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vitaminwaterreviews · 5 months

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AIXP - The Artificial Intelligence Experiment

I think that my comment on the first song really sums up my feelings towards the album as a whole: “Pleasantly surprised.” Often full albums can feel like a bit of a slog, especially if they’re from genres that I’m not a huge fan of. Coup d’Etat for example, which I listened to just yesterday, was more of a slog than this album was, and that album is considered one of the GOAT kpop albums. So the fact that this album was much easier (and more enjoyable) to get through is a big compliment.

The instrumental samples and vocals as a whole felt very processed, I think that’s my biggest criticism. It’s possible that I just have very messy versions of the songs; these have been converted at least once on my end, and who knows how many times on behalf of the person I got them from. But the vocals in the mellow and pretty sections never totally won me over, and the mellow sections in general always felt a Bit too coarse and processed.

I also definitely wanted more melody from the guitars, but again, I’m not familiar with the conventions of the genre so maybe that’s just something that I don’t know.

Now the stuff that I’m impressed by. The mixing was constantly making me turn the music up to the point that it hurt my ears. I dunno if that’s intentional, but for metal music I think that’s definitely a Good thing. The vocals were excellent, even if the growly vocals weren’t conventional death metal vocals, they still fit this particular sound well. I enjoyed the structure of the individual songs a lot - we had a really good mix of upbeat and mellow sections, and right as I was starting to get bored of one, it switched to another. There were only a couple of sections in the entire album that I started to get bored, and it kept my attention really well other than those.

The last two songs are definitely the highlights of the album for me, I think Hourglass is probably my favorite song overall.

I did find it kind of odd how a lot of the songs seemed to end on a slow section, even if they didn’t have one at all during the main part of the song. The transition from Hourglass to Finale was particularly jarring, maybe that could’ve been smoother. Or maybe that’s intentional. So many things that I just don’t know, because I’m not familiar with the genre! Anyway, enough rambling. Average score of 8.0 which feels exactly correct to me. Very good, could use some improvement, but still a solid four out of five stars. I enjoyed it a lot more than I expected to.

- Alright, I feel the need to add some disclaimers here. I do not usually listen to metal of any sort, and definitely not death metal. I am, however, regularly exposed to death metal, mostly though music leagues that I do with my friends who are more into the subgenre than I am. But since I got early access to this particular album, I figured I’d give it a proper listen and do the proper review and all that. I have no idea how I’ll end up rating any of these songs, or the album as a whole, but here we go.

The Artificial Intelligence Experiment

The layering on the vocals is Really nice

And actually the entire song feels so Thick, in a good way

Love the pause and “thump thump” after “The Artificial Intelligence Experiment”

Oh, I probably can’t just google the lyrics to this now can I, sad

The whole thing feels … epic

I usually associate that kind of guttural growl singing with death metal, we haven’t had much of that yet

Oh and of course as soon as I type that, we get a bit of it lol

I quite like this section around 3:00, I assume this is the outro

I wonder whose vocals these are. Is this THE nLazy singing??

8/10, pleasantly surprised

I Forgot to Take My Meds

Me too tbh

Alright, here’s the melodic part of melodic death metal

Love love love the autotune on this voice in the intro here

“I forgot to take my medicationnnnn” lmao

I heard ‘forgotten pills’! That was a former name of this song

The voice still feels very heavily processed in the slow part ~1:50, kinda wish it was cleaner in the mix to give us more contrast

A bit better around 2:45. Maybe just personal taste then, because the vocal effects definitely fit Conceptually, but I’d prefer them cleaner to make them sound more human

8/10, really enjoyed this one, I think if I was more a fan of metal then it’d be a 9

Lost in the Void

Nice, love me some piano

It does feel slightly out of place though - very clean, kind of echoey, like a random piano from a music chamber was put in the middle of armageddon or something lmao

I keep turning the music up, and then my ears start to hurt, so I have to turn it back down. Maybe that’s an intentional aspect of the genre, or maybe the mixing is a bit off. Let me see if I can figure out what I’m trying to hear more of

Yeah even here. The vocals are as unprocessed as we’ve gotten so far, but they still feel processed! Idk, I’ll stop harping on that now

The “oooooh”s at the end are neat. I’m getting like, horror vibes out of this

7/10

Betrayers Lament

I almost get … prog rock vibes out of this soundscape, whatever instrument doing these harmonies feels like that electronic organ for some reason

Yeah, the growly vocals are definitely not the conventional style that I usually hear in death metal

Not that it’s a bad thing. The section beginning at 1:36 feels Really good in context

This is cool, the section around 3:30 feels really cool

Love how distorted the piano feels

What I want here is a ridiculously technical electric guitar solo at the here, riffing over everything else going on

8/10

Chaos Unleashed

That it, the mixing thing. The vocals are kind of buried in the mix, it’s really hard to make out what they’re saying. BUT, I suspect that’s very intentional, most death metal sounds similar to me

Or maybe I’m just used to listening to pop music where the vocals ARE the mix lol

I haven’t commented much on the particular song yet, but I’m vibing

A comment on the ending: it feels Kind of cheesy. Nowhere else in the song do we get the more mellow vibe of the final “nothing is as it seems”, so it feels like it comes out of nowhere just to force an ending

That said, if the next song begins with a similar vibe, then it might work pretty well as a bridge between the two songs. Let’s see!

7/10

Echoes of Freedom

Nope lol

That said I do quite like the intro here, it’s bouncy and almost dancy

Yeah, this actually feels almost more poppy than the other songs. Can’t totally tell why

Like, if I was gonna release a single off of this album, I think this is the one I’d choose

That said, this is partly because this song is kind of safe. It definitely doesn’t Explore as much as some of the other songs have

8/10

Maze of Life

Lord of the Rings vibes for some reason

I wonder what that instrument is, the one doing the triplets in the intro

Oh wait, this whole song is in 6/8, I didn’t even realize until just now

I like that a lot, it gives a really nice momentum

Feels almost like a march

Haha random choral section at 2:05, this is actually so neat

The thing is, this is the easiest song to listen to, but I don’t know if it’s my favorite. Like, as much as I love 6/8, it does often feel kinda cheesy to me

Or maybe I’m just jaded and cynical

8/10

Revelations

I want more of whatever the highest guitar line is in the first 30 seconds or so

Hoorayyyyyyyyy we’re 8 songs in and finally we get a proper guitar solo!!!

Kinda short though, gimme more gimme more

This was a really good song. I want more of that guitar. Very few comments here though because I did start to zone out - maybe worth noting

8/10

From the Shadows

I can definitely hear the lyrics very easily in the opening lines of the song, first time in the album I can say that for a full verse

Nice, the change between half time to double time around 2:00 felt really good

The instrumental break around 2:20 is good, I like the cute little sixteenth note runs

Structurally, I’d expect this song to be the climax of the album. Lyrically I think that makes sense, I’m not sure I buy it musically

Perhaps Finale is the climax though, seems likely

Again with randomly ending on a mellow section after an entire loud and upbeat song

Maybe that’s a trend in melodic deathcore though

It definitely did something with it though

8/10

Hourglass

Dude this guitar sample is So pretty omg

Yes, love the vocals

This isn’t death metal, this is just Lovely

Love the percussion

Mkay, now it picks up

Maybe this is the climax of the album then, it feels like it so far, that transition was epic

Alright, and now we’re slow again

Oh we’re in 3/4 now, didn’t even notice

I quite quite like this song, probably my favorite on the album so far

3/4 really is such an anthemic time signature, this feels so epic

I’d love to see the lyrics for this particular song. It’s impossible to pick them out during the loud sections

Whatever’s going on with the vocals around 3:20 is genius, love love love how they sound in conjunction with the instrumentals

Lol what is that ending

9/10

Finale

And we go from that soundscape to this soundscape, fair enough ig

We’re in 12 now, I think

Haha wait this is a 7 minute song!! Better be good

That section around 1:37 was good, felt like a nice break

I want it to go somewhere else, 2:20 and so far we’ve been at exactly the same energy the whole way through. This album has enough pretty sections on it that the finale should tie back into

Nice guitar around 2:50, give me more

That’s one thing the album doesn’t do too well is fun guitar solos. Maybe death metal doesn’t do fun guitar solos

3:30-ish sounds Really cool though

Mkay, now we’re soft, about time

This guitar does feel totally out of nowhere, it’s almost … folky

That’s such a metal trope, going from Chill and then immediately having the drums come in and introducing the Metal back in

4:40 is so cool omg

Yeah, this might be my favorite section on the album

The whole instrumental section here is perfect actually. I think vocals would detract from it, good decision

Yep, definitely 12/8

I’m at 6:30 now and I’ll tell you what, this didn’t feel like a 7 minute song at all

Not totally convinced by the ending

9/10

#album #metal #death metal #melodic death metal #AIXP

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slavghoul · 2 years

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Interview from Rock Hard FR #232

The devil is in the details

You never hid it, Metallica had a big influence on your way of thinking about your career. Impera is your fifth album. It allowed you to play in very big venues, it saw you reach the first place of the US charts. Is it, in a way, your Black Album?

I don't think I can compare our career to Metallica. The band was, at the time, part of this huge mainstream rock wave that was the equivalent of what many rap bands are today. In 1991, Metallica was listened to by every high school student. Whereas, on our side, even if it's undeniable that we're doing well, it's always young people "on the fringe" who listen to us because our trajectory has always been more alternative than mainstream. But it's true that the pressure we felt when creating this fifth album is surely the same as the one Metallica experienced at the time, as well as Iron Maiden with Powerslave (1984). Metallica did have a huge impact on me, it influenced my way of thinking enormously, as did Maiden again, especially in terms of how to tour, how much work to put into our projects, how to behave... We've toured with both bands, and a lot of our strategies - even if it sounds a bit like we're a company - about how to create a good atmosphere for all the people who work with us on the road are very much influenced by the fact that we've opened for them and that they've treated us well.

It is not easy to manage such a success, to manage to prolong the ascension while reinventing oneself sufficiently. Metallica made the choice to drastically change its orientation on all levels, even if it meant taking a big risk. How do you approach this step, which is similar, for Ghost?

We're not at a point where we've accomplished everything yet, especially in terms of gigs, the places I want to play, and there are still a lot of new people to reach. Musically, I already have an album in mind that will contain things we haven't done yet. I also have a film project. But if I ever wanted to do something totally different, I would probably do it under a different name. I'm trying to make Ghost evolve into whatever form it can take, but I would never say to myself, "Okay, I'm going to give up the theatrical stuff, we're going to play in the clothes we wear every day". That's not cool, that's not what we're known for, and that's not what people want. Of course, you could argue that we've already disappointed fans of the first and second albums, who feel they didn't get what they wanted, but exploring new territories and evolving is a very difficult thing to define. Nevertheless, I think there are some key ingredients in the Ghost recipe that I can't subtract without causing serious consequences. If you think of Ghost as a dish in an Italian restaurant, the music is the olives and garlic, our visual attitude is the pasta base, you can't remove one of the two ingredients from such a dish without distorting it... I would add that the lyrics would be the cheese! (laughs) But if I had more time, I would love to play drums in a punk rock band in the future!

I'd like to talk more specifically about the universe and philosophy of the Ghost concept, which is a band that has always given the feeling of being black metal... but without the black metal music. The cover of Prequelle (2018), for example, or the lyrics of a track like "Majesty" are elements that one would easily imagine to find in a black metal band...

I come from the black and death metal scene. I built myself up with it, starting to listen to this music when I was in puberty. My whole adolescence was coloured by this extreme scene, although I grew up listening to a lot of different styles of music. It's clearly my home, where this sort of sub-culture or pop-culture that I like so much comes from. But I also got out of sync with the times pretty quickly: by 1995, I had already lost interest in new bands, being too busy listening to 1985 bands instead! (laughs) The bands I liked the most were still around though. Either because their careers were still going strong, or because they were reforming. In fact, the music that followed me all my life was the music my mother listened to when she was young: The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, The Doors, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix. It was an echo of another era, the 60s and 70s, which I obviously never experienced. But metal being closer to me, it comes out in Ghost, even though a lot of our melodic elements come from something else. It's in the attitude and the lyrics that you find my black metal, death metal and punk influences. This nervousness, this biting side, the will to move mountains with words, in a very adolescent, aggressive approach...

Since the beginning of the band, some of your lyrics have been precisely anchored in religious references, sacred texts like the Bible. For example, Satan Prayer contains an ‘inverted’ version of the Nicene creed, and many other lyrics refer to very specific things that I imagine you have studied in detail...

Yes, I've always been interested in religion, especially when I started, as a teenager, to get interested in demons and the occult. That was the beginning of my first band. I started writing songs and spent a lot of time with a dictionary, trying to collect words, phrases, and that's what I still do with Ghost today. When you work with words, you have this desire to explore your inner self, linguistically, to refine your language. I'm bilingual, but I want to keep learning new words, new phrases, grammar, whether it's in English or Swedish. When I started writing lyrics, I wanted to do death metal, then black metal, and all the bands I listened to used these words and names inspired by biblical or semi-biblical texts, or expressions in "Latinized" English. I read books on religion, the Bible of course, but I also turned to films, anything I could find, at a time when, without the Internet, it was more difficult to find sources. I collected and gathered a lot of things!

There's another thing you've cultivated since the beginning, in parallel with these very satanic lyrics: it's your sense of humour, which allows for a rather explosive duality. So, when Ghost was still only on Myspace, you were already sending deadpan messages to the fans who contacted you. Like: “you'll burn in hell for eternity for being interested in Ghost... but you can still send us your questions!”

(Laughs) As far back as I can remember, I've always been like that! It sounds a bit silly when you say it like that, but the world loves to laugh. I've always been guided by humour, satire, even when I was playing with Repugnant. Even back then I had a bit of an ironic attitude, and I always added humorous elements to my work. I've always enjoyed both the joking and the very dark - at least on the surface - aspects of some bands. In the underground scene I know, with the exception of a few idiots who were completely dead inside, and who actually had huge mental problems, most of my friends were very funny guys, always guided by the joke and the humour. That's a very important thing to me. I can't imagine living without comedy, without the ability to laugh at almost anything. From my point of view, it's what allows us to deal with things that are supposed to make us cry. There are so many tragic and horrible events in the world, and you'll always find someone to say, "No, it's too soon to laugh about it". But for me, it's never too early. It's a very contemporary thing, to constantly question what we are allowed to laugh about, what we are allowed to say. But I really think that in the future we'll be able to start laughing at everything again, because that's how we get through things. No matter how negative or horrible the subject is, that's how we should live our lives: trying to entertain each other, allowing ourselves to have fun with almost - and I mean almost - everything.

As we said, despite this fun side, your lyrics are very serious. Nevertheless, in the eyes of some listeners, you may give the idea that all this is only a parody of Satanic codes, for fun. It is however difficult to imagine you making fun of Satanism when we know the strong links you had with the late Selim Lemouchi (The Devil's Blood) or that still unite you with Erik Danielsson (Watain), two figures who we know do not joke at all with the question...

(He cuts me off) But I don't make fun of Satanism! Not at all! That was never my intention (silence) I take the example of the book The Name Of The Rose, written by Umberto Eco. Anybody who reads this book can understand, especially in Europe, where many people grew up under a Catholic religious influence... Do you have any recollection of the Church being associated with anything comical or funny? Do you remember priests as comedians, who make you laugh and have a good time? No... Because the devil has always represented intellectualism, freedom of thought, comedy and satire, whereas Christianity has always represented the opposite: the repression of feelings and needs. For me, if you want to approach things from a satanic angle, I can't imagine a more satanic life than the one we propose! (laughs) We talk about freedom, intellectualism, laughter, not following the conformist path. There is sometimes an attitude among the people who form the underground scene that makes them confuse the totalitarian nature of the Church with its opposite. But what do you want? A totalitarian Christianity without the slightest hint of laughter or the other way? You decide... It's also a funny confusion when it comes to the symbols, rhetorical elements, references to the Bible and visual language we use, both in Ghost and in metal in general: we are all fascinated by the devil, power, all that stuff, but to my knowledge, not a single destructive empire in the history of mankind has been designated as Satanic... The number of murders perpetrated by Satanists can be counted on the fingers of a few hands, whereas the HUGE amount of people tortured, raped, killed, burned, stoned, dismembered, thrown like piles of rubbish in public places, for thousands of years, in the name of Christianity and other religions, is insurmountable. Who are those who do harm? (silence) Who are those who cannot take a joke? If you don't want to laugh and prefer to become an authoritarian person, determined to fuck people up, you should go and see a priest, it's the best thing to do...

