they pretty much said what you would guess: expand your drawing subjects, try new things, do marketing, etc. There's also a big point that as a comic artist I've always been aware about, what people end up caring the most about is the content of your art, the story you're telling, the emotions you're evoking, the connection they can make with you through your art, it's all about feeling connected and understood. And I agree, my favorite artists are the ones that bared their hearts and personality to the public as much as they could, I know this is what makes art good, I can look at the scribble of a child and tbh as long as they left a part of them in that scribble, as long as they drew it with all their heart I can tell it's good art.

But I don't want to do that.

I never wanted to do that, I've always resisted the idea of baring myself to a bunch of strangers, I hate the idea of performing as myself to entertain everyone else, I'm not even interested in being perceived, I always thought there had to be another way to make it as an artist without opening up, but now those videos confirmed to me that doing just that is inherently the key to making good art, to make a hit; I have to accept it even if I don't want to do it...... but do I really lack the basic human need for connection and communication we all inherently have? Do I really not want to connect? to open up? I actually don't feel I don't want to connect entirely, so who do I want to connect with? who do I draw my comics for if not for my self?

why do I make art?

if right now I drew something with the sole purpose of showing it to someone else, connecting and baring a piece of myself, who would I want it to be for? I do feel the need to connect, but only with my friends--

My friends. this is who I want to draw for.

I've been burnt out because I stopped drawing for the only reason I wanted to draw: to connect with my friends. I want to show them who I am, what I like, what I think, how I feel. Fan art? I want to show my friends the shows I like and how I percieve them. Comics? I want to make comics that make them laugh and relate to the stories, I do want my friends to see all of me, no wonder why I was so burnt out ever since I started taking art as my job, I was just drawing for money, I never cared about that, and even in my personal projects I was just drawing for numbers, I never really cared about that either; but the thought of drawing something for the sole purpose of showing the result to my friends seems infinitely more appealing than everything else.

I have yet to proove it but I'm sure this is how I'll get out of this art rut, I remember the times when I was full of passion and drive to make art and specially comics, it was in middle school, I couldn't draw my comics fast enough to show my friends, I drew so many comics back then, it is also when I started posting online, I wanted to show my friends what I was doing even if I didn't have them right in front of me, that connection with my friends has always been my drive to draw, I've always been ecstatic to show my drawings to them even today, I just had to remember my motivations and be aware of why I draw.

#beep tales #text post #art block #pos2

1 note · View note

hospitalterrorizer · 10 months ago

Text

diary358

9/12-23/24

thursday - friday

did not read today.

today has been an up and down for music, started very frustrating, like, oh my god, why does this song sound like shit, and then trying to fix that, giving up, trying again 10 minutes later, and then figuring something out after a while that i really really liked, finding that this sound was hard to get into the project file and would cause crashes every time i pasted it in, so i had to paste the rest of the song into the file with the sound and then i got that to work and that was annoying but really made me happy because i think i how that song sounds a lot more now but i guess let me try again. i think this guitar sound is maybe one of my favorites... i do really like it but something does sound a little off, i also rearranged the riff, maybe the issue is i eq'd out too many lows and then mixed the guitars too high? i dunno, or something up with the eq i put on the group master of the guitar + a recording of it to pan it wider, i dunno i dunno. it's always tough, i guess the issue is.... it feels maybe thin but also like it comes from nowhere? it's hard to get stuff to fit, it feels like it kind of sits in one spot, is that just because not enough is covering it up at other points? i think that's an interesting issue, maybe it has to do with the drums? maybe i can lower the amount of high end? that could help, that has helped in the past... that and maybe i need to stick the abbey road saturator on it? i dunno. a lot to try, i just need it to feel more physically present within the song is how i'm thinking of it, maybe it really is the guitars? and the bass... it's so so so weird. the bass has maybe a little too much high end content and doesn't play nicely with the sound.

it's 7 am... but i'm gonna try to lower the highs of the guitar sound and see if that helps, plus some other stuff.

also, since that sound couldn't be pasted into anything else, i had to figure out why it was not working and get that to be better, even with a different plugin trying to get a similar sound, i think i got it, though it does sound a little better with the one that crashes. which is bizarre. must be a strange interaction or somethingggg.

i think the song sounds a little better but the high pass over the high end isn't really working, it doesn't sound sharp enough... but when it sounds sharper maybe it's... i dunno, too much white noise making it a little less sharp also? i think i'm gonna try... again... and then after that, no matter what, sleeping.

wow i think i got it actually. that's crazy.

okay, like i said, i'm gonna go to sleep, not much else today, got really stuck on that... like a crazy person would.

i did work on another song too, i think that's coming out a lot more,,, it's not freaked up sounding to me, at least, right now,

oh and today is the big day, for the cassettes, i'll probably be annoying about that in some places today... wow... how fun...

anyway,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1 note · View note

shizamura · 1 year ago

Note

22, 23, D for the Kirchhoff brothersssss

22: How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

If talking about interpersonal relationships, I think I'd have to go say Mikhail is probably obvious about being jealous and prolly gets a little possessive. Probably gets a little on the angry side and trying to get more attention, in a way which would probably just be detrimental to him and the relationship. Because he's not exactly the type to admit he wants to be in one, but would absolutely get jealous anyway, as if he's entitled to people.

On the other hand, I don't see Nikita as being a jealous type. Pretty sure he enjoys being the center of attention, but probably wouldn't let jealousy get in the way of something. Or maybe if it happened it could get solved with a punch and then you move on???

23: How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

STEALING IS ALWAYS AN OPTION if any of them would go as FAR as to even admit to themselves that ENVY is a thing that exists or even further, that it is possible to desire what other people have like auahuaha what why would I want THAT I don't need it, that's silly, I'm perfectly content [steals it] I just uh

Question for creators time:

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

There have been some trait that never really changed - Nikita was always covered in beauty marks, short, big eyelashes and curly-ish hair. Mikhail always a tall blonde. But other than that, they've been in at least two different stories of mine before I rearranged them for O Sarilho, so you can guess how pretty much everything else changed.

BUT HEY AT SOME POINT THEY WERE MAGICAL BOYS WHO LOOKED LIKE THIS

QUESTIONS FROM THIS BOY

#LEMME TELL YOU ABOUT MY OCs #wapy thoughts

1 note · View note

cavernelf · 1 year ago

Text

steam library challenge: Final Fantasy Tactics tWotL

time played: 32 hours rating: 9/10 quick review: a REALLY good introduction to strategy rpgs! finished 12/29/23

I started playing FFT in about September and finished the game almost at the very end of December.

I've played Fire Emblem before so I have some idea of strategy rpgs, but this was the first time playing one that I actively had trouble in battles and would have to rearrange units, try different characters, and different strategies. Really loved this game! Ramza is a wonderful protagonist.

I do have a few gripes about the game that would come up from time to time:

The scope of the game is big, and there are a lot of characters. A lot are not remarkable, but were important to the story, and often you would be introduced to someone and then not see them again for 3 chapters, and were expected to remember their role and name

In that vein, [and this is less FFT and more the medieval wartime genre of storytelling], the story was difficult to follow pre-auricite introduction. You'd meet a character like Lord Vrinkle Duke of House Galbronza, and Ramza would give a bit of exposition on how this guy helped his father back in the day in the days of the War of Yonderling Plains, and then Lord Vrinkle betrays you a chapter later because he's actually been working for His Excellency Duke Lorelei who is your enemy, but you don't remember who that is because he was only mentioned once last chapter. Things were a bit easier to understand chapters 3 and onward.

My #1 criticism with the game itself is that the limited camera movement during a battle sometimes made it actually impossible to see where units were. The terrain often covered up possible spots and some maps, no matter which way you rotate the camera, make it impossible to see all squares on the map.

My #2 criticism is similar, sometimes I would move a unit thinking I could reach an enemy but would be just a square or two off. Being able to take back movement would have been a lifesaver.

Anyway, despite my points of contention, I highly enjoyed the game and would consider it a title I would replay. I also am very interested in checking out other Tactics games, and trying out the other FFT games in the series.

#fft #fft wotl #final fantasy #final fantasy tactics #war of the lions #text #steam library challenge

0 notes

lecheroustaint · 1 year ago

Text

Before his son made it big in the NBA, Javier lived a very dedicated (albeit sometimes boring) steady life. When he and his wife found how the natural talent their son had, their lives were centered on giving everything they could to to guarantee his success. In hindsight, it was all worth it with him being on of the league youngest and brightest stars. This isn't to say the work didn't come with some sacrifices. Free time more often than not was dedicated to training camps, team practices, or even tournaments. The lack of personal time meant his sex life with his wife, while it may have been on life support to begin with, was official dead in the water. Truthfully, it didn't hit Javier as bad he thought it would. His naturally high libido went dormant after years of running his life. Every so often though, alluring whispers from the void would creep into his ear. Sometimes he could get his prude of a wife him on top of her but more often than not, Javi was having to drain his own balls. That was all before Anali entered his life. She was like shot of adrenaline directly into his beating heart. Javier truly didn't think much would come from this other than Anali fueling his jerk off sessions. There was just something, almost reminiscent of twinkle in eye, that kept Javi hovering around long enough for until the foundations of the dam holding his pent up sexual frustration came crashing down. Flood is pretty much the perfect word considering Javi has yet to pull out from cumming inside his son's baby mama. One might think he old man is trying his best to knock the young mother up again with how relentless he is with his constant need to drain his balls into her.

And tonight is no different. Javier has gotten to the point where it's become increasingly difficult to not think about his hypothetical daughter in law. It's almost too easy to simply play the part of 'good' grandfather to his grandchildren while his son is off across the country for the NBA season. From years of neglect from his wife to now having a young, fertile body that he can go to milk out and frustration. It's spoiling him and creating an addiction that he isn't quite sure he can shake. He tells himself he can stop any time he wants to, stop leading his dick and stop this juvenile behavior. That's until he gets on top of Ana and having her sweet chorus of moans ringing in his ear as if it's his favorite song. With every sloppy, deep stroke into her clenching cunt, whatever lingering conscience melts away into her velvety walls. If his meathead of a son isn't going to want Anali the same way he does, why should he stop? He gives himself away with how possessive he is of her already, even without words. It's the way he insists to use his vulgar haunch of meat as a battering ram to rearrange her guts and knock against her cervix. Or the way his calloused finger tips sink themselves into her tender flesh so harshly so that he leaves her riddled with his own personal brand of love marks. "Oh, Mija. What a nasty little girl you are." There's an oddly sweet tone to his otherwise demeaning words. Javi has never been with a squirter before though he'd be lying if his fat cock didn't throb at the feeling of her juices splashing onto him. "You're not sorry. Not yet, at least..." The older male takes a moment to pull himself completely out of her spasming hole with a sickening slosh. Taking his slick covered cock, he slaps his meaty length against cunt, making a few rounds over her aching clit before he's pushing back with violent intent. "If you're going to make a mess over Daddy then it's going to be one worth remembering." It's a torrid pace of thrusts that resume on her hungry hole that he knows is especially sensitive at this point. "C'mon then, don't hold back. Stop fighting the feeling." There's a dramatic change in the way the sounds of pounding flesh intensify. The sounds of bed creak and bang as he ruts into her slick cunt, trying his best to not blow his load just yet. As divine as her pussy feels, Javi needs to see how far he can push and how hard he can make the young girl squirt.

she’s two for two on the fucked up relationship front. with the father of her children, a picturesque life had fooled her into a false sense of security. with javier , she had done little to prevent the escalation of their depravity. she as completely complicit in her own corruption. no one seemed to question javi's involvement with anali because he's played the part of loving grandfather so well. it wasn't until he helped her with an errand at her home that she realized he wanted her, right around they finished a glass of wine and he pinned her down on her kitchen table to fuck her until she screamed so loudly she woke up the twins. since then, not even the guilt of sleeping with the grandfather of her kids could stop her from lusting after him. though the way he used her body certainly left her with more reservations than her guilt, purely because she was never really sure she could take him. yet with enough effort, he somehow managed to stuff his lengthy, thick cock inside her tight little cunt every time. just like tonight. the sounds they make are obscene, pushing anali deeper and deeper into that trance-like euphoria of overtly intense sensations. he adds to that pleasurable torment too quickly for the petite woman to protest or process. his fingers increased the speed with which they tortured that delicate bundle of nerves, and if that wasn't enough to make her vision fucking blur, he puts her in a mating press that allows him to bury his cock so deep within her body it knocks the breath out of her. it's a good thing javi's grandchildren are with his son because the volume of anali's moans once she found her voice would have frightened the children awake again. his warning scared her, she knew he wasn't bluffing and she knew she wasn't going to muster up any composure at his point. ana didn't even think leaving her with any dignity was on the table. anali tightened around his length involuntarily as he pistoned in and out of her, her cervix aching as that frighteningly pleasurable tightening in her womb pushed her closer and closer to the point of breaking. then she feels the warm wet of his tongue lap at her cheek. the casual act of perverse decadence causes her to bare down so forcefully that small spurts of arousal start to gush from a set of holes already drenched in her juiciness. sweat-slicked skin flushes beautifully with shame, her eyes glassy as the sobs peak. the frantic babbling barely coherent just like she was; an apologetic mess. "fuck, 'm sorry daddy. i can't! ah-mmphm, sorry sorry—"

#[ i want you to know i tried really fcking hard to keep this short ]#[i also had to tackle it slowly so it made it even worse ]#[ sorry sorry sorry ]#putaaas

5 notes · View notes

mrscorcoran · 3 months ago

Text

One more secret won't hurt/ Bunny Corcoran x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Chapter 4: Critters on my mind

I wonder if he likes hiking.