A band like Black Sabbath had to make their non-Satanism clear early in their career because they couldn't stand to be misunderstood, both by believers and by Satanists themselves. Ghost is eminently more blasphemous than Black Sabbath, but you were never forced by events to speak out on the issue. The Telegraph newspaper recently ran the headline: "How Ghost became the acceptable face of Satanism".

I think it has a lot to do with the groundwork Black Sabbath laid fifty years ago. The first Satanic bands, like Black Widow, Coven or Black Sabbath - and I think even the Rolling Stones, although it's just a word in the title of a song (editor's note: Sympathy For The Devil /1968) - were confronted with the peculiarity of the late 60s. They were in their twenties, born in the 40s, and had taken a big leap into a new era, with all these new freedoms that their parents didn't have, who had been born in the 10s or 20s. And their parents were embarrassed by it all. The long hair alone was too much, not to mention the way they lived their sexuality and didn't care about anything. For their parents, these kids were ruining everything. Today, I dare say that our concerts probably bring together four generations of people. Those born in the 40s, others born in the 50s and 60s, then my generation, and finally the younger ones. All of these people have grown up with a pop-cultural Satan in one way or another, whether it's movies or rock music. It's not as provocative as it used to be, unless you're a puritan or a black metalhead who doesn't know how to smile and thinks that Ghost is joking with Satanism... I would like to point out something else in this regard: of course, Ghost never joked with Satan, not at all, but on the other hand, I'm not trying to embody the face of Satanism. My approach is different from that of Selim or Erik. I'm not trying to get people to take my... (fumbling for words)... whether I am a Satanist or not. At the end of the day, we're an entertainment group. I want to make people happy, but also inspire them. And while I'm doing that with my band, I take the opportunity to give the listeners an idea of what I think about things, how I feel about them. But let's say there is no... programme! (small laugh) I don't think that way. I want to do my bit to help make the world a better place, according to my vision, that of someone who grew up in the 80s with VHS of horror films. My childhood memories are of such a liberated cultural climate... We had almost no restrictions, and I combined that with my personal life, with an older brother and a very liberal mother. There was BB King in one room, the Dead Kennedys in the other, and me in the middle, playing on the table with my Star Wars figures. I believe in a very culturally liberated society, and I want to offer a kind of big buffet with all these things that made me. I think most people think like me. At least the ones I know, because there are of course people elsewhere in the world who seem to miss the great days of the KGB... I don't know what they miss most: perhaps the lack of food and the empty stalls? But it's natural to be nostalgic, to want to go back to a time when life was cool. I believe that, in the near future, the life we are talking about will be allowed to exist. We will be able to listen to rock'n'roll, eat whatever we want, kiss whoever we want as long as they agree to be kissed back, and that's regardless of gender. And the only thing I can do to move those mountains is music, making people dance and laugh. It's the only thing I've ever been interested in, and also the only thing I'm capable of doing. I can't do more, I can't do differently...

The children's choir at Hellfest singing "Come together for Lucifer’s son" is far more disturbing than any ritual with pig's blood and inverted crosses. Yet few people are shocked. Most find it fun. Ghost is thus a kind of joyful satanic expression!

I love the duality of this experience! I also have my moments where I turn into a poser doing the "invisible oranges" gesture [editor’s note: a gesture that consists of holding both hands in front of you as if you were holding oranges] when I hear something that sounds **EVIL** (laughs) I like this aggressive, dark side, because it is also a part of me. But I chose to present this part, at least with Ghost, in a more joyful, positive way, because I believe that the Force is a balance. You have to combine the light and the dark. Everything evolves in a circular way, and if you try to trick people into using only one or the other side, it doesn't work. I don't believe in that. Doing this kind of stuff is the most intuitive way to express myself and my feelings. For me, "Monstrance Clock" with children defines me exactly, in the strongest way: it's funny and solemn at the same time, in a sacred sense... It's my more childish side because I also want to believe in supernatural things. I really do!

Because you are not an atheist.

(Firmly) No! I am not! I believe in the Force! Of all the explanations that exist, George Lucas' is the best: we have to work with the Force, it needs to evolve, but you can use it in two different ways, positive or negative. With it, you can destroy as well as rebuild...

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview

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wandsandwheezes · 4 years

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Assassini | G.W

Warnings // 3.5k // SMUT 18+, Sex, knife play, assassins, murder, attempted assassination??, contracts, ownership, breath play, begging.

A/N // Hi I am literally obsessed with assassins creed that is the only thing that prompted me to want to write this. this is not by any means my best work i just couldnt get the idea out of my head. that is all. thank you @gcdric for helping me as historically accurate as possible.

Your chest heaved as you stepped through the opening double doors and into a stunning reception area; rolling stone walls and a beautiful glass ceiling that showcased the fantastic hues of the Florentine sunset. You knew what you had to do, after all you would have never taken on the task if it didn’t fall within your capabilities. You rubbed your hands together before smoothing out your dress, you felt a fool coming to a high-class party on your own, knowing that the image of a stunning and well presented lady such as yourself standing on her own was sure to cause a scene among men, but with such an important target you couldn’t afford to be chasing around or keeping a date in tow; there was simply too much to lose.

Feeling the cool metal of the dagger sheathed against your thigh brought you back down to reality, your mind had begun to wonder of a life away from the horrors that came with the trade, what it was like to be a trophy wife on the arm of a wealthy man. That was not the life you had been blessed with, instead you spent your days between contracts, taking out whoever you needed to to get the pay, taking your prize gracefully before you were onto the next. People feared your ability to be able to take a life without remorse and without question, that was the reality of who you were; a cold blooded assassin.

The latest contract had been practically shoved down your throat, only just finishing up business before you were being shipped off to track the next target. No rest for the wicked. You were on your way to the grandest bash of your career, it would be packed with every wealthy man you could think of, every bachelor prancing around trying to find a wife but your eyes were dead set on finding one man - George Weasley. A very wealthy man, but ruthless, known well for the money of his family name but known better by the blood money that kept him feared by many. It was a contract that only a fool would take, failure ended in torture. You were no fool and you would not fail.

You knew the person who had last attempted the Weasley Contract - not the brightest man but someone who was notorious for getting the job done, it all came as a surprise at the order when the news of his death spread through the halls like wildfire. His tactics were good; sneak past the guards and get him dead in the night, his downfall was that George knew he was coming, waited for him even. You were glad however, that despite taking on the failed contract, you had the element of surprise on your side, nobody suspects a woman, not even George.

You caught sight of him standing with his hands pressed against the railing as he leaned over the balcony, eyes surveying the room as he spoke to someone standing beside him. George was tall, that much was obvious from the way he towered above most people standing around him, he had a chiselled jaw, dark striking eyes and long messy orange hair. He looked like a god, a pedestal he had placed himself on, and you knew that you had to get closer to him, better yet get him alone.

You had never once whored yourself out for the sake of a job, your years upon years of training gave you a sharp enough edge that you wouldn't ever need to rely on a feminine touch but tonight was different, the way his eyes scoured the crowd, you knew he was hungry for some female attention and if you had to give in to anyone for the sake of the job, it would be him.

You wore a beautifully detailed red gown, the corset pulled tight around your waist emphasised your ample breasts, threatening to spill at any moment and left not much to the imagination. Your plan was to catch his eye and you knew this was the dress that would do that. You followed his gaze and placed yourself directly in his line of vision, careful not to make yourself too obvious as to not attract unwanted gazes. When he caught sight of you he swore he could have stopped breathing, you truly were a vision of God.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you from that moment on and you had to admit that having a lingering male gaze did make your cheeks flush, suddenly feeling stuffy under the many layers of dress. George instructed one of his men, rather curtly, to bring you to him, a task that was handled quickly and with hurry as one of his aides approached you. “Mr Weasley has requested your company.”

Perfect, everything was going exactly to plan. As you were led up a grand staircase and past the guards that hadn’t even given you a second look. Now that you were on the private balcony, surrounded by members of the Weasley family and their company who were all schmoozing without any care in the world for the hundreds of guests below them, each one hoping they would be lucky enough to get that special invitation. Standing just behind George you were able to see with your own eyes just how much he truly did tower over you. Something inside of you bubbled and you refused to believe that it was anything but pure happiness for your plan going as well as it had.

“What’s a pretty Lady like you doing here on her own?” He asked smoothly, eyes not falling away from the gaze they held over the bustling crowd. As you looked over the balcony you could see that the room was packed, spotting the way the men flirted with any and every woman they could lay their eyes on, couples falling to the edges of the room in passionate lip locks, uncaring for the vast group of people around them.

“What makes you think I’m alone?” You quipped back, watching as a smile fell over his lips, finally pulling his eyes away from the crowd to face you. The moment your eyes locked again, this time inches away from him you felt that same bubbling feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“No respectable partner would let their Lady come to a party with her breasts heaving like that, well… not unless the Lady wants to be seen.” His eyes scanned over your upper body before meeting your eyes once again. You weren’t sure why you were holding your breath but the second his knuckle was grazing over your exposed collarbone, brushing your hair over your shoulder, you finally let out a slow, shaky breath.

“And to think I was just wearing a nice dress.” You sighed comically, turning back to lean your hands against the railing, taking a moment to compose yourself without having to stare into his eyes. Never in George’s life had a woman thought of talking back to him, so having you quip back at him with a tongue as sharp as his own, practically running circles around him in conversation made him even more determined to have you.

“You’re a quick one, smart I assume, probably raised by men, or at the very least a strong minded woman. A fighter too, you have the shoulders for it, money doesn’t matter to you much from your lack of jewellery- Stop me If I’m wrong.” With every assumption that spilled from his lips, you realised that you had blown your cover, fear immediately building in the pit of your stomach until it reached your eyes. “So what brings you here, If not for a man, what for?”

“Who said I didn’t want a man?” You finally looked back at him, a teasing smile on your lips. You watched his face ease, taking a brave step closer to him as you realised that he truly didn’t have a clue. You were brave for doing this, letting him see a vulnerable side to you, one that could leave you easily exposed.

“I’m sure you know who I am, don’t you sweetheart? Yet I haven’t a clue who you are.” He was smooth, able to pull your name from your lips without even a second thought. Perhaps it was a bad idea to lead this way, fearing that a part of you would grow attached to his smile or addicted to his perfect laugh.

“Well, count yourself lucky that you’re up here then, all you’ll find is boys down there.” You weren’t surprised that George was the cocky sort of man, part of you found it endearing that he obviously had some sort of saviour complex about him, figuring that he would selfishly have you to himself and ‘save’ you from being surrounded by the inferior.

“I’d be luckier alone with you.” You leaned in, whispering just low enough for him to hear. You were feeling brave enough to get suggestive with him, hoping that he would catch your tone and give you some time alone. You felt his hand pressing against the small of your back as he pulled you in closer, your mind wondering as soon as you could breathe in his scent, a part of you forgot why you were truly here as it became drunker off of the male attention.

All it took was one look from him to his aide and you were being led by him, past his friends and family up another set of stairs. You heard the sounds of chatter, laughter and clinking glasses fade away as you were ushered into a private room, the doors swinging shut behind the two of you, finally realising that you were alone with him.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re really here?” He sighed, pulling at your wrist to tug you into his chest, his hot breath fanning in your neck as you stood pressed against each other, uncaring for the huge amounts of space that the room had to offer. Being so close him made you lose all of your inhibitions and suddenly the contract no longer mattered to you, the one thing that did however, was bedding the man who had you in a trance. In all your years of working contracts, nobody came above the job but now as your lips were inches away from his, George Weasley was more important.

"I'm here for you." You muttered, hand snaking up to tangle in his long, messy hair, giving the locks a gentle tug that made his eyes darken. Feeling him guide you backwards, taking small steps with him until your back hit a wall. His strong hand travelled its way up your leg, hoping to hitch it up to hook around his hip as he pushed every layer of fabric up so he could get a good look at the gorgeous thighs he wanted wrapped around his head. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt his fingers stop over your dagger, pulling it free from where it was held.

As his eyes surveyed over the intricate detailing of the handle, you couldn't help but avoid his gaze, startled only by the chuckle that fell from his lips. "A mark of the brotherhood… They send you to bed me and leave me vulnerable?"

You shook your head, watching as he pressed the dull side of the blade against your throat, his commanding eyes forcing you to look at him as he pressed himself closer to you. "They sent you to kill me?"

He pulled the dagger from your throat, shoving it into your hand as he laughed, pulling away from you, letting the skirt fall back in its place as he turned around to walk away from you and deeper into the room. It was obvious that he wasn't afraid by you, certainly less the prospect of you being able to kill him. You didn't like being underestimated, much less by someone who would be easy for you to kill. You pushed yourself away from the wall coming up behind the man and tackling him to the floor, hips straddled directly over his as you pressed the knife against his throat, watching the way his eyes lit up with surprise, his hands finding your hips to grip onto tightly.

"I like you, you've got a lot of nerve, probably one of the most gorgeous women I've ever laid my eyes on so tell me what's the contact worth?" He chuckled, hands tugging to grind your hips against his tentatively, watching as you fumbled to keep your thoughts straight. Composing yourself as you ignored the pleasurable feeling of your hips rocking against his, instead pressing the dagger closer to his throat. You were about to respond to his question when he cut you off quickly.

"Whatever it is I'll double it, hell I'd even triple it under two conditions." He spluttered quickly, hands stilling as he realised that you weren't to be messed with. You cocked your head to the side, pulling the blade from his throat as you considered what he had to say, dragging the tip of your dagger gently over his jawline and down his chest with a sickly sweet smile, the alluring confusion evident in your tone of voice "Conditions?"

"Condition one, Work for me and I'll pay better than any contract ever could and two, you're mine to have." He suggested, his tone coming across as commanding making it seem like you truly had no choice in the matter but you knew better.

"I don't belong to anyone, Weasley, especially not someone I work for." You bit back, watching as he laughed softly, hand gripping at your waist as he flipped you over, the dagger clattering against the floor as he pinned your hands down, back pressed firmly against the cold surface, feeling him press his lips to your exposed neck. "You belong to me now, seems a waste of such perfect breasts for you not to be."

"Were you going to whore yourself out for me? That's precious." His lips travelled down, peppering wet kisses along your collarbone as his hands still gripped onto your waist. Any semblance of fight in you disappeared the minute his lips were on your skin, a sick part of you adored how he wanted you but an even sicker part wanted him to take you.

"Where's the confidence, darling? Not ready to submit to me already, are you?" His voice was thick with arousal, hands finding their way to your hips again as he slowly ground his hips into yours, teasing you ever so slightly as he pushed himself closer to you. Somehow George had managed to shock you into silence, your head filled with nothing but the the image of him fucking you into the morning, not even room to think of a quick remark or retorting comment to quip back at him.

“You’re insufferable.” You breathed out, letting his strong arms pull you off of the floor, hoisting you up on his hips to trap you between the wall and his chest once again, his hand this time was quickly up your skirt once again, feeling the wetness that pooled between your legs that confirmed you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. “And yet you spread your legs for me with ease.”

He didn’t dare tease you any longer, pulling himself free and sinking into you like there was no time to lose. Just when you thought you were full, he had more to give and you were feeling stretched out beyond belief. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he pulled loud moans from you with every deep and slow thrust, the pleasure coursing through you had you rolling your head back which he only took as an invitation for him to wrap his hand around your throat, groaning lowly as his eyes flicked over the way your face contorted with overwhelming pleasure, “You’re so fucking tight.”