I wonder why I keep wondering about all these irrelevant things.

I scold myself every single time my mind wanders back to the mysterious boy, unable to pinpoint what about him draws me in so much.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

#reposting as this has been heavily edited since originally posted #the secret history #tsh #bunny #bunny x reader #bunny corcoran #bunny x you #henry winter #camilla macaulay #charles macaulay #francis abernathy #richard papen #ao3 fic #fanfic #ao3

0 notes

sabraeal · 4 years ago

Text

Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 5

[Read on AO3]

Written for @vfordii‘s birthday which was....five months ago. BUT LISTEN, it’s still better than last year’s six months so like...improvement. IMPROVEMENT.

“You know why I called you here.” The Marshal’s voice is soft, barely louder than the hum of the fluorescents. “I presume.”

Shirayuki catches herself at the edge of her seat, chest pitched forward, neck craning to decipher every word and--

She settles back with a frown. Even a PhD isn’t a defense to the cheapest tactic on the pop-psych bookstore self-help shelf, it seems. Worse, Izana knows it, his mouth tipped so subtly toward a smile. And now he knows she knows it, and--

Her mug has gone cool, but it’s at least a credible distraction, a convenient way to buy some time and save face. Not something she ever expected she’d care about. Doesn’t mean she won’t take the opportunity.

“Zen.” The ceramic clacks like a shot as she sets it down. “You want to talk about the drift.”

“Yes.” He breathes, long and labored. “And no. I want him back in the cockpit.”

Come see me at your earliest convenience, his email had said, practically polite by PPDC standards. Manners atrophied when a body spent so much time in the higher altitudes of the chain of command. I’d like to discuss a few things with you.

She’d known what this would be about. What it was always going to be about. And still--

Shirayuki is still disappointed. “You have to be joking. It took him three years to get him into a jaeger at all, and you want to just...push him right back in.”

“No,” he hums, fingers still and steepled over his desk. “I want you to do it.”

There are rules of engagement for tangling with the Marshal. Voices are to be kept low, steady. Think before speaking. Don’t react. Showing an emotion in front of Izana Wisteria would be as good as handing him a rope to hang her with. “I’m not his commander.”

His fingers knit, knuckles popping in the silence-- “I know that, Doctor.”

Her own are curled into fists; at least then he can’t see them shaking. “Then I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to do your job,” he tells her, with only a pause for breath before he does. “I am merely suggesting that it is far past time to remove the kid gloves you have been handling him with.”

Her fists clench, hard enough to leave vivid crescents in the meat of her palms. “I believe I’m the judge of that.”

“Of course.” Every word drips with insincerity. “But I’m sure a little encouragement from you would--”

“I’ll do what’s necessary for the health of my patient,” she informs him, words clipped. “You’re not my commander.”

Izana stills, gaze riveted to her. “I am well aware of that, doctor. But I need him in a jaeger yesterday.”

“You’ve needed him in a jaeger for the past three years.” Shirayuki bolts to her feet, and oh, if only she could locate at least another foot of height, she might be able to finally have the high ground in one of these arguments. “I don’t see what the rush is now.”

His voice doesn’t raise above a pleasant chat, but bitterness weighs down every word. “You should.”

Shirayuki doesn’t believe in violence. Or rather, violence is a choice, and she doesn’t believe in choosing it unless no other option remains that causes less harm, but, well--

She’s got a very short list of people who deserved a black eye, and Izana Wisteria sorely tempts her to put his name on it. “What do you mean by that?”

The Marshall is all tense lines behind the battlement of his desk, a buttress against the fall. “Aren’t you a part of K-Science?”

The only distinction that mattered in the dome was between combatants and non; that a licensed therapist fell more into the ‘administration’ box rather than ‘research scientist’ was the least of their concerns. At least as far as the placement of her office. “Tangentially.”

“Well then.” His tension washes away like debris after the storm. “It’s all in the numbers.”

Shirayuki has been trained extensively in conflict resolution, in effective communication, in managerial manipulation, and still, still-- annoyance dogs her every step, nipping at her heels as she loses herself in the dome’s labyrinth of corridors. For once it would be nice to leave the Marshal’s office with something more like a sense of purpose and less like a reprieve in shoving boulders up a muddy hill in Tartarus, but this far into her tenure with the PPDC, she knows better than to hope for impossible asks. It’s not a new feeling by any means-- there’s certainly a hole worn in her heart for just this sort of fruitless anger and a monkey on her back with Izana Wisteria’s face, but he’s certainly devised an entirely new way to get her hackles up today.

Long limbs insinuate themself next to hers, a white-clad arm weaving its way around her elbow. She looks up-- not far-- into a pearl white, movie star grin.

“Well, well,” Yuzuri lilts, halfway between a drawl and singsong. “Someone’s looking stormy.”

Shirayuki doesn’t know how tall a person has to be to be considered thunderous, but if the crinkle to Yuzuri’s eyes are any indication, she’s well below the mark. “I was meeting with the Marshal.”

Yuzuri swings a single, impressed note. “Yeah, that’d do it. Or, I’d imagine it would. Not like he asks to see many of us in K-Science.”

Funny, she doesn’t say, since he’s so comfortable quoting your data. “You should probably count yourself lucky on that one.”

“Oh, yeah.” Yuzuri waves a hand, bangles jangling down her wrist. “Garrack handles him. Honestly, I think she enjoys the aggravation.”

Knowing Garrack like she does, Shirayuki certainly wouldn’t discount it.

Slender fingers flick out a sharp snap. “Hey, maybe you can send her the next time you need to deal with His Majesty. I’m sure she’d kill for a distraction just about now.”

“Oh, no! I’m-- I don’t need any help, it’s just...” She frowns, rifling through the satchel slung over her shoulder. She hardly has anything in it-- lip balm, her notes, a pack of tissues, her civilian identification, her wallet-- but still, her keys are shifted underneath the whole of her life, jingling just out of her reach.

It’s a metaphor, probably, but her love affair with literature is at too much of a standstill these days for her to bother unpacking it. Not when it’s probably going to end in her storming back into the Marshal’s office and demanding he show her some form of respect if he expects her to do her job.

Yuzuri’s mouth curls into a sly smile. “He’s top brass that’s used to having full grown adults ask how high rather than why?”

“That’s part of it,” she admits begrudgingly. “But it would also be nice if he could say what he means, instead of--youch!”

Metal teeth digging painfully into her palm, but she holds on anyway, dragging the ring right out, hair ties and all.

“Instead of...?” Yuzuri prompts, far too amused.

She heaves a sigh, plucking rubber bands off her hand. “Making it all some sort of...logic block word puzzle.”

Blonde brows slant skeptically. “I thought you loved those things.”

“For fun. Not for...” She waves a hand, keys jingling and brightly as Yuzuri’s bangles. “...Professional conversations. I’m not here for his entertainment. I don’t have time for-- for games!”

“Not when you could be doing your actual job.”

“Right.” Her actual job, which has almost exclusively been managing Zen’s feelings regarding Izana for months now. “And now he wants me to...“

She hesitates, teeth sinking into her lip. Outside the dome, patient confidentiality is the backbone of her profession, but here, when everyone eats and breathes and lives on top of one another--

“Lemme guess,” Yuzuri drawls, “get that boy in a pilot seat?”

-- it’s impossible. “I just wish he would show some faith.”

“In you?”

“No.” That’s asking far too much from a man who has only ever trusted as far as the drift could take him. She heaves a sigh, flyaways fluttering in her peripherals. “In Zen.”

A laugh huffs out of Yuzuri. “That’s asking a bit much from an older brother, don’t you think?”

Shirayuki has never, strictly, had a sibling. Ryuu certainly straddles the line between friend, colleague, and family, but she’s never doubted his drive, or the rigorous course of his research. He wouldn’t be her first choice to stand in front of the PPDC committee and defend her findings, but in a pinch, she would trust him wholeheartedly, with no reservations, to do the job.

That does not seem to be the unifying sibling experience. “Is it?”

Yuzuri grins. “You are definitely an only child.”

She restrains her scowl to a disapproving frown. “Maybe, in this case, that’s a good thing.”

They turn down a corridor, and relief floods into her-- this is it, the hall that holds her office at the end. She takes a step forward, but Yuzuri holds her back, gaze fixed leagues away.

“Do you really think he’ll do it?” She blinks, eyes finally focusing down on Shirayuki. “You really think he’ll get back in that jeager?”

“Yes.”

Yuzuri recoils, blinking. “Wow, no hesitation on that one, huh?”

“None,” she agrees, a smile lingering at the edge of her lips. “I know Zen might be hurting right now after--” the most disastrous drift she’s witnessed in her entire career-- “everything, but he...”

She takes in a breath, putting her back to her door. “No matter what happens, Zen always does the right thing.” It’d been that unwavering moral compass that had drawn her to him, a shining bright light among the downtrodden heart of the dome. “He may need a little time to pick himself back up, dust himself back off, but he knows that one day, he’ll have to sit down and talk this out, not run--”

“But not today, it looks like.” Yuzuri’s hand darts right over her shoulder, plucking something off her door.

Shirayuki blinks, letting the yellowed square of paper come into focus.

Something came up. Rain check ~Z

She stares, fingers numb as she swipes the scrap out of Yuzuri’s hands.

“That sunovabitch,” she grits out, paper dinting beneath her grip. “He’s avoiding me.”

“So.” Yuzuri cocks her head, mouth stretching wide. “Wanna grab some grub?”

“I’m just saying.” Suzu’s hand scribbles across a napkin, dropping symbols more arcane than any rift. “If I could just get any of the brass to take a good look at this, things would be different.”

“Different how?” Kazaha drawls, accusation dripping from every word. At least, that’s how it sounds-- it hadn’t taken Shirayuki long to realize that’s just how the man speaks, every phoneme meant to cut glass. The asshole accent, Yuzuri calls it. “Does this somehow improve the quality of life in the dome? The world? The--?”

“It’ll certainly improve my quality of life if I don’t have to hear about it,” Yuzuri deadpans. “C’mon, we’re eating dinner. Let’s put the toys away.”

“It’s not a toy, it’s a tool,” Suzu grumbles, finishing it with a flourish. “And if we used it, we’d know when the kaiju would show up, instead of just waiting for them to wade into the Sea of China or whatever.”

That, at least, gets the team to bow their heads over it, passing around frowns and furrows alike.

“If that was the case,” Kazaha sniffs, pushing it away. “Garrack Gazelt would have already put this in front of the Marshal.”

Suzu scowls, yanking it back. “You know that none of those jarheads appreciate good science! Until I get this paired up with some pretty little graphs, I might as well be speaking Japanese.”

Izuru perks up at that. “Doesn’t the Marshal speak Japanese?”

“That’s besides the point.”

“Hm.” Ryuu squirms next to her, craning his head over the napkin. “I think you’re missing a variable.”

“Impossible.” Suzu stares down at it. “Just look here--”

Shirayuki glances down, letters and numbers do-si-doing between roots and over fractions. Izana might shove her office all the way down in K-Science, but that certainly didn’t give her the training to decipher this little bit of mathematical prognostication.

Suzu pitches forward, felt-tip pen rolling across his knuckles in a bit of sleight-of-hand she would have never thought him capable of. “--you’ll see that by putting ‘a’ over ‘n’ squared--”

“All right.” Yuzuri’s fingers knit in the cotton of his button-down, dragging him back down onto the bench with a thump. “I think we’ve had quite enough of that.”

With a lift of his brows, Suzu’s face shifts from fox to puppy in eight muscles flat. “But, Yuzuri--”

“No buts.” Her fingers pluck the pen out of his, dropping it back into a pocket with a firm, warning pat. “Now, as I was trying to say: His Highness is avoiding you.”

Shirayuki blinks, gaze dragging up to where Yuzuri waits with an impatient smirk. “N-no! That’s not it at all. Something probably came up--”

“Izana’s avoiding you?” Suzu swings a wide, gaping stare at her. “Didn’t you just have a meeting today? What did you do to him?”

Her hands fly up, waving off the accusation. “Ah, no, I didn’t--”

“No, not His Majesty, His Highness,” Yuzuri corrects, blowing on a spoonful of the mess’s finest chicken noodle. “And he is avoiding you, which is bullshit.”

She has to bite her cheeks to keep her lips from peeling back into a grimace. “Zen has lots of work to keep him busy--”

“What work?” Kazaha scoffs, meticulously cutting his chicken into bite-sized pieces. “He’s a ranger without a co-pilot. It’s not like he can just jump into a jaeger and fight kaiju with half a working mecha.”