“George, please.” He hummed at the way your voice came out with the strained begging, feeling pleasure build in the pit of your stomach as you realised the churning movement you had been feeling throughout the evening had been butterflies, the building want and desire for the man who was now fucking you loudly into the wall.

“I like hearing you beg, what do you need, sweetheart?” He hummed, pressing his lips to your exposed neck, right over where your vocal chords were, feeling the vibrations of your moans flow through his lips, pushing him over the edge to pick up his pace, focused intently on making you cum as he found himself growing addicted to the way you squeezed around him.

“I need to- George, It feels so good.” He shook his head, pulling completely from you, letting your feet drop to the floor as he spun you around so that your chest was pressed to the wall, whines still falling from your lips as his hands were back up your skirt, pulling your hips into the right position to push himself inside you again, this time his hands pulled at the strings of your corset, tightening it to a point where it only added to the pleasure he was making you feel.

“You only get to cum when you ask for it.” With every thrust, it felt as if he was tugging your corset that little bit tighter. Pushing you closer and closer to the release you craved, so desperate for it that the only word that fell from your lips was ‘please’. Not what he wanted to hear. One of his strong hands pulled your hair into his fist, pulling your head back to rest on his shoulder, a smirk evident on his lips through the tone he used, “Please, what?”

“Please, I need to cum, George” You whined, hand coming up to wrap around his forearm, nails digging into his skin as his pace picked up finally, the hand still attached to the strings of your corset giving a final tug as you released around him, becoming a mess of spluttering moans for him as he pulled out of you, spinning you around once again to thread his fingers into your hair and pull you into a passionate kiss.

Something about the way his lips tasted made you never want to pull away, finding yourself chasing his lips as he pulled away to gaze over your features, a smile on his lips as he took in just how beautiful you were, feeling like for a moment he may have truly met his match, watching as your chest heaved while you slowly drank in the high he had given you. “Next time I hope to see these beautiful breasts in all their glory,”

“Next time? Thought you knew I have to kill you now.” You laughed as his fingers tucked your hair behind your ear, an action that sent a shiver down your spine. You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, head shaking slightly to sway the hair out of his eyes, an action that made you melt at the knees.

“Very funny, now about your first contract.” He spoke quickly, tucking himself away and making himself presentable before pulling you deeper inside of the room, standing you by a large painting, tilting your chin up to avert your gaze to a particular individual, “Know who that man is, angel?”

You swallowed thickly, eyes gazing over the large, pristine painting, well aware of who he was. The man that had set the contract over George’s head. You nodded at his question, his arm slinking around your waist as he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your ear. “Good, I want information; You tell him I’m dead and find out what his next move is, if you get me that, I’ll know you’re loyal, just for that I’ll pay you more than you’ve ever seen.”

“George, he’s the one that requested this cont-” You spoke quietly, his hand tugging you closer to his body, a deep sigh falling past his lips, leaving you in silence for a few moments until his warm toned voice spoke up once again.

“I know, and you’re going to find out why, understand?” He sounded genuinely upset, the man who had ordered the hit on him was a close family friend, but yet someone who craved the power that George had. Part of you knew that it wasn’t just Cedric Diggory that wanted him dead but he was the only one with enough money to make the bounty worth it, and yet you had found yourself wound up on his side. “Good girl.”

Your chest was still heaving as you stepped through the opening double doors, this time hand in hand with the man who you had come here to kill, something had changed in your time alone and you knew that you would be the last person to hurt him. You were running off the high of belonging to someone, a new contract and the willingness to submit. You were George’s new personal weapon, a force that even he didn’t know the true extent of. Better to have you on his side than against him, as good as you felt against him after all.

taglist // @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @pansydaisy @vogueweasley @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @witch-and-a-half @loony-loopy-lupinn @rip-us @hopemalfoyweasley @pigwidgexn

#george weasley x reader #george weasley fic #George Weasley #george weasley smut #george weasley angst #harry potter smut #harry potter fic #harry potter writing #Harry potter #Smut #ginger hair

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adultswim2021 · 2 years

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Metalocalypse #1: “The Curse of Dethklok” | August 6, 2006 – 11:45PM | S01E01

Metalocalypse! Brendon Small's follow-up series to Home Movies! I've always considered myself a liker and appreciator of this program, but it was never a favorite. That's sorta the sweet spot for me when it comes to revisiting Adult Swim shows, cuz I haven't seen this in a very long time.

First: I wanna reflect on my earliest memories of this show: I think people were envisioning this as being much more like Home Movies, as if they were giving Dwayne a spin-off the same way Hank Hill was basically a Tom Anderson spin-off. The first glimpse of the animation did not really excite me, but I can recognize it as necessary in the world of low-budget television. They wanted to do a show with a grand scope and a cinematic feel and unfortunately skimping on the actual animation was probably the thing to do. I just think this show less resembles a cartoon program and more resembles those missing Dr. Who episodes where they do animations to go along with the show's audio.

But the show is funny, and it did grow on me, and I eventually became a regular viewer. I even own the first three seasons on physical media. The main reason I sorta arms-legth this show is that it seems like an appreciation or familiarity with metal is a big help. That's not me! But, I think I sorta get the joke.

The main idea behind the show is that it's about a metal band called Dethklok, which happens to be the biggest band in the world. In fact, they are one of the largest economies in the world. I'm guessing the satire comes from the way real-life metal bands tend to self-aggrandize while actually consisting of chowderheads and dumbfucks. Because Dethklok is also made up of chowderheads and dumbfucks. This show is like if a metal band’s lies about itself were true. It's also like if Beavis and Butt-head took over the world. Lots of people would probably die brutal deaths, which happens nearly every episode of this show.

The specific plot of this episode is that Dethklok are debuting a jingle for a coffee company with a mountaintop concert where die hard fans have to traverse the mountain and sign a waiver disavowing Dethklok of any penalty for causing their accidental death. Dethklok drops the stage via their huge mansion-sized helicopter, crushing many of their supporters. Part of the show involves pouring scalding hot coffee onto their fans. There's probably a deeper satirical comment about how those who rule us, and I'm not talking about entertainers, have nothing but barely-veiled disdain for us, and would like to see us all drop dead. Not sure what that satirical comment would be. Could THIS be it?

A subplot involves their personal helicopter chef getting obliterated by an errant firework and getting chopped up in the helicopter blades. Without him this requires the band to venture into a supermarket for the first time ever. This is a much more traditional fish-out-of-water comedy scene which the show does pretty well, and there's a lot of good character-based comedy here. The difference between Dethklock's first scene and this scene is almost night-and-day; as if all the pilot jitters were exorcised midway through the show, and the performances became loser and the characters more defined at this point. Not sure about the production of this show, if they made a pilot and scrapped a significant portion of it or what. But this seemed to be the era of pilot-less greenlights, and this show did not take the previously oft-taken route of debuting a pilot special first and then going to series. This one was weekly right out of the gate.

We also get a glimpse into an overarching story-line where we see some sort of deep state organization monitoring Dethklok's activities. They help cement the stark contrast between Dethklok's image and who they actually are: extremely stupid dipshits who got famous and became the most powerful people in the world basically by accident. They are introduced by a guy who plainly speaks the lyrics of the theme song. “unfortunately that's all we know”. Ah yes! We still have a lot to learn!!!

Oh yeah. I have to jam this in: I guess this is the first regular series to be letterboxed on Adult Swim (Lucy: The Daughter of the Devil was also letterboxed, but would make a point to break out of the letterbox bars during certain scenes; also it was just a pilot and not a regular series at the time). The show was produced in SD, natively in 4:3, which meant that when they showed these pre-HD episodes during the HD era they’d stretch them, black bars and all, rather than zoom in on them. I guess upscale technology has gotten better because now they have been converted to 16:9 without the black bars on HBOMax. Looks pretty good. But, man, fuck that autoplay feature. This show has stuff going on during the credits most episodes, so please, keep your remote nearby to wave it away. Shit sucks.

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #metalocalypse

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

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Lady Cross (first aid)

Summary: Somehow, Marinette always ends up biting off more than she can chew. It started off with a kid and a nasty gash on their knee. The sudden escalation to treating the new head of Gotham’s underworld? It can only be explained by the fact that she’s catnip for trouble.

_____________________________________________

Marinette supposed she should have expected something like this to happen eventually.

Really, she patches up a few street kids and offers a meal and some resources and suddenly she's made a name for herself in the slums of Gotham. It’s not like she’s doing anything revolutionary. Well, okay, maybe she does cheat a little bit and uses her healing powers on a few of the tougher cases that really should have been out of her realm of expertise, but she’s living near the slums of Gotham for a reason. That reason being Marinette is just a little broke and can’t really afford to send everyone she comes across to the hospital, and the people who are injured certainly can’t. It’s not like she can leave them to die. That would be heartless.

When she stopped treating scrapes and cuts for kids on the streets as she came across them and instead found her apartment balcony frequented by families who needed her help, she couldn’t just say no. And so, more and more serious wounds started coming in. Kids brought their parents and friends. The parents and friends brought... well, if the police stopped by her apartment any time soon, she’s fairly certain they’d have a field day.

But again, it’s not like she’s going to turn these people into the police when they’ve come to her for help and have a small army of people who swear up and down that they’re good people and only doing what they have to do in order to get by.

Morality comes in such a variety of shades, who was she to judge? Ladybug and Marinette have both certainly had their fair share of mistakes that they’d gladly go back in time to rectify, and her hands weren’t clean of blood either. Sure, the Miraculous Cure may have brought people back, but their deaths were still on her. And Hawkmoth? Yeah, he’s alive now, but she hammered him into the pavement after dropping him from the top of the Eiffel tower, and she’s not going to pretend that she didn’t take a bit of morbid joy in that moment.

But back to the matter at hand. Which was, the notorious Red Hood—responsible for a coup amongst Gotham’s drug dealers and responsible for taking down a man whose morality truly vanished with the wind, Black Mask himself— was currently bleeding out on her second floor balcony, smoking a cigarette and lounging against the rail like he owned the place.

“Lady Cross,” he inclined his head.

“Red Hood,” Marinette returned his greeting.

God, she really didn’t want to get involved with Red Hood. She wasn’t opposed to helping out street thugs and criminals, but Red Hood was a different league. He seemed to be a fairly decent guy, ensuring that kids weren’t dealt drugs and tried to keep them out of the circuit as much as possible. He took down plenty of worse criminals while he was at it. In fact, Marinette would go so far to say the Red Hood as one the good guys.

But the issue was, once she started treating people of a certain level, she’d be open game. And that didn’t seem very enticing to her. Not at all. Everyone knew that Red Hood had beef with the Bat Family for some reason or other, and also made enemies with almost every single rogue in Gotham, and a good number of enemies outside of it as well. Basically, Red Hood was a universal enemy of both the vigilantes and rogues. Someone she shouldn’t get involved with while she was trying to investigate the darkness surrounding Gotham whole running her online boutique and going to college at Gotham University.

Unfortunately, Tom and Sabine and her own stint as Ladybug taught her that she could never ignore someone in need. Marinette sighed and slid the mesh open, leading Red Hood to her living room. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Real nice place you got here,” he said.

With the mask covering the whole of his face, Marinette had no facial expressions to figure out whether he was poking fun at her current living situation or not. His voice sounded genuine, but vocal emotions were easy to fake.

The apartment she was living in was not on the nice side of town. There were three bullet holes in the wall between her living room and bedroom that she just didn’t have time to patch up, some pretty nasty looking stains on the ceiling near her kitchen, and a huge, spray painted red cross on one of her walls, which was where her street name derived from. Her floor and coffee table were also in states of disarray; she hadn’t gotten the opportunity to clean up after working on two commissions and the last guest whose wounds were heavy enough to warrant several rolls of gauze, which was now half stuffed into a garbage can sitting next to rolls of fabric. Perhaps not the neatest or most sanitary situation, but she didn’t have time to clean up before every single one of her unexpected guests came in.

Look, it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t have time to fix things up real nice and neat. She’d only been living in the apartment for a month and a half, and most times, she barely spent any time in it other than to sleep, cram last minute projects for her design course, or to help heal people. Her living situation wasn’t the biggest of worries.

“Sit,” Marinette gestured to the one of the few pieces of furniture that she specifically bought for the apartment. She didn’t mind the stained, half broken, and extremely creaky couch the last owners left behind for the first week, but after she started bringing back her first… visitors, it seemed important that the couch was comfortable, sturdy, and most crucially, cleanable.

Rummaging through a cabinet, she pulled out a tattered briefcase she thrifted a while back to keep all of her medical supplies in. Not the prettiest of things, but she tried not to keep expensive looking items in her apartment because she wasn’t a fan of getting mugged. The medicine she kept was already expensive enough, she didn’t need to attract everyone’s attention by owning one of those metal containers used in hospitals. Even though most of the people who dropped by her apartment were thankful to be treated, she had a few instances where people tried to steal things from her.

“What’s the damage, doc?” Red Hood’s voice came through rather tinny through his helmet.

Marinette grimaced. The helmet must have awful air circulation. It looked like some sort of metal, and wet and metal never smelled good together. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Thought you were supposed to be some mystic healer who came from the far east.”

She paused and looked at the man, trying to judge whether he was racist as well as rude. “That’s rather insulting.”

Red Hood shrugged. Marinette applauded the man for showing no outward sign of pain at that, even though there was a bullet embedded in his shoulder, and shrugging had to bite. “That’s what the word on the street is, though you sound French to me. Thought I’d come and check out who’s healing Gotham’s criminals. What’re you planning?”

“Sorry to foil your plans, but I’m not planning anything other than getting my college degree and not pissing off the people I live near.” She paused, flipping the lock on the briefcase upwards. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use me as your go to healer from now on. You’re going to bring trouble my way.”

“Trouble? Me? Perish the thought.” His hand rested comfortably on the holister of his gun, ready to shoot if the girl pulled out a weapon from the briefcase. “We’ll talk about repeat appearances after I see how you do today.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Any wounds other than the obvious?”

“Just need the bullet out, and some stitches on the gash.” His shoulder and his abdomen, respectively. The gash looked nastier than the bullet; no shrapnel, but the cut on his stomach was jagged and wide. Not a normal, sharp blade. Probably needed a good cleaning.

She grabbed the tweezers, a sterilized needle, and medical thread. “That’s fine. Now are you going to undress, or am I going to have to cut your… costume… up?”

“Getting me naked already? We haven’t even had our first date yet.”

“Very funny, little Red Riding Hood. Now hop to it. I have class at 9 tomorrow and projects to finish tonight.” Somehow, trouble always seemed to find her when she least wanted it to. Not that she wanted to have trouble find her at all, but luck was a two way street, and for all that being Ladybug granted her good luck, she attracted criminals like catnip.

“And here my informants had me thinking you were a regular Florence Nightingale.”

Marinette snorted. “They wish. I’ve got to ask who told you, because everybody should know the rules. You know, the ones where they don’t speak of my existence to their higher ups?”

“I’m not a rat,” Red Hood said, taking the top part of his outfit off. “And it’s not like you would have gone unnoticed anyways. You might be treating small timers now, but people catch on to healers pretty easy.”

“Because some gauze and sewing skills make me such a prime target.”

“No, your magic does.”

Shit. Marinette never told anyone she was using magic, and she rarely used it unless it was a dire situation. If she could patch them up using regular skills, she did.

“Yeah right, if I had magic healing powers, do you think I’d be shoving my fingers into your shoulder to get a bullet out?”

“Not a very good liar, Lady Cross. You have this deer-caught-in-the-headlights look about you.”

“Thanks for the compliment. I’m also the deer that tramples through your windshield and takes a dump on the driver’s seat.” She maneuvered the tweezers a little rougher, hoping to make Red Hood hiss in pain. He just chuckled, amused. His high pain tolerance was getting rather annoying. She had half a mind to pour hydrogen peroxide over the wound just to see if that would make him show he was in pain, but thought better of it. Even though she didn’t like the man, she also didn’t want to piss him off. Or worse, have him come back and make her fix him up again.

Threading the needle, she made quick, small stitches on his shoulder, sewing the bullet hole up, then put some petroleum jelly to speed up the healing process and reduce scarring. At least the wound was in a position that didn’t require a lot of gauze. She needed to go out and buy some more soon. She barely had enough to wrap around Red Hood’s waist.

“So, the magic,” Red Hood started. “Is it a conditional thing? Can you not use it all the time?”

“Again, I don’t have magic.” Marinette did have to use some antibacterial on the knife wound. He would need to take good care of that one to make sure it didn’t get infected.

“So a meta, then. What are you doing in Gotham? Everybody knows Batman hates metas.”

“Not a meta, either, sorry to disappoint.” She tied off the gauze, then stood to wash her hands. “Make sure to clean the stomach wound well. Hope you have your tetanus shot, otherwise you should look into getting one.”

“Surprisingly, I’m inclined to believe you on the not-a-meta thing. Back to the first thing, then. Magic. Why don’t you show me the old razzle dazzle? Do you have to say one of those weird spells like the godmother in Cinderella? Bibbity bobbity boo?”

“You’re hilarious,” Marinette dead panned.

“How’s this for magic? Bibbity bobbity boo, kindly leave. Shoo.” She followed his suggestion, made a show of jazz hands as well. “Pity I don’t use magic otherwise you’d be gone now. Anyways, it’s time for you to make your exit. It would be great if you didn't visit me again. Ever. Thanks.”

She ushered him out onto her patio, then slammed the sliding door. He saluted her before dropping off the side of the building. She could imagine the man under the helmet smirking.

Marinette ran a hand through her loose hair. “He’s going to come back, isn’t he.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

#jasonette july #first aid #jasonette #marinette dupain cheng #jason todd #gotham #original content #bamf marinette #sassy marinette #miraculous ladybug #maribat #dcu #red hood hears of a mystic healer and decides to check her out

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

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When Fate Intervenes // Luke Patterson

IN WHICH: Fate intervenes with a trio of musicians on the night that was supposed to be legendary. Fate puts the reader with a special ability that may or may not be able to save them. Fate puts a clairvoyant, an accidentally upsized pizza and thirteen year old oddly obsessed with a rock band.

Warnings: Swearing, food poison, death, and fluff

Words: 2.8k

A/N: Time to get rid of some fic ideas from my TOO LONG of a list. It’s Julie fault, she keeps encouraging each fic idea I tell her.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

The Orpheum, 1995

The line up comprised of countless girls wearing homemade band shirts for the new band performing. Your little sister, at thirteen years old, had pleaded for weeks if not three months to go watch it. It was odd since she was more in the pop scene than the rock music. Your parents would never let her go to the rock show at night, so it was you or no show. It took a promise of doing your chores for an entire month and her dessert for two months. That was why you stood beside Harper among the fangirls while you clicked through the camera you’d saved up for years.

“I’m so excited.” Harper buzzed dancing on your feet as the time on her watch dwindled down more and more.

Your eyes flitted from the screen to the ball of energy you called your little sister, “I can tell. Which one do you have a crush on?”

“Reggie. He’s the bassist and so fucking-sorry freaking cool.” Harper gushed, “A good portion of the fans are obsessed with the lead singer Luke. Bobby is the rhythm guitarist, and he’s a ladies man, but he’s sweet about it.”

“And you’d know that how?” You questioned letting go of the camera around your neck. Your e/c eyes meeting her matching pair of irises; well yours were a bit more vibrant.

“I just know.” Harper retorted before beaming as she roughly poked the pin she’d made herself, “This represents all of them. Red for Reggie’s plaid shirt he always has, orange for Bobby’s love of oranges, yellow for Luke’s energy and pink for Alex because he loves the colour!”

The pin had their band design with Sunset Curve on it with the words outlined with a sunset made up of red, orange, yellow and pink just as Harper had pointed out. By far, it was her best work, but that was expected from an art student at Los Feliz High School. An art school for artists and performers. You attended for photography and creative writing just as Harper attended for art.

“That might be your best work Harps.” You complimented your little sister who shivered in the cool night breeze. You didn’t even think about tugging off your warm jacket to place on her shoulders.

You’d rather be cold than your little sister no matter how much you fought with each other, the Y/L/N siblings had each other’s backs no matter what.

“Thanks.” Harper murmured, leaning closer, “So do I meet Reggie?”

Your eyes widened slightly at her subtle goading to a part of your life was cinematic. It was a piece of you that very few people knew about, only your parents and Harper. Like most of the women in your paternal lineage, you carried the ability to foresee events in the future. A clairvoyant.

“Harper!” You scolded the young teenager who blatantly was just over-excited to see the band she’d been talking about constantly.

Harper’s cheeks turned a cherry blossom pink under the crappy lighting from the marquee sign. Even in the light, you noticed the changes in her face as she matured into a young woman, her cheeks while still full didn’t have that baby cheek look now. You saw a stubborn zit that you could see under the makeup that didn’t entirely match her skin tone. It caused an ache in your heart to know that soon she’d have the experience of heartbreak.

“Sorry!”

“You told me these guys are my age. Need I remind you that you are thirteen? If anyone older than thirteen makes an advance I’ll put my softball skills to the test.” You sternly informed the shorter girl with the pout that screamed rebellion, “Just be a kid Harps.”

“Like you said Y/N, I’m thirteen. I’m not a kid anymore.” Harper dropped the attitude to adopt a more mature soft tone. You could see the tinge of sadness in her eyes at losing the part of life where it was easy.

“I know. I can wish you’ll stay that annoying little kindergartener that stole my clothing.” You chuckled, “You’ll always be the Stephanie to my DJ.”

The two Y/L/N siblings momentarily glanced around before hugging as quickly as possible, they still had reputations to uphold. Had you been actually paying attention, you and Harper would have noticed the commotion from the people behind you.

As you and Harper had the sweet moment, the very band performing had raced out the alley into the street. What brought you back to the surroundings was the pizza boy delivering the pizza box to you.

“Wait, we ordered a small!” You exclaimed finding the boy holding an extra-large pizza. You only received a shrug in response with the right change given back.

Two things happened with this food mistake, you didn’t have to pay more than what you actually ordered, and you still got the larger pizza. However, the Orpheum didn’t allow outside food, meaning you’d have to force-feed yourself all the pizza or trash more than half.

“We could shar-” Harper was cut off as a blinding white light became your focal point. Harper knew what was happening by the specific groan coming from your lips.

A nauseating scent of cheap meat, gas and chemicals flooded your sense of smell in the dingy alleyway. It was nighttime with a few people in the general vicinity with a dilapidated table and mismatched chairs on the walls’ edge. A poorly made sign with Sam & Ella’s and going by the vendor selling the hot dogs the name fit. Sam & Ella sounded like salmonella.

From a distance, you couldn’t quite hear the conversation between three male teens, but you had a bad feeling. They all migrated to a ratty couch that had been better days, a rat wouldn’t even crawl on it you swore.

The first boy had slicked back hair with rosy cheeks you dubbed innocent and cute that juxtapositioned his rocker attire. He had polished black leather shoes, pleather if his choice of food was an indication, a leather jacket and a red plaid shirt around his waist. His attention focused on the two guys beside him. In the middle, the boy had the blue hood of his sweater pulled over his messy brown hair as if hiding. Nothing stood out about him, and it seemed like that was intentional. On the other side, the last one was the tallest with his blonde hair hidden by the backwards black hat. A distressed dark grey jean jacket open to proudly display his pink hoodie. Each one wearing black pants and adorning rings.

“This is awesome, you guys. We’re playing the Orpheum!” The middle boy joyfully spoke head in the clouds instead of the questionable surroundings. He arguably had the loveliest smile you had ever seen, and his friends had nice smiles at that as well.

Yet even if this hadn’t taken place, however, it still felt like you were intruding on something incredibly private, “Why am I being shown this?”

Your question went unsurprisingly unanswered.

“I can’t even count how many bands have played here! And then ended up being huge!” He happily sunk into the back of the couch, thinking of all the bands he had CDs to in his room, “We’re gonna be legends!”

“Oh.” You breathed as you caught a whiff from the boys that quickly gave you the understanding of why you saw this. You could only smell what you had dubbed as death, the scent unchanging from the first time you’d encountered it.

The death stench accompanied a clairvoyant vision if the object of your vision was sick or about to die. The first time you encountered, it was a vision of two cars colliding, the sound of shattering glass and crunching metal, the scent of burning flesh overpowering the milder stench. The next morning school was cancelled after a teacher died in a car accident on the way to work.

“Eat up, boys. ’Cause after tonight, everything changes.” The only vocal one continued with his two friends silently listening. The trio toasted their food together.

“No!” You exclaimed as each boy took a bite. You held your breath, hoping that the inevitable in the vision wouldn’t occur.

Unfortunately, it was right away the warning appeared. The blonde one the most affected, “That’s a new flavour.”

“Chill, man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” The leather jacket guy proudly spoke, the least one concerned.

Even the guy in the middle was concerned but ultimately continued eating.

“Stop it!” You shouted, but it was no use. As with every vision, you had the potential to stop it from coming true, but while in the vision, you couldn’t interact with the people or surrounding. No matter how much you wanted to slam the food out of their hands.

But one thing sends shivers down your spine. The one in the middle made direct eye contact with you. Something that had never happened before nor to any previous clairvoyants. He kept eye contact as he slowly grew sicker and sicker.

The three boys had no chance as the ambulance rushed to the alleyway to save them. The paramedics weren’t as quick as the vendors who’d already packed and fled to protect their own hides.

You watched as the paramedics did everything in their power to save the young teenagers with everything possible. Just like Luke sang in their last song, the boys felt the darker version of an electric hammer to the heart. The clocks freezing in place as they each took their last breathe in the oddest of deaths. You saw the blonde guy die painfully first before followed by the formerly hooded one, the terrified cries of the last one haunting your phantom ears.

How did three healthy teenagers die on the same night of the exact nature within minutes of each other without one surviving? Maybe it had something to do with the hot dogs chilling in the liquid that was a cesspool of bacteria compounded with tained condiments from battery acid.

You roughly came out of the vision shaking and pale-faced frantically scanning the surroundings. Harper had a grip on the extra large pizza box while the other tightly held yours to ground you in the present.

“Are you okay?” Harper softly questioned with the panic hidden inside her body. Harper knew that this vision had been one of the bad ones. The haunted look in your eyes hinting towards death in the near future.

“We need to go.” You frantically replied, grabbing the pizza that would hopefully have a hand in saving three hopeful teens.

Your gym teacher would be proud of the distance diminished and speed you kept towards the area that would further shatter you. Foreseeing death and sometimes unable to stop it always had a nasty impact on you.

“Where are we going?” Harper yelled, “We’ll miss the doors opening!”

“We’ll miss them if we don’t hurry up!” You shouted back at the disgruntled little sister but at the moment that didn’t matter.

What mattered was three hungry teenagers about to gorge themselves on death dogs if you didn’t make it in time. It appeared for the first time you’d actually manage to stop the deaths, unlike the previous three times.

“-tonight. Everything changes.” The chill-inducing rasp helped navigate you to the disgusting couch. Your cold hand slammed the hotdog from the blonde’s hand, the shocked reaction halting the other two.

“Don’t...eat...it.” You heaved bending over at the waist to catch your breath. Wheezing sounded from your little sister as the running and seeing her favourite band up close settled.

“Excuse me! I paid for that hotdog!”

“You’d be buying yourself death literally. Your dreams of playing the Orpheum would be extinct.” You sighed, chugging the water from the pocket of Harper’s backpack for a few seconds before the owner took it back.

“Okay, look I don’t know how you found us but-”

“You don’t have to believe me ’cause I sure as hell wouldn’t have but don’t jeopardize your dreams. Look my little sister wanted to see your show so I brought her and we ordered a pizza. They fucked up the order by giving us an extra-large pizza. We’ll barely eat a quarter of it, and the venue is strict on the rules.” You rambled using tour hands to elaborate the story before Harper roughly elbowed your ribs, “Ow!”

“Oops.” Harper faked a sugar-sweet smile for your benefit as the interaction with the three musicians slowly dove into embarrassment.

“-sorry. You’d be doing us a favour by not wasting our money and food. What do you say?” You hesitantly asked the trio who didn’t speak vocally; their eyes meeting in a silent conversation.

Reggie sighed as he begrudgingly dropped his hotdog in the bin near the couch, “Pizza outranks street dogs even if the dogs are heaven and to die for.”

“Literally.” You grumbled forcefully pushing the obscenely large pizza box into the middle one’s stomach, “I’m Y/N, this is my little sister Harper.”

“Hi.” Harper shyly waved with cheeks turning a dust pink concealed by the dark of the alleyway. The boys’ lips all quirked at the sudden contrast from the confident sister slamming her elbow in you to the bashful teen.

“I’m Luke. This is Reggie and Alex.” The hooded one, Luke, introduced his bandmates as best he could with his hands occupied by the pizza box.

Without the threat of death by the hot dog, you actually took the time to look at Luke with appraising eyes. His eyes were like oceans of blues, greens and even a brown that both exhilarated you; the desire of studying them not surprising. His smile outshone the sun on the hottest day in August.

“Nice to meet you.” You informed the trio with a beaming smile that matched your starstruck little sister. The interaction gave you the opportunity for immense and untiring future teasing on the teen that daydreamed of the bassist.

You had to admit the trio were incredibly attractive.

“Come back to the dressing room. We can eat there out of the cold.” Alex courteously invited the two formerly strangers. His blues sharing his pure intentions to repay you for saving their lives and offering pizza.

“Of course.” Harper nodded her head with her eyes barely meeting the ones of the boys. The shell was broken when Reggie piped up.

“That’s a really cool pin! Where’d you find it?”

Gated Community, Los Angeles, 2002

An off-tune humming filled the modestly sized home in the suburbs of Los Angeles, California with the sound of water splashing. Doing the dishes was a mindless chore that typically didn’t bother you, but the pain in your lower back protested. You’d have used the dishwasher, but the thing was perpetually breaking down. Didn’t seen essential to replace when washing dishes by hand was just as productive.

Or it was when you didn’t have the extra weight in your midsection, a symbol of your love with your husband. In fact, you would have avoided doing dishes if you hadn’t just used the last clean plate and glass at breakfast plus Luke hadn’t been home in the previous week.

Sunset Curve had gone on a press tour for the upcoming album and tour planned for next year.

“Oof.” You moaned as the little rascal once more hit your bladder, “Are you breaking electric guitars in there?”

“Not a soccer player?”

“With you as their father? Not likely.” You snorted as the sudden appearance of Luke became clear. You hadn’t been expecting him, “I missed you. We missed you.”

As had it since you first told him Luke’s warm hand came to rest on the front of your swollen belly. In a short month, you’d be cradling the newest member of the Patterson family with Luke singing the lullaby he solely made for baby P.

“Still haven’t given in?” The lead guitarist teased you with a beaming smile splitting his face, “Go sit down. I’ll finish the dishes.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice.

“I’m not abusing my clairvoyance to foresee our child’s gender, name and appearance.” You pointed one finger in his direction, “I refused Bobby’s pleading to see which models he would bed. The only time I did something like that was to reassure Alex that he would fall in love with a lovely guy.”

Luke’s heart burst with sheer adoration at how easily you had sunk into the friendship with the band after that one night. A night that had given birth to a friendship that slowly evolved into a romance and marriage. To this day, the group got together as much as possible.

“I love you.” Luke chuckled, “Even-”

“-if I came into your life like a completely crazy person?”

“We’re all a little crazy.”

Your house surely would be when a little tornado with Luke’s energy took over the home you’d made with Luke. The very home you would have more children and grow old together until soon you held your grandkids on your laps.

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buckyskorpion · 4 years

Text

11 hours - part six

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: so i was gonna leave this on ANOTHER doozy cliff hanger but i genuinely thought i would get lynched so i decided to just leave it at a baby cliffhanger. a lot happened in this chapter and a lot of seeds have been planted for future chapters..... so lemme know what you think hehe. predictions?? angry letters?? pitchforks??? lemme know!! i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist | please donate to my ko-fi!

masterlist

“You’re very calm for someone with a gun to their head.”