Yuzuri swivels toward him, hands held out with a level of emphasis Shirayuki can’t help but feel is more than the situation truly deserves. Especially since some of the rangers are starting to peer over their way. “See, even Kazaha knows it’s bullshit.”

His mouth purses into a tight frown. “I don’t know why it’s even Kazaha--”

Yuzuri’s brows make a dubious stretch toward her hairline. “I’m pretty sure you do.”

“--I’m very socially astute, even Shidan--”

“--just because he lets you out of the lab doesn’t mean you don’t offend people by breathing--”

“I dunno.” Suzu’s forehead furrows, tapping a spoon on each of his oyster crackers, drowning them in broth. “Zen seems like a real upright guy, you know? Forthright. If he had a problem, he’d say something, not just ghost you.”

Yuzuri stares at him. “He buys you one bubble tea, and now he can do no wrong.”

“Do you know how hard those are to get out here? He had to go all the way out to--”

Whatever else Suzu means to say, it’s lost in the siren.

This isn’t Shirayuki’s first time in the dome-- far from it-- but it’s never easy.

The siren’s moan shivers through the air, something she feels rather than hears. Her teeth rattle in her mouth, and there’s nothing she wants to do more than curl up beneath the table and ride it out, eyes squeezed shut and hands over her ears. She wouldn’t be the only one; already half of K-Science is on the ground, tears streaming down more than one ashen face.

Man’s worst enemy is fear. Grandpa had told her that, letting her dip her toes into the bay. She’d been small, young enough that she still wondered if kaiju might lurk under the surface, waiting to pull tasty little girls beneath the depths. Kaiju can only kill you once, but fear kills a hundred times. His hand sits heavy on her shoulder, a comfort, a cage; and she--

She gets up.

Pilots and personnel scramble; one tech stands up too fast, boot hooking on the bench’s edge and sprawling face-first into the floor. It’s only ranger reflexes that keep her from getting trampled, dodging around the splay of her fingers with a dexterity that would make Shirayuki’s jaw drop if she wasn’t trying to keep all her molars from jittering out of their sockets.

There’s a hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t just imagined it, a goad to get her standing. She traces the hand back, up ranger fatigues to dark hair, brows raised, and beneath them--

It’s violet eyes, not gold. Not Obi, but a ranger she’s never seen before, his mouth quirked with cold consideration.

“It would be safer,” he says, voice somehow Altantic-crisp over the cacophony, “if you stayed in your seat.”

Her mouth opens, working around the sounds to thank him, but he’s already gone, disappeared into the crowd of PPDC personnel around her. Shirayuki’s eyes shift over the mob, trying to-- to find him, maybe, or at least a face she knew, someone that she could talk to, someone to memorize one last time--

She finds one, silver-blond hair shimmering at the door, too pale to be anyone else. Zen. It’s Zen looking right at her, those deep blue eyes inscrutable, mouth carved into a line more grim than he’s ever shown her.

He turns away.

“It’s too soon, though,” Suzu murmurs, staring down at his napkin. The screens are on now, muted by the siren’s wails, and there’s a Kaiju on it, frill rigid around its reptilian face as it tears a city to twisted metal ribbons. It’s just buildings, streets, impossible to tell which one, but all that matters right now is not here.

“As I said,” Ryuu says, only just audible over the drone. “You dropped a variable.”

What hurts most, once her teeth stop rattling and her heart ceases to pound in her chest, is that Yuzuri is right-- Zen is avoiding her.

“The sessions are his choice.” Labeling tubes isn’t quite how Shirayuki had envisioned her evening going, especially with her mind half-away, pondering over the Pacific, but it’s something to do. “No one can force him to come.”

“Sounds like that’s half the problem,” Garrack mutters, forehead pressed to the hood, leaving a faint, oily smear across the glass. “Free will. Foils gods and men alike, doesn’t it?”

Her mouth pulls down at the corners, a bow stretched too tight, just like her patience. “I don’t want him to be forced. Therapy only works if the patient wants to change.”

Which, by Zen’s conspicuous absence, tells her he doesn’t. He’s happy as he is, wearing the fatigues but never getting in the cockpit, waiting for a copilot that’s already shown how little he cares about anything but lining his own pocket.

“Of course. You can lead a horse to water, but you’ll never make it drink.” It’s impressive to watch Garrack work; even in rubber sleeves, her grip never trembles, never slips. In the same position, Shirayuki can barely close a fist, but Garrack’s got the same dexterity in the hood as she does out of it. “Good thing you get paid regardless.”

Shirayuki flushes, heat pricking at her pride. “I’m not worried about that.”

“No, I wouldn’t think you are,” Garrack murmurs. “I’m just saying it’s nice. Salaried, with room and board to boot.”

Her frown falls further, flirting with a glower. “I’m aware that I’m in the unique position of not having to care in an official capacity if he bothers to come back. But personally--” her breath catches, stomach doing one, solid somersault-- “I do. I want him to want this.”

Garrack hums, not an agreement or judgement, but an acknowledgement. Tactic permission to proceed.

“Izana wants me to tells him to climb into a jeager, to use my-- our personal connection to manipulate him into the cockpit, regardless of what his personal feelings are.” Her breath rushes from her lungs, suddenly ragged, frayed at either end. “No, encourage. That’s what he told me. That it’s my job to do it for humanity.”

One thick eyebrow arches under Garrack’s cap, her eyes bright with interest. “And how do you feel about that?”

It’s strange being on the other side of this question, to be the analyzed instead of the analyzer. She squirms, teeth worrying at her lip, mind racing with possibilities.

“C’mon now,” Garrack chides, mouth hooking into a smirk. She picks up her rack, rattling the small tubes in their holes. “I gave you those for a reason. Idle hands are the devil’s playground, you know-- at least, that’s what people say when they’re afraid of what you’ll get up to if you start thinking.”

She tosses her a wink, ejecting the tip of her pipette into the trash before fitting on another. “Too bad they don’t know that drudgery clears your mind. Have all my best ideas when I’ve got a sharpie and a hundred two-mils to get through. So come on--” she grins, all conspiracy-- “tell me. What do you think of our illustrious leader’s idea?”

Her teeth click shut around her first opinion-- saying Izana Wisteria should go suck eggs would not only please Garrack far too much, but would be around the rest of the base by morning. The last thing she needs is the Marshal inviting her into his office and reading that off one of his hundreds of emails. “...Think that’s beyond my professional scope to comment on.”

“Oh please.” Garrack waves her off, one rubber arm flailing behind the glass. “I’m not asking you to issue a formal complaint about the marshal’s policies. I want to know if you think that kid should get in that steel coffin and kick the closest kaiju in whatever passes for their balls. If throwing another body at the breach is what’s best for humanity.”

“I...”

It shouldn’t be. There’s more rangers on this base than jaegers to fit them; one career pilot pulling back to fill the ranks shouldn’t be more than a drop in the bucket, a chair to fill. But this is no ordinary jaeger-- this is Rex Tyrannous, the most advanced piece of machinery to roll out of a PPDC facility before or since. Rebuilt from the same blueprint as the Mark I, reconfigured with the best technology the Mark III could offer, the Mark IV’s older, more deadly brother, and--

And the money for it hadn’t come out of Defense Corps coffers. No matter how many hopefuls washed up at the dome, the King of Kaijus wouldn’t come out of its box for anyone less than a Wisteria, not as long as at least one was still standing.

“Yes.” She spits the word out like poison, but still she feels unclean. “There’s no one else that can do what he needs to.”

Garrack’s mouth twists in a wry curve. “Then there you go.”

“It’s a conflict of interest!” Shirayuki insists, the sharpie in her hand shaking as she tries to form a 4. “If there was anyone on this base that had the credentials, I’d-- I’d put in the referral myself. He deserves someone that’s impartial--”

“Shirayuki.” With exaggerated care, Garrack pulls her arms from the hood, letting her hands fall down to her lap. “Do you think there is a single soul in this dome who could do the math you did and not be partial?”

Her mouth works, opening once, twice, before settling shut with a snick.

“I didn’t hire you because you lacked bias.” Garrack’s voice pitches low, softer than she’s ever heard her, knuckles white where they clasp her knees . “You wrote a paper about PTSD in rangers that lost a partner in the drift. A paper, might I add, that showed a great deal of knowledge in jaeger production and use. The sort of thing no one learns unless they’ve been locked up under a dome for years before being released in the wild.”

It’s not an accusation, not yet, but Shirayuki’s hands still anyway, clammy beneath latex.

“Because of that useless wall, we’re years behind in jaeger production. We need new mechs, and Rex Tyrannous is the best model we got left, whether it’s been sitting in its box for half a decade or not. ” She settles back, brow arched. “But I don’t need to tell you that, now do I?”

No. Her fingers clench hard around the sharpie. She doesn’t.

“Shirayuki, I know you’re a good kid, but you do get to be selfish sometimes.” Garrack grins, too pleased at the prospect. “You’re human, just like the rest of us. There’s no one who doesn’t have skin in this game.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “But it’s my job to do what’s best for him as my patient, not just--”

Garrack snorts. “Oh, is the discontinuation of the human race not going to affect him?”

Shirayuki frowns, opening her mouth to-- well, to say something quelling, no doubt. But-- “Oh.”

Garrack hunches over her lap, forearms braced on her thighs. “I know the Wisterias put on a good show of being gods, but they’re flesh and blood like the rest of us. It doesn’t do anyone good for them to sit out the apocalypse. Not even themselves.”

“But, I...” She sets the tubes down, gloves crinkling into fists. “I don’t know what happened in the drift, just what the readouts said. It could have been a failure on Obi’s side just as much as his, and if they’re not compatible--”

“Then just ask him,” Garrack sighs, swiveling back toward the hood. “You don’t need to try to read minds.”

“But he’s not talking--”

“Not that Wisteria prick.” She chucks her chin toward the door, toward the vague direction of the dome beyond. “The other one. Seems like the real problem there might be getting him to stop talking.”

“Obi?” She blinks. He’s friendly, sure, but she wouldn’t say he’s been one to volunteer information.

“If that’s the one that’s down here every other day, talking my ears off with Suzu, then yes.” One rubber arm flails at her through the glass. “Now get out of here, and get those two little shits inside their tuna can before a Cat 5 can make it down the coast and make us regret it.”

When she steps into the hall, Shirayuki has every intention of following Garrack’s advice. It’s solid, after all; in a two-sided problem where one solution makes itself unavailable, the obvious answer is the best approach-- especially when in this labyrinth of a dome, there’s only so many places where he can hide.

She stops by the mess for a peace offering. Obi might be disposed to be friendly toward her at the moment, but she knows all too well how far good will will get her if she’s going to start rummaging around in things he’d rather keep cooped up behind that smile. Quality coffee and some contraband cookies might not mend the bridges she burns, but it’ll at least keep them standing while she’s walking over it.

It’s a good plan, a solid plan; she just doesn’t anticipate the company.

“Shirayuki.” Dark circles ring dark eyes, but Mitsuhide smiles just as warm as he always does, sprawled stiffly on the bench. “It’s good to see you.”

“I should be saying the same thing!” she gasps, her and her tea sliding in across from him at the formica table. “I thought you’d be out...” in your tuna can.

She bites her cheek, just hard enough to keep the words from spilling out. Sometimes she really, truly wishes she didn’t listen to Garrack quite as much; her mouth and Garrack’s words made a volatile mix. The sort that would get her a dishonorable discharge, if she weren’t a civilian-- or careful.

“We were. I mean, I was. Both Kiki and myself.” His body twists with a good, solid shake, eyes clearing. “Sorry, just had to exorcise the ghost. You know how it is.”

She doesn’t, but she does. There’s papers on the subject; reams of them-- Longevity of neural imprints in active rangers had been a favorite when she’d been in undergrad, as well as the far more entertaining, Ghost Drifting: How does one leave a ghost while still alive? It’s still novel to witness it, to see that spectral presence cling to the neural stem so long after--

“We just got back a little while ago.” He shifts, his right leg stretching long across the floor, knee bucking stiffly. “Kiki hit the rack, but I needed to, ah, take a walk.”

That’s his-- his good leg, as Kiki likes to call it, the half of him that becomes Redwood Dancer to pair with her left. That’s what makes them first line defense, even in an older Mark III; Kiki’s a real lefty, not one made by the drift. When Dancer throws a punch, both sides come full powered.

That’s what you get being the best of the best, Zen would say, envy and wistfulness thickening his voice, everyone knows they can count on you to serve.

That seems less like a good thing as Shirayuki sits across from it, watching the shadows shift in Mitsuhide’s eyes.

“Did you see it?” she asks, voice a whisper in the cavernous lair of the mess. “The kaiju?”

Mitsuhide grunts, shaking his head. “No, we were kept on standby. Got there after some of the boys in Hong Kong did, and they handled it.”

He doesn’t offer how well; she doesn’t ask.