Honestly, you had been thinking the same thing. Sure, your stomach feels like a snake pit and your hands are sweating and you don’t think you’ve ever been more aware of your own heart beat, but other than that - you don’t understand why you aren’t panicking more. There are three men standing in front of you, one behind, all with guns. They’re wearing matching leather jackets with an octo-head patch on the sleeve, and they all look very scary. Briefly, you wonder if Bucky has a jacket like this, with a patch on to match his family. It’s an irrelevant detail you can’t help but fixate on right now.

Bucky. Hopefully listening on the other end of the phone you have tucked in your back pocket which your kidnappers haven’t been bothered to check yet, thankfully. You flex your wrists against the zip ties holding you to a chair and ask, “Where am I?”

“You should know,” your stalker turned kidnapper says with a condescending sneer. “You followed me here.”

“The Lerna?” you clarify, for the sake of hopefully someone on the other end of your mobile picking it up. You glance around at the old-style bar; chipped wood and beer stains, a rickety pool table one of your stalker’s friends is using as an arm rest. You curl your nose up at it - a little proudly, you note it has nothing on Sam’s bar.

“Do you recognise the place?” your stalker asks. That throws you. You want to ask what he means by that, why you would recognise this gross bar you’ve never stepped foot in, but you clench your teeth and school your face.

Once your dad sat you down in a chair much like this one, in his office at the house you grew up in. You were eleven, maybe, and you didn’t quite understand why he was tying your hands to the back with a necktie but you went along with it. He did this, sometimes - would orchestrate some strange lesson when his nightmares got really bad, his ghosts chasing him inside the house until he saw enemies in lampshades and kitchen cabinets. To keep you safe, he would say, and then he sat opposite you and asked what you would do if anyone ever put you in this position against your will.

“Kroshka, they will use anything against you,” he had said, and you see that now with the way these men are looking at you for any weakness. But you didn’t understand then, you were a kid thinking your dad was spiralling again, so he had cast around until he found a beer bottle on the coffee table. “See, like this. When the label is flat it’s fine, but as soon as one little corner lifts you can’t help it - you have to peel it all the way off. Don’t give them any corners, kroshka.”

You blink, once. The man in front of you scowls when you don’t answer, presses forward into your space in a show of intimidation. You try not to flinch, but that fear you were missing before is starting to set in real fast. What did he mean, do you recognise it? And why the hell are you so prepared for a situation like this, almost as if your dad has been training you for it since you could remember?

“Fine,” your stalker says, his breath fanning over you with how he’s leaning into your space. “Maybe you can answer something else, about your boyfriend.”

“Dunno who you’re talking about,” you say. It’s not a lie - technically, you hadn’t had the ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ chat with Bucky yet. This man is not appreciative of your loopholes. He grabs your hair and yanks your head back, pressing his glock into your neck. You shiver, both at the pain and the cold of the metal. Through gritted teeth and mild hyperventilation, you say, “As a matter of fact, I dunno who you are either. That’s kinda weird, dontcha think?”

You can practically hear Bucky in your head telling you to shut up, but he’s not here right now. No corners, just like your dad said. Doesn’t mean you can’t try and find some corners of your own.

What you meant as a question to buy some time, with a bit of attitude on the side, sends your stalker reeling back from you. He’s confused, eyebrows drawn down low and his friends behind him look to each other with the same expression. Now, you’re confused as well. Everyone in the room stands (or sits, in your particular predicament) in a pure state of what the fuck is going on. It would be funny, if there wasn’t still a gun to the back of your head.

“You don’t know the patch?” the man asks, gesturing to the sleeve of his jacket. When you don’t respond he continues, slowly, reiterating his question from before but as a statement, “You don’t recognise this place.”

You have zero idea what’s going on, but whatever you’ve said seems have thrown your kidnappers for a bit of a loop, so you decide to roll with it. You say, and hope to god the man standing behind you doesn’t shoot you for it, “I’m starting to think you’ve lost control of this situation, pal.”

From the corner of the room behind you, a familiar husky-toned red head says, “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

Shots ring out, shattering the windows as one by one your stalker’s friends drop like dominos. Someone crouches behind you and cuts you lose with a knife, and you hear it clatter to the floor as they launch over the back of your chair feet first into your stalker. Natasha. The flash of her red hair over your shoulder as she sends him flying is unmistakable. You scramble from the chair, fumbling for the knife she dropped but your hand slides through something thick, wet. The man behind you with the gun lies dead, throat slit, his blood now all over your fingers. It mesmerises you in a sickening way, making your stomach turn and your vision go fuzzy.

You’d never seen a dead body before. Now they are all around you, the bar smelling like blood instead of beer and the sound of bullets pinging off glass the only noise other than Natasha grappling with your stalker. She’s so small compared to him but she has her thighs clenched around his throat and he gasps for breath, clawing at her legs. You watch, stunned, as he gets a grip on her and throws her off, sending her crashing into the wall with a groan.

She hits the floor and you see red - all you can think is that’s Bucky’s family and that man is walking towards her, his gun trained on her body as she tries to pull herself to her feet, so you stop thinking at all. You picture the back of your stalker's neck like the dartboard at Sam’s bar and you throw.

Bullseye. Just like your dad taught you.

The man drops, knife buried in his neck and haemorrhaging blood. He gurgles this awful, awful sound as he clutches at his throat, trying and failing to push the blood back in. Natasha looks from your still outstretched hand, trembling in place, to meet your gaze. You can’t begin to decipher her expression, nor do you want to. You feel like you’re going to throw up, or choke, or scream, or all three. The man you just stabbed in the neck groans in pain, eyes rolling, coughing blood from his mouth in thick clumps. You can’t feel your hands anymore.

The door bangs open and you flinch, stumbling back until you trip on the chair you had been tied to and fall to the floor in a crumple of limbs. It’s Bucky, eyes wild and larger than life with a rage you’ve never seen before. He has a huge sniper-rifle slung over his back as he strides into the bar, stepping right over the writhing body of your stalker.

“I’ll deal with you in a second, Rumlow,” he practically growls, kicking aside the man’s hand that tries to grab for him. You scramble to your feet, practically tripping over yourself to get to Bucky. Doesn’t it say something about you that you run towards the man responsible for the death all around you?

You crash into Bucky hard, the force of the impact knocking the breath right out of you and once it’s gone you can’t get it back. It feels like his arms encompass the entirety of you as he holds you so tight your feet leave the ground. His chest rumbles with words but you can’t hear him, your ears are ringing and your chest is tight because panic attack, you dumbass. You press your face into Bucky’s neck and hope that’s enough to escape the scene unfolding around you.

“Get her out of here, I’ll deal with this,” you hear Natasha say somewhere behind Bucky but you refuse to lift your head to see.

Bucky attempts to pull away from you to look at Natasha, you can feel him try and twist his head but the inarticulate whine that rips from your throat stills the both of you. It’s mildly embarrassing, the sound you’ve just made, but it’s out there now. Bucky shifts his grip so one big palm rubs soothing strokes up and down your spine and you feel yourself becoming boneless with every pass of his hand.

“I’m not fucking lettin’ him get away with this,” Bucky says, low, threatening - if you were this Rumlow guy bleeding out on the ground, you would be afraid.

“And he won’t,” Natasha says, and then like she has to remind Bucky of his own thoughts, “but you have other priorities right now. Get her out of here.”

You feel Bucky nod, his scratchy chin moving against the top of your head. He kisses your temple and holds the back of your skull with one big palm, pressing your face further into his neck. It means you don’t see the carnage of the bar when he moves to place an arm around your shoulder and steer you out the door, stumbling under his guidance on shaky, cotton-fuzzy legs. He’s hurrying you, but as gently as he can. Once you feel the bright burn of sunlight on your skin you pull back from Bucky’s neck, blinking in the now empty street and Bucky’s piercing gaze as he looks down at you.

“Are you with me?” he asks, his hand dropping from your skull to squeeze the side of your neck. You still feel like you’re sipping each breath through a straw but you nod. You can see in his eyes he needs you to be with him right now, to get out of here, so you try and blink away the fuzzies in the corners of your vision and focus on his face.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and christ, now is not the time for that stinging pressure behind your eyes you hate so much. You hope Bucky understands - sorry for not listening to him, sorry for getting you both into this mess, sorry for not being strong when he needs you to be.

Bucky shakes his head vehemently, tugs you in harsh and strong by the grip he has on your neck to press a bruising kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter close at the fierce way he holds you, presses emotion into your skin like the tattoos littering his skin - a brand of your own, in the middle of this eerily empty street with the blood of strange men on both your hands. The thought makes you shake, so you twist your fingers in the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt and breathe him in deep.

“I’m sorry, doll,” he says, then pulls away from you. He grabs one of your hands from out under his shirt and links your fingers, beginning to drag you down the street. Looking back over his shoulder, he says with a grimace, “We gotta go.”

He leads you to his bike, squeezed between a brick wall and a dumpster in a side alley a block away from The Lerna. It roars to life before you’ve properly swung yourself on the back, and you aren’t bothering with helmets this time as Bucky eases the bike out from it’s tight spot with unsettling ease. All you can do is hold on tight and close your eyes as Bucky leads you away, weaving through the city in nonsensical loops before you feel the air open up around you and the familiar sounds of Brooklyn.

Bucky takes you to Steve’s tattoo in Red Hook, the first time you’re been back there since that fateful run-in with Natasha. You’ve checked out completely by the time Bucky parks - he has to lift you off the back of the bike because your legs won’t work, and he all but carries you inside. Steve is quick to rid the shop of the two customers looking at designs out front as Bucky settles you on the couch by the tattoo beds. You sink into the faded red leather without feeling a thing. Distantly, you notice the kid who usually mans the tills looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, and you suppose you deserve that.

“Stevie, I think she’s in shock,” you hear Bucky say, and the childhood nickname makes you smile. You watch Bucky’s face crease up deep concern at the dreamy look on your face, so you suppose you should stop smiling like a crazy person. A giant blonde head swims into your view, just as concerned, and he drapes a blanket around your shoulders.

“Bucky,” you say, your eyebrows drawing down as you fumble for his hand. He squeezes your fingers and mumbles something to Steve who leaves you again, his voice mingling with the kid’s somewhere over Bucky’s shoulder but you can’t focus on that. All you can do is swim in the back of Bucky’s too-deep stare and say, “I killed him.”

“No, no,” he says, shifting closer between your thighs as he kneels on the floor in front of you. This would be funny to you in any other moment, something to tease him for as he takes both your hands in his and squeezes them together, silently imploring you to stay looking at him. He says, “That’s not on you, sweetheart, it ain’t. You didn’t kill him.”

You’re crying now, properly, which you suppose is a good sign because you don’t think people in shock can cry. You watch as something cracks in Bucky’s eyes as he watches you break apart, but you can’t stop now you’ve started. You say, “I did, I killed him. How do you do it? How do you just- I feel like my throat’s gonna close up. How do you live past this?”

Bucky’s face darkens, smoothing out to something stone cold and frightening. You don’t feel scared, though, as he leans into your space so close you almost feel cross-eyed trying to stay glued to the blue of his eyes. He searches your face for something and says, no room for argument, “You did not kill that bastard, you hear me?”

“But-“

“No,” he says, simply, and that’s that. “The only reason you were in that position is because of me, doll, so no. You didn’t kill him. It’s on me, and I live with that so you don’t have to. You got that? You don’t ever have to live with that.”

You don’t know how he makes you feel like he’s physically reached into your chest and pulled out your guilt through your throat, but he does. You can see it clenched tight in his fist, his eyes shuttering down dark as he shoves it between his own teeth to hold. It’s too soon for the feelings clawing at your ribcage but you feel them just the same, that cigarette burn he left on your heart aching so bad you could scream from it. You extract a hand from his to run down his cheek, along his jaw, cupping his face in your palm. He closes his eyes, shudders as though swallowing down the guilt for the both of you.

I love you for that, you think to the soft flutter of his eyelashes against his cheeks. I’ll love you forever for that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Natasha returns to the shop, and Sam bundles in not long after that, the four bikers sit around Steve’s prematurely closed tattoo shop and have a family meeting. You can’t help but feel like the kid who’s stayed up past their bedtime to try and hang with the adults, the words flying over their head and sleep pulling at their eyelids but they fight to stay awake anyway. Bucky pulls your head into his lap as he sits on the couch beside you, so you lie there and let him stroke your hair while they discuss what happened over the past two hours.

Two hours, and that’s all it’s taken for your whole world to spin on it’s axis. You’d learnt to throw knives at tree trunks with your dad as a fun, albeit unconventional after-school activity. And now you’ve buried a knife in someone’s neck, you’ve been kidnapped and tied to a chair and watched Bucky gun down men from a rooftop with his sniper rifle. He pulled the trigger with the same fingers he’s carding through your hair now, nails scratching at your scalp in a way that makes your toes tingle. How is that at all ok?

“We’ve started a turf war with Hydra, now,” Sam is saying, sitting backwards on a chair facing Bucky and spreading his hands out in a placating gesture as Bucky bristles. “It was unavoidable, alright, I’m just saying.”

“Not necessarily,” Natasha says. “Rumlow has had a vendetta against Bucky for years. He could’ve been acting alone.”

“It is strange we haven’t heard anything from Pierce,” Steve says thoughtfully. He is pressing an icepack to Natasha’s back, already bruising from where this Rumlow guy threw her into the wall. She’s lifting up her t-shirt and you can see a glimpse of a back piece standing out stark against her pale skin. Giant, feathered wings and a talon, a mosaic piece of what looks like a large hawk spanning the length of her spine.

“When Pierce finds out it was us that shot up his bar, though,” Sam says, making meaningful eyebrow movements to the group. They all nod thoughtfully and fall into silence.

None of these names make much sense to you - Hydra, Pierce, even Rumlow who you’ve gathered by now was your stalker. Was, because he’s dead now, and the thought turns your mouth dry and rusted. You shift in discomfort, drawing Bucky’s attention down to you as he gives you a concerned once over. He had done a thorough analysis for any injuries, even after you’d assured him you were fine, but you can tell he’s still unconvinced.

Unfortunately for you, all your wounds appear to be mental. They’re getting deeper by the second.

“I keep thinking,” you say to Bucky, “why was he so surprised I didn’t know where I was? Or who they were?”

“Hydra is our biggest rival,” Bucky says, and huffs a laugh at your crinkly brow so he clarifies, “They’re another gang, one we’ve had a lot of run-ins with. Rumlow especially. He wasn’t our biggest fan.”

“So he expected you to have told me about him, and Hydra,” you say, the name unfamiliar on your tongue. He nods, and you have to ask, “Why didn’t you?”

Bucky frowns at that. “I already told you - the more you know, the more dangerous it is.”

“And I already told you, no secrets,” you say, frowning just as deep. A beat passes and Bucky doesn’t budge, just glares down at you like he can physically bore his opinion into your brain and make it yours. Exasperated, you say, “Bucky, it didn’t matter anyway - the danger found me. Telling me things like that isn’t going to make a difference.”

“It would’ve if you’d listened to me and not done the stupid thing,” Bucky says, raising his eyebrows. He may have a point, but you aren’t going to back down that easily. Bucky knows you, he knows if you see a loose thread you’re going to pull it. The fact he thought you’d listen to him tell you what to do at all is laughable.

“This gang is your life,” you say, and you don’t bother to hide your frustration now, “They’re your family. I’m no safer not knowing what’s going on - I got stalked and kidnapped regardless. Clearly, it’s dangerous no matter what, so just tell me, Bucky. Whatever it is.”

Bucky stares at you for a long time. Steve, Natasha, Sam - they cease to exist in this room with you. Those first few weeks, when you refused to stay the night in Bucky’s bed and would only see him to fuck - you used to be scared of looking into those eyes for too long, for fear of getting lost. Now you dive head first, a part of you hoping you do get lost so you never have to find your way back out again.

Eventually, Bucky clenches his jaw tight and says, “You’re right.”