“Ah,” she hums instead, hunching over her mug. “So it was out that way?”

“When they get that far down, yeah.” One of his large fingers wraps around the handle of his mug, bringing it to his mouth for a long, steady drag. “Not many wander out this way.”

“Alaska--”

“Yeah, there’s a few up north, and I think Seattle always has a good sweat when that happens, but...” His brows furrow, just a small wrinkle in the center of his forehead. “Not so much down here. Not anymore.”

Her palms press against warm ceramic, lips curling into a thin smile. “I guess we don’t have what they want. Whatever that is.”

His mouth gives a wryly twitch. “Thank God for small blessings.”

It would be nice to let the silence between them mellow, to allow herself a companionable respite after swallowing around her heart for half a day, but--

But there are things that won’t keep, no matter how much she’d like to set them aside, set them down even for just a moment. “Mitsuhide...”

He stiffens, the way a dog does when it hears its name shouted in the key of trouble. There’s two ways to respond to conflict, they used to say, fight or flight; years later they added freeze with as begrudging a reception as any change to common wisdom was given. But Mitsuhide does none of those; he just hunkers, eyes warm and dark and wary when they meet hers, hedged by hunched shoulders. The sort of man who grew up in a place where natural disasters are weathered in bathtubs and basements, or else watched from afar on front porches.

“I meant to talk to you.” Her fingers knit into the natural ridges of her mug; the only way to keep them from trembling. “After...after. I mean, not this, but before. The, um...”

It’s ridiculous how many calamities can cluster in a few hours. She’ll need to start numbering them to keep them all straight.

“The drift,” he rasps wearily. “Zen's talked about it with you, hasn’t he?”

Her mouth works; her duty to her profession says to keep it shut, to keep her patient’s business confidential, but her duty as a member of the human race, of a species that is growing more endangered by the year-- “He skipped his session.”

Shirayuki couldn’t have moved him if she hit him, but this rocks him back in his seat. “I’d been hoping...” He shakes his head, mouth curling into a rueful smile. “I thought I’d be the one trying to work something out of you.”

“Ah.” She bows her head, watching the leaves swirl in her tea. “So you haven’t had any luck either?”

Her shakes his head, disappointment stark in every sway. “He won’t talk about it. After he got out of the hanger he went and locked himself in his rack. He only agreed to come to the mess if we promised to drop the whole thing.”

Shirayuki winces. “I’d normally never ask, but when he didn’t show up to our usual appointment...”

Mitsuhide lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “I don’t know why he’d do that. I’d give some of my teeth to let someone else listen to my head sometimes.”

She blinks. “You’re always welcome, if you wanted to.”

“No.” His mouth rucks up in a rueful curve. “I really couldn’t.”

“But--”

“The thing they don’t tell you before you get into that cockpit is--” he takes a deep breath, the air emptying out the tension in his shoulders-- “is that the second you hit the drift, all your secrets aren’t your own anymore.”

“Oh.” The drift is two minds laid bare to one another, the deepest form of trust, but in all her studies, she’d never thought what that meant. How tangled and deep a mind could become in things that weren’t theirs to know, weren’t their secrets to carry. “Can I ask you something?”

His eyebrows ruffle up an inch, curious. “Of course. Anything I can answer.”

“When you first came to the dome, you were...” Shirayuki bites her lips, considering. “You were Zen’s copilot. But then Kiki came...”

The PPDC might be the one that’s stamped on the letterhead, but the Wisterias are the spine of the jeager project as well as its face. Their neural net stretches far and wide through the Corp’s hierarchies, fingers in every pie, and although Zen might not be in the upper echelons of leadership, the sort of state secrets someone might glean from the casual details rattling around in his head...

Well, it’s a good thing the Seirans were just as entrenched.

“Why did you do it?” she asks finally, though it’s miles away from what she means. “Why change when you already...?”

“Ah, well...” Mitsuhide’s shoulders heave awkwardly. “It was an emergency, at first, and then...I don’t know how to explain it. We just fit. Not that I didn’t with Zen, but this was...”

He hesitates, smile edging towards a kind of self-deprecation that doesn’t quite fit him. “It was different. If that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t,” she admits. Not to her, at least, someone who has never been in a cockpit, who has never drifted over a set of pons and tried to make a connection. But to someone who has, who has spent the last half decade rotating through a list of hopefuls and throwing them all in the trash-- “But I think...maybe it could.”

Shirayuki would love to say that she’s experienced a perception shift, that a few words with Mitsuhide gave her a clarity that she needs to pore over before acting on, but the fact of it is-- she’s too anxious to approach Obi, pure and simple.

Not that he’s given her much cause; he’s scarce after that failure of a drift, but his absence lacks the marked purpose of Zen’s. It’s hard to find anyone after an attack; everyone’s on high alert, hypervigilant, waiting for another call to come like an aftershock. It’s never happened before, but to assume that means a double event is out of the question--

Well, humanity stopped making assumptions about what lurked beneath the Pacific the day Trespasser ripped the Golden Gate off its moorings.

She catches a glimpse of him every once and a while, always going the wrong way but with a smile to share before he disappears. He’s not avoiding her, he’s avoiding everyone else, and she’s just too much of a cog in the dome’s machinery to not be a casualty of it. It’s nothing personal, she’s sure, but with all the people giving her a wide berth lately, it’s hard not to feel that his absence is pointed.

Still, there are things that just won’t keep. She can’t just keep avoiding this because she’s afraid of one more rejection.

And that’s how she finds herself in the middle of the dome’s combat room, on the business end of Obi’s smirk.

“Doc,” he hums, kicking the end of his staff up to yoke his neck. He makes it look easy, like the jo is an extension of him rather than a separate piece. She can’t help but think of what he might do with a hundred tons of jeager strapped to him, how easy he might make it move. “Funny seeing you here.”

She nods, rocking on her toes. “It’s been a while.”

He swaggers toward her, stopping barely an arm’s length away, hip cocked. Sweat dews along every inch of him, his tank damp and clinging to the hard planes of his stomach, tighter than the lycra in her own gear. His pants swing low, leaving a sliver of skin between it and his shirt, and she--

She should really be looking elsewhere. He’s not a giant, not like Mitsuhide, but when she looks up, it’s a long way to meet his eyes. They’re laughing at her when she does.

“You’re not gonna get anything out of me, you know,” he says as if he’d like to see her try; a challenge rather than a defense. “What happens in the drift stays in the drift.”

Her mouth works; this time stuck less on the sweat crawling over his skin and more on how quickly she’s been made. “I didn’t say I was going to.”