You blink, surprised. You hear Sam whisper to Steve, “did you record that?”, and honestly, you wanna ask the same thing. Except the way Bucky is look at you- dread curls thick and choking in your gut. You look up at Bucky and he seem so far away, out of reach even though you feel him all around you. He continues stroking your hair but it’s absentminded, his mind far away too.

You are drawn back to the tattoo shop by Sam saying, “I gotta say, Barnes, your girl is smart as hell. Keeping your phone on you and out-smarting Rumlow in a hostage situation? Pretty badass.”

Bucky smiles briefly down at you, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. You turn to Sam and say, “I got the impression out-smarting Rumlow isn’t really that hard.”

Everyone laughs at that, even Bucky, and it clears away some of the dread eating away at your stomach. But it’s still there, acidic and bubbling no matter what you do to smother it.

Eventually, they grow tired of talking in circles about Rumlow and Hydra and the possibility of the feds showing up (Bucky assures everyone the cops will find no rifling on the bullets and won’t be able to pin them to the crime scene, but Sam mutters heard that before and an argument erupts about some debacle in Bucharest so you tune out). Bucky takes you back to his apartment, tucked securely in his leather jacket in the best kind of shock blanket you could ever ask for.

For the first time, you noticed the tiny embroidered star on the sleeve of his jacket. You wonder if all Bucky’s friends have the same star on their jackets, because they’re not just friends, they’re a gang. One you feel suddenly, irrevocably intertwined with since they’re the only reason you aren’t sitting in a jail cell for murdering someone.

You feel jittery as you walk into Bucky’s apartment, almost nervous. It looks the same as this morning, the coffee cups you used for Steve and Bucky still in the sink and hoodie of his you’d worn last night draped over a chair. But everything is different, now. It’s all changed, there’s weird new shadows over everything long after Bucky turns on the light. You linger in the doorway to Bucky’s bedroom while he rummages around for sweats and jumpers, laying out a pair for you before he begins changing himself. He shucks off his t-shirt and you see his tattoo sleeve, the mottled scars hiding underneath, and your heart flies out of your throat before you can stop it.

“So do you guys have a fun, spooky name like Hydra or what?” you ask, closing your eyes with a grimace as soon as you ask the question. What are you, twelve? Bucky doesn’t answer and you’re too afraid to open your eyes too see the look on his face.

You’re startled when you feel him kiss your cheek, sensing his large frame towering over you and blocking out some of the soft bedroom light. You open your eyes to find him smiling down at you, laughing at you with his eyes as he says, “Not so spooky. Steve named us, he called us the Howling Commandos. The HC, for short.”

You crinkle your nose up at him and he flicks the tip with his ringed fingers. You say, “That’s very old-fashioned.”

“Nat teases him for it all the time,” he says, “She calls us her barbershop quartet.”

You smile, imagining Bucky in suspenders playing the accordion, and say, “Now that I like.”

The longer Bucky looks at you the more sober he becomes, mouth becoming pinched and jaw muscle ticking. He holds you soft by the biceps and walks you back until you hit the wall, still gentle, but bracketing you in now so all you can see is the weight of whatever complicated thing is running across Bucky’s face.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me today,” he says. He shifts, grips your jaw tight so his rings dig into your skin with none of the gentleness of before - he means this. “Never do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, twisting in his tight grip to press a kiss to his fingertips. He softens, allows you to pull him in flush against you by his waist, his bare skin so warm under your hands. “And, thank you. I don’t- I guess I’ve never had someone come save me before, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t thank me,” Bucky says, shaking his head. He kisses you, a rough press of chapped lips against yours and is gone again before you can react. Says, “I’m sorry, too.”

“Come back,” you say with a pout, and you have just enough time to see Bucky smirk down at you before he’s kissing you again. It’s just as fierce, almost painful, but the rough slide of it distracts from the burn in your chest and your racing thoughts like razorblades. You lick into his mouth, chasing away the ghosts nipping at your heels, and he presses you back into the wall with a thunk hard enough to leave a bruise on your tailbone tomorrow. You don’t care. It feels good to hurt in a way that’s physical.

The ease with which Bucky picks you up makes your head spin. It’s all you can do but pepper kisses along his stubbled jaw as he carries you to the bed, lips suddenly ripped from his skin as he dumps you on the covers. He is quick to follow, squashing you down with his tongue in your mouth before you can take another breath. This, you know. All the messy feelings and heartache and fearfearfear that beats in time with your heart, that maybe you’ll lose him or he’ll lose you and you came so close today, is unfamiliar to the both of you. But arching your back off the bed so he can take your shirt off, scrubbing your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck as he peppers kisses across your tits with a trail of goosebumps left behind - this is how you know Bucky best.

He makes quick work of your clothes and you fumble with his jeans, laughing into his mouth as he bats your hand away to do it for you. Bucky bites your bottom lip in playful admonishment and you chase his mouth as he tries to pull away. He places one big palm on your clavicle and pushes down, holding you against the bed. He shakes his head at you with a smile.

“Stay,” he says like he would to a dog, grinning wide as you glare at him. But you do as you’re told as he leans over you to grab a condom with his left arm. Maybe you bend the rules a little to trail kisses up the bits of his outstretched forearm you can reach. Over a shadowy skull, the stem of a rose, what looks like military windings near the crook of his elbow and tiny handwritten letters that spell S N S. Sam Nat Steve, because Bucky might be a tough guy to most but he’s a giant sap deep down.

Bucky shudders at your touch, and it makes you wonder if the scarring under his tattoos is extra sensitive. Or maybe he is just sensitive to anyone touching him in such a vulnerable place. You flick your eyes up to watch him watch you, lip drawn between his teeth and a dent between his eyebrows you ache to soothe if he wasn’t still holding you down. You don’t stop, even though he looks physically pained with every brush of your lips against his skin. You trace the edges of another small wolf with your tongue, like the ones on his chestpiece, and watch as his eyes flutter closed when you get close to the paper-thin skin of his inner wrist.

That hits Bucky’s limit. Suddenly his hand on your chest slides up to your neck and he’s leaning over you, left arm braced by your head and his mouth swallowing yours. You groan against his lips at the rough drag of his hands down your sides, gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. He makes your brain go fuzzy, the only coherent thoughts being Bucky and touch me more. He seems to understand. His fingers find your clit, smoothing slow circles which spark embers in the pit of your stomach. Bucky’s mouth falls open as yours does, as if to breath in the whine he draws from you.

“Fuck, you always sound so good,” Bucky groans. He buries his face into the side of your neck, taking advantage of your thigh trapped between his legs to rut against you while he continues playing with your clit. Every time Bucky gets filthy with you it’s like the first time, shocking and almost embarrassing in the sexiest way possible. Heat floods your cheeks and makes you lightheaded, unable to stop the moan he draws from you. You’re rewarded by Bucky’s teeth in your neck, the sensitive spot just over your pulse point, and if you’re being honest you could come just from this.

Bucky’s cock growing harder against your thigh, as his hips shift in rhythm with the circles he draws on your clit, becomes too difficult to ignore. To gain his attention you twist and nip at the closest piece of skin you can find, Bucky’s ear, and he engulfs you in a kiss which steals the breath right out of you. You buck your hips, hoping to nonverbally convey the demand get in me right now, and Bucky doesn't need any more hints than that.

He fumbles with the condom for a second and you take the time to sit up on your elbows and look at him. Bucky is so beautiful, drawn in harsh lines and stark contrasts. Tan skin turned paler against the opaque black of his tattoos, colour swirling in-between and it should be jarring, but you think he just looks like art. Bitten red lips, startling blue eyes pinning you to the mattress as he catches you staring - such bright, primary colours because he is a statement piece, and one you could look at forever.

Bucky grins almost bashfully as you stare at him, leaning back over you to kiss you soft and sweet in a sharp juxtaposition to the rough tumble which got you here. Again, he sends your head spinning when the tender kiss is punctuated by the unexpected push of Bucky’s cock in your cunt. He bottoms out before you can blink, throwing your head back out of the kiss with an untamed groan - both pleasure and pain, in the good way. Bucky drags his teeth from your lips down your chin and neck, biting a mark into your collarbone to set the tone for the bruising pace he creates as he pounds into you.

He doesn’t do anything in halves, you think. You gaze up at him with an almost dopey smile while Bucky fucks the literal breath out of you. You lift your hips to meet him as he bottoms out with every thrust, watching in awe as his face creases up in ecstasy - it’s you who brings him there. He palms your tits like he can’t help himself, loses control in your pussy because you make him feel that good, and the thought makes you giddy. Drunk, almost, as you drag your nails down his chest and nearly come once again just from the moan you draw out of this brilliant, dangerous, gorgeous man.

“You take it so well, baby, fuck,” Bucky pants, eyebrows creasing as the pleasure gets almost painful in its build. You know the feeling. Bucky’s mouth is always your undoing, rolling your eyes back into your head and the sounds you’re making turning positively feral. He kisses you again, more a slam of mouths than anything finessed, and says, “Never gonna get over this, never gonna get over how good you feel.”

“Bucky, you gotta-“

“I gotta what, huh?” Bucky grins at the pleasure-addled panic he brings you too, not wanting to come too fast but also needing to let go before you actually explode. He knows exactly what he’s doing, balancing on one hand to thumb harshly at your clit as he says, “You want me to stop? I don’t think so, sweetheart, I think you wanna come on my cock just like this, wanna hear me tell you how good you are, how sweet you are for me all laid out like this-“

Everything whites out as you come, hard, all your muscles spasming like crazy with the orgasm that rips through you. Bucky’s voice is drowned out, but it doesn’t matter what he’s saying anymore, he’s made you feel like you’ll never catch your breath again. Bucky thunks his forehead against yours, collapsing on top of you as the fluttering clench of your cunt around his cock becomes too much. His thrusts turn sloppy, his breath hot and ragged across your face as you press lazy, barely-there kisses to his cheeks - all you can muster in your fucked-out haze.

Bucky comes with his eyes closed, eyelashes tangling with yours, and you cling to him with all four limbs as he shakes through his orgasm. The release was so needed for the both of you, the events of the last twenty-four hours frying your nerves to the point where it was either fight, cry, or fuck. It feels so good to have Bucky on top of you, inside you, all around you in every single sense and it warms your heart in a way you didn’t know was possible until now. Until Bucky.

Maybe that’s the afterglow talking, and you should stop. But you can’t help but press another kiss to Bucky’s cheek, and another, over his nose and across his still-closed eyelids until you reach his mouth and he can kiss you back just as soft. You hope he gets it. You hope he feels it too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You go to see your dad, eventually. The chaos of yesterday kept you attached to Bucky’s hip - you showered together in the morning, and he allowed you to pretend it was just the water and not tears soaking your face. But he made you cuddle with him on the couch and fed you an omelette like you were incapable of feeding yourself, and maybe you were, because the reality of what happened in that shitty Manhattan bar was starting to eat away at your executive functions. It took all of your strength to convince Bucky you would be ok and that you’d come back to him as soon as you were done, but it was time to pull on a thread you’ve been ignoring for far too long.

It turns out, that paranoid over-questioning part of your brain doesn’t turn off even during a traumatic event. Your dad lets you in without a word, tugging you into a side hug as you both walk to the kitchen to make tea.

The house you grew up in has taken on a different light since the Lerna. The kitchen chairs aren’t the same, reminding you too much of ziptied wrists and a gun in your face. Why can you superimpose the memory of Rumlow holding you hostage to one you have of being eleven and tied to a chair by your father? You shouldn’t be able to do that.

He nudges your hip, jerking you out of your staring contest with the dining chairs, and offers you a mug of tea. You both sit at the table, either end, the fruit bowl a mediator between you. He looks tired, old, like he always has somehow in your memories from childhood. He’s still your dad, the same man who always been there because he’s all you’ve ever had. He loves you, you know does. Ya lyublyu tebya, luna. But he has always been the first to say your paranoid streak runs a mile deep, and once you find a thread-

Well. Everyone knows how that ends.

“Do you want to talk about it?” your dad asks, and it’s like he knows you aren’t here to ask for boy advice or moan about a case or your skyrocketing rent.

There’s a lot you want to talk about. Why did I learn to throw knives instead of joining the soccer team, like normal kids? Why did I learn how to survive an interrogation instead of going to sleepovers, like normal kids? Why did you train me to question everyone and everything in this world, but I’ve always blindly believed you? Like a normal kid would, you suppose, the only normal you’ve ever really gotten. Always believing your dad is the superhero of six-year-old dreams, someone who would never keep you in the dark.

“No,” you say, taking a sip of tea. It burns your tongue to numbness, but you can’t bring yourself to care. We had the secret language for only us - why did I never think you might have secrets from me as well? You grimace into your tea and say, “Not right now, I’m sorry.”

“Tayny budut presledovat tebya vechno, malysh,” he says. Secrets will haunt you forever, little one.

You don’t dare look up from your tea as you say, “Ya dumayu, ty by znal vse ob etom.” I guess you’d know all about that.

He gives you leftover curry in a carry bag when you leave. Kisses you on the cheek and lets you go, but you can feel him watching you the entire time it takes you to walk down the street and out of sight. As soon as you round the corner you retch into the nearest bush, a well-manicured rose which you silently apologise to as it gets covered in your bile.

This guilt isn’t something Bucky can save you from - it feels like it’s eating you alive. You had never, ever thought you would get to the point where you’d be leaving a bug stuck to the underside of your dad’s kitchen table, but you suppose you never thought you’d be stalked and kidnapped either. You wipe the your mouth with the back of your hand as your stomach finishes emptying itself of tea and betrayal, and try to tell yourself you won’t find anything, you're just being paranoid. But you know you will.

Maybe you always have, and that’s why you’ve been too scared to pull on the thread you’ve known has been dangling in the back of your mind since you were a kid. Just one secret you wanted to leave, one dark corner you didn’t want to shine a light into. That’s never been in your nature. You spit the foul, acidic taste from your mouth onto a poor, innocent rose bud and think with just as much bitterness as the bile coating your throat, that’s not who my dad raised me to be.

Part 7

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #reader insert #reader insert fic #pov #pov fic #biker!bucky #biker!bucky fic #biker!bucky au #biker au #11 hours #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #brock rumlow

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mymoonagedaydream · 4 years

Text

Witness Protection (Part 2)

Summary: You were pretty sure you’d blown it with Bucky, but Nat thought otherwise

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x y/n

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Language, bit o’violence

Author's Note: I really appreciate all the support for part one :) shit’s about to hit the fan

---

You met up with Nat later that day, feeling like death warmed up but pretty keen to find out if you’d done anything else horrifically embarrassing.

She was already at the coffee shop when you arrived. Wearing dark sunglasses and slumped over a black coffee, she wasn’t difficult to spot. It made you feel a bit better knowing you weren't the only one suffering.

'You look like shit.’ You flopped into the chair opposite her. She gave you the finger.

'Same to you. I haven't drunk like that since I was in college, you're a bad influence.' She blew on her coffee and took a reluctant sip, adding through a laugh 'but at least I didn't pass out on a stranger.'

'A stranger, yes- but one who was in my own home. So it doesn't really count. Would be a lot worse if he’d been a stranger in a club or something.’ You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince her or yourself of that.

To your immense relief, she didn’t remember you doing anything else particularly humiliating. All morning you were having flashbacks of when you were sixteen and you threw up half a bottle of tequila in some guy’s mouth. Nat did have some good news for you, though.

‘Bucky was asking about you this morning.’

You perked up immediately. ‘Yeah? Go on.’

‘He just asked what you do and how we met. Seemed pretty interested.‘

‘What did you say?’

‘I told him you were a stripper and we met at the sexual health clinic.’ You rolled your eyes. ‘I told him the truth, you idiot. He said he thought you were charming.’

She must’ve seen how much that cheered you up, even though you were trying your best not to look like a giddy child.

‘Tell you what’ she added, ‘my sort-of-boss is having a sort-of-party at the compound where I work this Saturday. You and Sharon should come along.'

---

You were convinced that your Uber had taken you to the wrong address. It looked like an airport.

But, sure enough, there was Nat waiting for you outside. She led you and Sharon through the terminal and past arrivals, to a huge grassy area out back. There were elaborate food and drinks displays on lining the green and what looked like a makeshift dance floor towards the far end. Close to a hundred people were already milling around.

'Hey Stark! This is my friend y/n.' Nat tugged you towards a dark-haired man with tinted glasses and an eerily neat beard. You looked back to grab Sharon but she’d already scurried off somewhere else. Typical.

'Your... friend? Oh right. Hi.' He gave you a very quick, inauthentic smile. 'Can I have a word over here Natasha?' She glanced at you apologetically as he guided her away.

Even from a distance, it was clear they were arguing. You had no idea what about. You hoped you hadn't done anything wrong, that would be record timing even for you. Knowing Nat, she probably just forgot to mention she’d invited you.

After a minute or so you finally spotted Sharon, she was already at the drinks table with Steve. Christ, hopefully any getting down to business would happen at his place rather than yours. With those legs he could put her through the fucking wall.

A hand landed on the small of your back. Turning, you saw Bucky squinting in the direction of the argument. 'What did you do?'

'I have no idea. Maybe Nat didn't tell him she'd invited us?'

'Us?' You nodded to your side, prompting Bucky to look over at Steve and Sharon, chatting very closely over their champagne flutes. 'Well would you look at that. Nat's gonna be pretty pleased with herself.'

'Hey, I-uh, I think I owe you an apology.' You sheepishly changed the subject. 'I definitely had far too much to drink the other night.’

'Nah, that's alright. But I'll send my dry cleaning bill in the mail.'

'Your what?'

He obviously assumed Nat had told you already. Leaning in close, he whispered in your ear. 'You dribbled on my shirt a little. But that's alright.'

You felt yourself going bright red. What a fucking idiot. You genuinely thought you might have had a shot with him. Obviously not anymore. How did you two meet? Oh she got hammered and dribbled on me. Fucking hell.

You were so far into your embarrassment spiral that you didn't even notice Bucky’s face, still hovering very close to yours, a wide smile plastered on his lips.

'Alternatively, you can make it up to me now, if you want.' He whispered again, his deep voice sending a satisfying tingle down your neck.

Your breath hitched. You tried to respond but the only noise you could make was a kind of guttural gurgling, so you just nodded feebly. It was pretty difficult trying to look like you still had a modicum of your shit together.

He took your hand in his and led you to the dance floor. You could feel your palm sweating, thank Christ he was wearing that glove again.

His arm circled your waist and you finally began to relax, a little. You’d been far too drunk the other night to notice, but it turns out he could dance pretty well.

‘You don’t have to dance with me just cause you feel sorry for me y’know.’ You forced a laugh. ‘Accepting my apology was good enough.’

‘I’m dancing with you cause I want to. I just happen to feel sorry for you at the same time.’ He gave you a cheeky smirk and something deep within you erupted. ‘Besides, I get the feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other from now on.’

He prompted you to glance over to Steve and Sharon, who were rather zealously introducing their tonsils to each other.

‘I am so not ready to be a bridesmaid.’

Chuckling, he moved both his hands to rest on your back, pulling you in closer. This time, you were determined that none of your saliva would end up on his clothing.

Before you could really process what was happening, his lips pressed against yours. Your brain felt like it was melting and your stomach was doing something resembling the salsa. He was still holding you tight to his chest, so your legs going completely limp and giving out underneath you was much less of an issue than usual.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. ‘I haven’t done that in a long time.’

You smiled, not really believing him, but appreciating the sentiment. ‘Not since 1944?’

His face slowly dropped and his eyes darted to meet yours with a look of tragic sincerity.

Then something happened.

For a minute, you had to try hard to convince yourself you weren’t dreaming.

A deafening crash came from behind Bucky and flames billowed into the sky. He spun around to look, quickly afterwards gathering you up into his arms and sprinting in the opposite direction.

There was another crash. More flames.

The next thing you registered was being put down and faintly hearing instructions being shouted in your direction. Other people were cowering around you. Bucky darted away. You felt the cold floor against your hands and knees.

Three people fully clad in black boiler suits, armed to the teeth, ran towards you.

‘That’s the one.’ The business end of a rifle was pointing directly at your forehead, and you were completely frozen.

‘The one who was fraternising with the asset?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Bring her.’

You were grabbed around the waist from behind and hauled to your feet. You thought you were screaming, but all you could hear was a high pitch whining. Your vision was blurring around the edges. The last thing you saw was Nat charging towards you, looking like she was ready to kill someone.

---

Your eyes slowly opened. When your vision righted itself, you saw that you were lying on the floor of a tiny room with metal walls and no visible door. Nat was crouching in the corner.

She put her hand to her ear. ‘Stark. Target is on lock-down.’

Tears welled in your eyes.

‘Nat? What the fuck is going on?’

---

Part Three

---

#bucky fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

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alexaplaysgames · 4 years

Text

Nodus Tollens

Pairing: June x F!Traveller (Celeste)

Fandom: Andromeda Six (I know the fan base isn’t huge so I encourage those who haven’t played to read these and see if you’d like to try it out!)

Warnings: Angst, minor mentions of gore and death.

Words: ~ 1800

Description: When Traveller tries to save June instead.

Notes: I chose my traveller for this little fic but will totally take requests if you’d like me to use yours. Just pop into me DMs and make a request! Also, this is one of several fics for A6 that I have so let me know if you’d like to be tagged.

This is self indulgent nonsense and I am sorry. I will do better next time. Actually I probably won’t.

Tags: @amlovelies @writersgonefishing @oatssss @kimberrrrr @femmeshep @serana-spring

There’s a sort of weightlessness to death.

An instant where you rest suspended in the between. Passed from warm hands into a cold, steel grip, there’s a split second where everything stops. Life no longer holds meeting and death has yet to make known its cruel face, so you are left...

Waiting.

It takes a moment for Celeste to realize that this isn’t the weightlessness she’s feeling. The sensation of suspense is not one due to hovering between life and death. The strength which holds her is not of some otherworldly being.

She looks up and sees kindly grey eyes. June cradles her head with gentle, reserved strength. Tawny strands of his hair fall against his forehead as he looks down at her with an expression of fear and unbridled concern, one that is utterly unfamiliar on the usually calm gunman’s features.

His fingers press against her side and withdraw, sticky and crimson with blood.

“Celeste,” June whispers, though it’s faint with the ringing in her ears.

Her name on his lips sounds sad, agonized even. The feeling that knowledge invokes within her is foreign. Once, existing only as the youngest child in a line of royals, fated for a life in the shadows, she held the belief that no one would mourn her death. Now, the look of anguish on his face makes guilt flare in her gut; she doesn’t want to hurt him like this.

He pulls her close against his chest, draws her into his arms as easily as if she were, truly, weightless. She knows of the strength that lies hidden under the layers of his sweet, gentle exterior, buried under his warm smiles and soft, thoughtful gestures.

Her fingers’ weak grasp finds his wrist, delving into the crisscrossed scars written in his skin. In them, she finds the affirmation she seeks.

Even if it drains her of blood, life, and spirit, it was worth it. For in this, just once, he will remain untouched.

She wakes to metal tables and blinding white light.

“Hey, easy now,” comes Ryona’s soothing tone. Her pale blue skin and soft, pretty features follow as she stands from her desk before rushing to Celeste’s side.

Ryona immediately starts fluttering around, reading numbers on screens and pressing buttons as Celeste puts her hand over the bandage on her newly-sewn side with a wince.

“You’re in the med bay. Came in pretty banged up, if I do say so myself. June had to carry you back.”

The incessant ringing has cleared to the steady beeping of the surrounding machines. For the second time, it occurs to Celeste in her clarity, that man has pulled her back from the brink of death and carried her toward safety in his arms.

“I’ve never seen our cowboy quite so upset,” Ryona adds, her tone full of meaning. “He really cares about you. Remember that if he-“

Celeste shifts on the table. “If he what?”

“I had to give you eight stitches, and you lost a lot of blood. You should-”

“Ryona.”

Golden eyes, filled with conflict, meet green.

“June doesn’t handle strong emotion well. He’s afraid it makes him volatile, destructive. Dangerous.”

“Oh.” The plastic sheet crinkles as Celeste settles back against it. The non-answer makes her nervous. “Okay.”

“He’ll be fine,” Ryona comforts, squeezing her ankle softly as she sits down by her feet. “Luckily, so will you. I was worried.”

Celeste stumbles in her attempt to formulate a reply. “I- thank you.”

The words stir some strange sentiment within her, an immense wave of affection threatening to drown her in their wake. Never in her life did she imagine she would be lucky enough to be cared for so deeply by people so utterly kind.

Suddenly, a knock sounds at the door, startling both women where they sit.

“That’s probably June. He sat by your side for hours until he went to get a blanket. Said you looked cold,” then, louder, “come in!”

June almost has to duck under the door, given his immense height, and he enters carrying a stack of blankets high enough to clothe a small army.

“I didn’t know which ones-“ he begins, setting the stack of fabric on the countertop, then trails off as he registers the sight before him.

“You’re awake.”

Silence ensues. Ryona’s eye flit between the two of them before she stands, says, “I’ll be outside if you need me,” and excuses herself with a warm, supportive smile over her shoulder.

“June-“

“I am so, so sorry,” he breathes, air rushing forward from his lungs, coming to kneel by her side. His eyes search her face, looking for what, she doesn’t know.

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I should’ve protected you. I shouldn’t have let you get hurt.” He looks disgusted with himself. This, this self-loathing, is something she recognizes. “There are a lot of things I should have done,” he adds softly.

Celeste moves to sit up and hisses as the skin around her bandages stretches.

Realization dawns in June’s eyes before they shift to her side. “Can I?”

She nods, lifting the edge of her shirt to reveal the expanse of fabric that hides her wound. Looking briefly into her eyes for confirmation, June lets his fingers brush against her skin, tracing the edges of the bandage and sending a tingling feeling up Celeste’s spine. At every point where their skin meets, warmth trickles outwards from his fingertips, seeping through her skin and settling in her veins. She can feel his breath, the unmistakable warmth of it, against her bare skin.

“You’ll have a scar,” June murmurs.

“So? You already have so many.”

He frowns. “I don’t want you to be like me, Celeste. I don’t want to make you like me. How could you- that’s the last thing I want.”

“You told me to run and I chose not to. You didn’t make me do anything. I’m responsible for my own actions. Did you really think I would leave and risk you getting hurt?”

That seems to throw him for a loop. His jaw drops slightly, eyes wide. “You- you wanted to protect me?”

She traces a featherlight touch along his cheek with a shaking hand. June’s eyelashes flutter, briefly, at her touch. “Of course.”

“You’re delusional,” June says, though it lacks any bite. He simply sounds lost, a little confused. “I’ve survived much worse than a back-alley gunfight. I can handle a few more scars.”

“But you shouldn’t- you shouldn’t have to.”

She swallows, jaw working as she looks toward the ceiling, yet she can see how he shakes his head, features pulled between frustration and overwhelming torment. “You shouldn’t have to put yourself in danger for me. I’m not worth that.”

“But you are-“

“I am not.” And the finality of his words draws her gaze towards his once more. She sees something there that she’s only seen once before, the day she stood outside his cabin and he shut the door in her face .

Anger. Fire, bright flames quickly smothered with a brush of his large palm over his face.

He breathes deep, chest rising with the motion under his vest. His grey eyes look more like steel than rainclouds as he speaks. “If you can’t follow orders, I won’t be able to take you on supply runs any longer.”

“June, please. You don’t mean that.”

She doesn’t know what she’s asking for. Acceptance? His friendship? His love? Would she dare?

Could he even give her such a thing?

“I’ll see you in the morning, Celeste.” June stands again, sleeves shifting further up his forearms to show his scars. “Get some sleep.”

He doesn’t once look back once as the door closes behind him.

The metal table beneath her feels so much colder without him there. How cruel he is, to let her taste what it’s like to have him by her side, then rip it away. Left with nothing but the hum of machinery and her thoughts, she begins to wonder if she’s broken, or he is.

Or maybe they’re both broken, she thinks. Maybe they both have jagged edges, and no matter how hard she tries to fit them together, there will always be a little space in between.

It’s an uncomfortable thought, one that lulls her to sleep under fluorescent lights and the weight of her own fractured heart.

Outside, June slumps against the wall, running his hand through his hair with a sigh.

How his heart ached when he turned her affection aside, how he wanted nothing more than to relish in the feeling of her caring for him, for him, to bask in it and soak in it and let it fill all of his cracks and crevices and make him whole.

And how he knew, just as deeply and with equal certitude, that that was the last thing he could ever let himself do.

He is no stranger to pain. But the hurt he feels now is different, gnawing at a part of himself he didn’t know existed. Not since he closed it off, so long ago. Not since-

No. Not going there. No amount of time will strength long enough for him to open those doors again.

Just look at what you’ve done to her already. All you’ll ever do is hurt her.

June presses his fists into the wall by his sides, hands trembling with the effort not to leave dents in the metal. It’s so easy for him to break and ruin, so difficult to build. And that is why he cannot have her. He won’t let her become another beautiful thing shattered by the strength in his hands.

How difficult she makes it, when she looks at him as if he’s fragile, when her lips form words like care and protect and things he never thought a monster like him could ever hope to receive. He wants to lay himself down at her feet and thank the gods for giving him something so sweet.

But he is dangerous and he is deadly and he has no idea how to love someone the way she deserves.

“You could stand to let someone in, every once in a while.”

Ryona crosses her arms as she leans against the wall beside him, one eyebrow raised.

“I won’t kill you to let yourself feel, June.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about killing.”

June tries not to flinch as she lays a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not the monster you think you are,” she says.

A part of him wants to scream, to say that she doesn’t understand, that’s she’s wrong, but that part is smothered by the warmth that bubbles in his chest at her words.

He lets his head hit the wall and closes his eyes. “I don’t know if you’re right.”

“Am I ever wrong?” Ryona grins, eyes twinkling.

He has to admit, she does have a point.

“I hope you’re able to work this out,” she says, pushing herself off the wall. She walks back into the med bay and June keeps his eyes scrunched closed until he hears the door slam shut.

More than anything, he hopes for that too.

#Juniper Nyux #Andromeda Six #Andromeda Six Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Visual Novel #A6 #Andromeda 6 #Andromeda Six June #June x Traveler #Ryona Mi'Haden #A6 fanfiction #Andromeda Six Traveler #A6 June #A6 Ryona

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studiousmusings · 4 years

Text

What if Dream Won?

AU Fan Fic of the Dream SMP final showdown between Tommy & Tubbo vs Dream

Warnings: Angst / Major Character Death / All the heart break

Words: 2619

A/N - I just binge watched all of tommyinnit’s vods and am in love with the lore and story line of the Dream SMP (just starting to get into Ranboo’s Arc). I had this stuck in my head and just needed to get it out there. Hope you enjoy!

__________________________________________Tommy's heart was pounding in his chest. Lungs burning for air as he hid behind the pile of dirt, a half eaten golden apple in hand.

"Tommy."

Dream's voice echoed over the mountain top, ringing in Tommy’s ears and sending a shiver down his spine. Every moment he could ever remember the green clad man saying his name overlapped in his mind. Never had his tone been as ice cold as it was now.

“T-tommy…” Tubbo. enemy traitor YOU EXILED ME NO! His friend, his best friend. His first friend ever since he arrived on the SMP. This was just Dream getting into his head again. Tommy shook clear the haze and memories and froze as a cry came from the other side of the mountain's summit. Tubbo was sprawled across the grass, trapped under Dream's boot, sword tip resting against his friend's throat.

The disc burned in his pocket, the weight of it was like a thousand pounds. Everything he and Tubbo worked for. Every war, every skirmish, every death. Wilbur... L'Manburg. BURNT TO THE GROUND . The smell of sulfur and smoke filled his nostrils, the blasts of TNT and the Wither's cries ringing in his ears.

Dream sighed, "Come out Tommy" his sword moved, stabbing into Tubbo's shoulder as the teen pleads.

"Please, NO! DREAM! STOP. You're killing me! TOMMY!!"