“You had the look.” He shifts, hips drawing her gaze with them. When she glances back up, he seems to find that funny too. “Besides, why else would you come in here? Most shrinks I meet aren’t, hm, combat ready.”

“I-I work out!”

His eyebrows raise, mouth following suit. “That so?”

She flexes arm, baring what, in her humble opinion, is no small bicep. Kiki might have her beat, but in K-science terms she’s practically buff. “See?”

Obi slinks close, hunching over, jo and all, to give her offering a good squint. With a hum she’d like to think is at least mildly impressed, he straightens, suddenly so close she can smell the sweat on him and the faint whiff of his deodorant.

“Well then, I stand corrected.” His smile stretches Cheshire-wide as he steps aside, sweeping out a hand. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Shirayuki peers past him, fighting to keep the grimace from her face. She works out, sure, but more along the lines of slow and low. Yoga. Tai chi. Pilates. Things that promote mind and body balance. But even in the gym, all the equipment is meant for bulking muscle, for building the sort of bodies that can bear up a skyscraper. And the combat room...

Well the only equipment here is the jo in their rack and the tatami on the floor. This isn’t for people looking to do a pull up, it’s for rangers looking to spar.

“Tell you what, Doc,” Obi says, no small amount of amusement or pity in his voice. “I could use a cool down.”

His jo whips down from his shoulders, lightning fast, hands thrusting out in the air, and she--

Her hand rises to match, catching the jo mid-air. She sags under it, a little heavier than she expected from a stick that size, but keeps her feet under her. She glances back at Obi, wide-eyed, but he just lifts his brows, impressed. “How about we go a round, you and me?”

It’s a normal request-- maybe not to her, but the rangers certainly aren’t shy about taking conversations to the tatami. But Obi’s voice does something with it, pushes it down into a register that feels more mattress than mat, and she shivers as she lets the jo drop more naturally into her grip. “Me?”

“Well, I really thought you wouldn’t catch it.” His chin juts toward her staff. “But it looks like you at least know how to hold it.”

Her finger flex around the wood, settling against its smooth surface. “I’ve done it once or twice.”

A half dozen years ago, but he doesn’t need to know that.

His mouth twitches. “Great.”

Obi’s not a mountain of a man, not like Mitsuhide, but when he falls into stance, he could make himself one. It would take an earthquake to move him, and she has the world’s smallest lever. “Come at me.”

Shirayuki shuffles awkwardly on the mat, twisting the jo to rest on both her hands. It feels like she’s got two left ones holding it-- neither one of them are as good as Kiki’s-- but muscle serves her better than memory. Center yourself, Grampa told her, yanking her chest above her hips, feel the earth come to meet you. You’ll be part of it one day, and it’s ready.

Morbid, but it works. Her spine jolts into a straight line, weight teetering between her feet, and she takes her swing.

Obi doesn’t try to dodge. He could-- even in that split second, his muscles twitch, goading him to flee-- but he just raises his staff, a jolt she feels right down to her shoulders. The puny clack echoes in her ears. It’s nothing even close to how him and Zen were sparring.

“Go ahead.” He shifts his weight as she recovers, bracing himself. “Again.”

Right. Her feet flatten against the mat-- or at least they try to, pressing instead against the foam of her sneakers. Her sneakers that she’s still wearing, since she came in here thinking there would be an elliptical, or weights, or not this.

That won’t do at all. She toes them off, setting them at the edge of the tatami, the only spectators to her impending humiliation.

She hesitates, fingers peeling socks over her heels. Obi’s already said she won’t get any information out of him; she doesn’t need to do this. She could walk away right now, and the only consequence would be his teasing. And yet--

And yet, Shirayuki walks back, feet grounding against the weave beneath them. The jo settles between her hands. Obi grins.

When she moves again, it’s with more confidence, memory fueling her strike. He catches it again, but this time it doesn’t rattle her. At least, not until he moves too, viper fast, and then she’s scrambling again. She’s no noodle-armed K-science geek, no matter what Obi might say, but when she thrusts her staff up overhead to meet his swing, her arms tremble, teeth jangling in her mouth.

Obi retreats, amusement clinging to his lips, and she huffs. Maybe she can’t take the same sort of beating Kiki can, but she isn’t about to be some pushover.

She comes at him again, lower this time, on the outside. He’s not prepared-- she can tell the way his eyes widen-- but reflexes smooth his response, drawing her back with a few of his own strikes, and then--

Then it’s just trading blows. Not like his spar with Zen; he’s too skilled and she’s too inexperienced for this to be anything but a planned draw, for him to do anything but go easy on her. But still, still-- there’s a strange electricity every time they meet, more than just their jo rising to meet each other, an anticipation--

Obi steps back, brow furrowed. “Hm.”

Shirayuki’s panting, drenched, and he’s barely broken a sweat. “Is something wrong?”

It certainly doesn’t feel wrong to her.

“N-no.” He plucks her jo from her grip, the swagger gone from his hips as he mounts it on the wall beside his. “Just. Interesting.”

“Interesting?” she prompts hopefully.

Obi shrugs, like there’s an itch between his shoulders. “Did you need anything else, Doc?”

“I...” She bites down on the impulse to ask, to demand to know if he felt it too. “No. I should, um. Get going.”

“Nowhere to go but people to see, huh?” he laughs, but it’s weaker than his usual, stilted.

“Yeah,” she breathes, turning away. “Something like that.”

We just fit, Mitsuhide said with that strange look on his face, a yearning she knows now. If that makes sense.

“Obi?” Even to her own ears, her voice sounds distant, like it’s coming from another mouth, not her own. Maybe it’s just because she’s bent in half, working cotton over sweaty toes. Maybe it’s because it feels like she’s only working with half a body.

His head swivels, chin peeking over his shoulder. “Yeah, Doc?”

“It wasn’t you, was it?” He blinks, head tilting with confusion, and she clarifies, “It wasn’t your failure.”

His breath tumbles from his like wind over water; she swears she can feel the ripples of it even where she stands. “No,” he says, so soft it’s nearly lost over the rattle of the vents. “Not yet.”

The static fizzles on her skin, belly rocking as she bends to slip on her sneakers, and oh, Mitsuhide’s words might not have made sense before, but--

But she’s worried they’re starting to now.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #pacific rim au #my fic #this chapter ended up being much more of a beast than i thought #and this is WITH some scenes getting moved to next chapter for like...SPACE #but that's pretty much what took this so long #trying to rearrange this to cover some of the big points that HAD to be covered by Shirayuki POV #so that this was only like...6K instead of 8K and double the chapter length of any one before it #DEEP SIGH #this is a hobby i choose to do for fun

18 notes · View notes