"STOP!" Tommy stood, dropping the apple as he gripped Techo's axe his axe. The worn leather cutting into the skin of his palm "just stop."

"Tommy. Tommy. Tommy" He could hear the crazed smile behind the blank white mask. the soulless eyes and smile mocking him. "You're nothing! I haven't even gotten started yet! Look at you, your armor is falling apart and I haven't even brought out my potions. I had our poor Mr. President crying within three hits!”

“I have one of the discs Dream” Tommy can hear his own voice wavering.

Tubbo yelped as Dream withdrew the sword, bright red blood coating the glowing metal and slowly dripping onto the grass. “Give me the disc Tommy. Or I’ll kill Tubbo. I’ll even count you down”

“Ten”

“Don’t give it to him Tommy!” Tubbo tried to surge forward, hand gripping the wound as blood continued to spill past his fingers but Dream just kicked him down again.

“Nine”

“I… Tubbo….”

“Eight”

What does he do? What does he do? What does he DO!

“Seven… Six”

Thousands of thoughts rushed through Tommy’s mind. Heat building behind his eyes, as his free hand wrapped around the circular bit of metal. The memories behind it, the history… Then he looks into Tubbo’s watery gaze. The strength behind them, telling him it’s ok. BUT IT’LL NEVER BE OK!

“Five.”

Tubbo flinched as the sword cut into his cheek, leaving a small trickle of blood to run down his chin. “Four.”

Tommy’s heart stuttered, moving before he could even think the disc soared through the air and clattered at Dream’s feet. He could feel the man’s surprise as he stepped away from Tubbo, letting the teen scramble to Tommy’s side. Bending down he picked up the disc, a manic laugh bubbles past his lips. “I- I didn’t think it’d be that easy. No, I should have known. You’re such an idiot Tommy.” the thin metal shattered in his grasp.

Tubbo gasped “wha- no!” and Tommy felt like the world had disappeared beneath his feet.

“They were FAKE TOMMY!” Dream threw down the other disc, Mellohi and stomped on it, the thin metal shards cutting into the earth. “Did you really think I would bring the real discs with me!? Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think this is a game! It’s not!” he laughed, high and crazed. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” He cocked his chin, the green glow of his eyes just barely peeking out from behind the mask.

“Drop your armor and items Tommy.”

The familiar phrase made Tommy freeze. His heart hadn’t stopped pounding, the pain lancing through him. The rush of emotions almost sending him to his knees, this was it.

“You too Tubbo” He raised his sword, nearly slicing the teen’s other arm.

“OK! Ok…” Tubbo moved quickly, tearing at the leather straps with shaking hands and dropping his apples and potions. “Tommy...” he looked between them nervously.

“Now Tommy.”

He moved like a man on strings, a movement that was well oiled and familiar. How many times had Dream made him do this while in exile? He had lost count truly. He dropped everything, even the seeds he had no idea why he had grabbed in the panic of battle. Ghostbur’s crossbow and pickaxe… all the pearls and potions. Dream picked up the Axe of Peace before tossing the dynamite down, letting all the items go up in flames. Hours upon hours of work, mining… farming… all of it gone. Left in only his clothes, still slightly singed from Doomsday as the sun began to set, the freezing wind burning his skin as it whipped around them.

“You’re a bastard Dream.”

“I know. And now, we’re going to take a trip. I’ll even show you the real discs.”

Held at sword point, Tommy gripped Tubbo’s wrist as Dream marched them towards the edge of the summit, the waterfall they had used to climb the sheer cliffs was now their trip down, death hung above the two teen’s heads.

“Go” Dream shoved Tommy’s back, nearly making him tumble over.

“Ok! Ok!” he helped Tubbo into the water, with his shoulder useless he would need help to safely get down. At least the spring water would somewhat clean out the wound.

Dream stops them at the mountain’s base, a stretch of rock too flat and uniform to be anything but suspicious. “I’ve been one step ahead of you two the entire time. Tubbo thought I was his friend Tommy. You thought I was your friend.” He laughed and knocked Tommy up against the wall, pushing Tubbo aside. “What an idiot, right Tommy?” he whispered, sword waving dangerously in Tubbo’s direction.

“You’re evil Dream… do you know that? I gotta wonder how you sleep at night.” Tommy couldn’t help the words flowing from his mouth even as the back of his head stung from knocking against the stone. The white mask darkened for a moment, the taller man stilling, his frame rising to block out the moon and cast an angry shadow.

“I sleep just fine. L’Manburg’s gone, I have the discs, I have you two at my mercy.” The glee returned, and Tommy’s heart nearly stopped when the pickaxe came swinging at his head, the metal breezing past his cheek, as it smashed into the stone behind him. A warm trickle of blood drips down his cheek a matching pair to Tubbo's.

“Go in Tommy,” Dream bent over to whisper into his ear.

“What the fu-” the cavern had torches haphazardly scattered along the walls, the dim light just barely illuminating a section of the floor made of obsidian.

“Get on the platform.”

Tubbo’s fingers intertwined with Tommy’s, helping pull him to the black stone. His eyes were pleading as he whispers, “just do as he says Tommy, we might still get out of this.”

The sounds of pistons filled the room as Dream hits a button, and with an almighty lurch the platform began to lower. There’s a moment of tense silence in the dark, only the glow of Dream’s armor reflecting off of his manic mask to see from. “Listen Tommy,” from all the thick stone it sounds like Dream’s voice is coming from every direction. “Ever since you arrived here, you’ve been a headache! You’ve brought war… terrorism. And above all else, you’ve brought the reason for all the violence, you brought attachment. Your attachment to the discs, to friends, to pets, lands, countries, items.” he laughed short and loud as the platform finally lowered into a huge underground cavern.

The walls made of thick, black obsidian towered high over them as they slowly lowered to the floor of bedrock. On the other side of the room, illuminated by glow-stone lamps the discs sat on pedestals on either side of a Nether portal.

“What the fuc-”

“You brought attachment Tommy.” Dream continued, even as the platform stops at the bottom and an eerie gong rings throughout the room. “It took me a long time to realize just how important attachment could be. But when I did, it made me stronger. And I realized you- you’re important. Come see, come see you’re discs. They’re right there… you could take them.. Run through the portal… but then I’ll just kill Tubbo. See, they don’t matter anymore.” he looks at Tubbo, “because I know what your real attachment is.

I’ve cut my attachment, I became free. I lost my friends, blew up my house… my crossbow… everything that was important to me. I cut everything because that’s what gave people power over each other, attachments. I had to lose everything, to gain control.” The manic tint to his words made Tommy shiver, Dream was becoming more and more twisted with each word. Or maybe he was always like that and Tommy just never noticed.

“You’re a sick bastard!”

“If I can control the things people are attached to... then I can control the world again." He laughs gleefully, scowling "This isn’t Tommy SMP or Tubbo SMP. it’s DREAM’S SMP! I can control it all if I have everything anyone’s ever cared about. I’ve already started my collection.” a wide sweep of his arm drew Tommy’s attention to the other pedestals around the edges of the room, and signs labeling them. Dream put Techo’s Axe on one with a glass case. Another podium had a bucket with a little clown fish in it, the label said Beckerson.

“LOOK! LOOK TOMMYINNIT!” Dream spun on his toes, green glow all but erupting from behind the mask. “I have a spot for everything, and room for more! I will take it all and no one will be able to go against me again.”

“You’re a terrible man!” Tubbo spat, “wha- what have you done…”

Tommy could feel himself shaking, looking over the few items Dream had already collected. Ghostbur’s friend… Henry for god sake. He thought Henry was DEAD! “You are sick Dream! A fucking psycho!”

Tommy pulled Tubbo behind him as Dream marched into his space, towering over the teens all while still glowing that ghostly green. “Everything I’ve done is for a reason!” he snarled. “To take back control of the world!” he lent back, a smile growing in his tone again, “and it’s all thanks to you Tommy.”

“Just kill us already!” Tommy screamed, behind him Tubbo was shaking. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the panic or because he was feeling the same anger that burned in Tommy’s stomach.

“You’re the KEY Tommy!” Dream scoffed, “You bring the attachment, so no… I can’t kill you. I can’t let you free either. Your exile was perfect! People could visit you, not that I didn’t do my best to stop them. But you were out of the way… just how I wanted, and then you left. You disappeared and wrecked EVERYTHING.”

Dream spun, sword back in hand it’s cold metal caressing Tommy’s chin, making him look up into the mask’s painted eyes. “So I made a prison.” He tilted his head, letting the mask focus on Tubbo. “I’M GOING TO LOCK TOMMY AWAY FOREVER TUBBO. I need him, but I don’t need you. You’re just a pawn, a follower who has lost his usefulness”

Tommy shoved the man back, not that it moved him much. Pure fear ran through his system, at the anger that was directed at Tubbo, at the blatant threat. “Tubbo isn’t a follower! You’re a monster Dream, evil… just pure evil!”

“Evil…” Dream laughed, dark and gritty that echoed around the vault. “Evil is in the eye of the beholder. So if I’m the evil in your story, that means you’re the hero Tommy. And every hero needs and origin story.”

“NO!” the fear that soaked Tommy to the bone gripped at his throat, his voice breaking and wheezing. Even as Tubbo grasped at his hand, clammy skin with a heartbeat fluttering fast under his touch. “Absolutely fucking not! NO! What do you mean.” Tommy desperately looked around the hall, they were trapped, Dream stood between them and the portal. The platform had long risen back to the surface. They had no tools, no supplies, no way to break through the impossibly strong obsidian.

“Tommy. I want to give you your chance to say good-bye. I’m not the monster you think I am.” Dream said lightly, like he was giving a present on Christmas day, “It’s Tubbo’s time to go, so say your good-byes, because after this… you’ll never see him again.”

“Keep the discs!” Tommy panicked. “I don’t care about them, let Tubbo and I go.”

“I don’t give a shit about the discs Tommy. I care about power, and Tubbo is the power over you that needs to go. Say you’re good-byes.”

“FUCK YOU BITCH! NO! Wha-what the h-hell…” Tommy resisted the urge to pace, to move so he could think, try and come up with something that could get Tubbo out of here. But the small hand clutched in his kept him rooted in one spot.

Dream tilted his head, like Tommy was some sort of interesting painting “You’ll miss out on your chance to say good-bye to your best friend? I’m not kidding, I am going to kill him!” The anger was back, the flip flopping of emotions coming from the older man was like two sides of a coin, one moment blistering anger, the other a child filled with excitement.

“Tommy…”

“NO!”

“Tommy!” Blood soaked fingers grasped onto his shirt and spun them so Tubbo stood in between Tommy and the green man.

Tommy’s muttering continued in full force, “if we run, if we get to my old base, we could make it Tubbo, we could make it…” He gripped Tubbo's sleeves, anything to ground himself.

“It’s alright. This is it…” Tears streaked down the slightly chubby cheeks of his best friend.

“Don’t just accept this Tubbo! We- we- you can’t….”

“Tommy, it’s over” the smaller teen pulls Tommy into a hug, arms wrapping around him like a lifeline. “All good things must come to an end. We had a good run” he mutters into the fabric of his shirt, tears soaking through, “I didn’t think this would be the end for me, but we had some fun times.”

“...What am I without you?”

“Yourself. Your amazing, funny, and brave self. I believe you’ll get out of this on your own, it won’t be the end for you Tommy.” Tubbo pulled back, eyes roaming over Tommy like he was trying to memorize everything about him.

“Tubbo...even though, ever since I met you, I've always regarded you as my sidekick.” Tommy ignored the hot tears stinging the scratches across his cheek. “But really Tubbo I was your sidekick.”

Tubbo takes a step back smiling, arms dropping to his sides. “You’ll always be my best friend Tommyinnit”

The sword erupts from Tubbo’s chest with a wet sound of singing metal. Blood bubbling up past pale lips. Face still stupidly stuck in that small smile, eyes never leaving Tommy’s even as he watches the light fade from them.

“NO!” Tommy feels his world fall apart. Catching Tubbo as he falls, like a puppet with its string’s cut. Dream stands over him, blood dripping onto the stone as he wipes the blade clean. Clinical and oppressive.

“Time to go Tommy.”

Hands still stained, and blood soaked shirt and jeans sticking to his skin, barely dry unlike the cold body of his friend. Tommy feels the rage fester and build as he looks up at the maniac, the murderer. Even as the lava slowly falls over the cell’s doors, blocking his view and locking him in the obsidian room with only empty books for company. Tommy makes a promise, a declaration. Whatever it takes, Dream is going to pay.

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mamourland · 4 years

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18. celebrity!au 2.enemies to lovers 32.“shut up for a second, will you?” 😏😏😏 in my mind I see one of them being a celebrity and the other the bodyguard !

Celebrity AU / Enemies to lovers / " shut up for a second will you ?"

Rating: Mature

Thomas Magnum was furious as he dragged Juliet Higgins down the hotel corridor, squeezing her wrist more forcefully than was necessary.

Who did that bitch think she was?

He had seen some shit since he became a bodyguard for the rich and famous, but that woman was something else. She kept insulting him as he walked a steady pace and she tried to follow him while maintaining her balance on her insanely high heels.

When they reached her hotel room he grabbed the magnetic key from the inner pocket of his tux jacket and opened the door quickly, pushing the famous actress inside unceremoniously.

When she didn’t stop with the yelling, he shouted louder than her.

« Shut up for a second, will you? »

She was so astonished that someone dared talk to her like that that she was reduced to silence and Magnum savored the few moments of quiet before she started again.

« Need I remind you you’re my employee Mr Magnum? I will not tolerate being treated that way by my own bodyguard, understood? »

Magnum wanted to laugh out loud at the sight of her, with her closed fists on her hips, trying to sound authoritative when she barely weighted over a hundred pounds. Her long, black, shimmery evening gown also didn’t help take her seriously.

He could have carried her over his shoulder like a caveman easily but he was afraid she would kick him and do some serious damage with those deadly stilettos she was wearing.

« I guess I wouldn’t be your employee anymore if you were dead! What you did back there was reckless and beyond stupid! »

Just because he found her gorgeous as hell didn’t mean he could let her put herself in danger as if she had a death wish.

« Oh please! There was no danger, I was merely signing autographs to my fans who, by the way, love me. How could have I been in danger? »

Her derisive tone did nothing to placate him.

« Haven’t you heard of John Lennon or Jodie Foster? Fans can harm or kill their idols, you know? »

« I think you’re overreacting, Magnum, » she told him.

« And I think you’re blinded by your own ego so when someone is telling you they love you, you go straight to them without thinking about the consequences! »

« I do not! Why do you care anyway? Are you jealous or something? » She asked him in a snide voice.

He chuckled.

« Of you? Please, I don’t need the validation of complete strangers to feel good about myself. »

He regretted his words immediately when he saw her flinch slightly. Why was he so shaken about what could have happened earlier if he hadn’t grabbed her and moved her from that merely contained crowd? He had known the metal barriers that had been installed for security along the red carpet would have ceded under the pressure of her raved fans. She would have been trampled on if he hadn’t intervened when he did.

Maybe it was time to yield the position of her bodyguard to someone else because he could feel he was way more attached to Juliet Higgins than was appropriate. She drove him nuts 80% of the time but he was so dazzled by the 20% left that she had subrepticely snucked under his skin. Now, he was basically in love with her.

‘That’s real professional, Thomas!’, He chastised himself.

« I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, » he apologized before turning towards the window as he ran his palm down his face in frustration.

He didn’t want to leave her but he knew it was the right thing to do. Even with his back to her he knew she was still rooted in the same spot, probably too hurt by his words to retort, which was worrying him. He actually preferred when she yelled at him.

« I think I will ask a friend of mine to replace me by your side, » he told her softly while he looked at the city lights through the large window.

« What? Why? » She asked him in a distressed voice.

He turned around, not expecting this kind of response from her.

« What do you mean ‘why’? It’s obvious we don’t work well together; we don’t trust each other and we get on each other’s nerves. You need to trust your bodyguard completely because you put your life between his hands. »

« I don’t want anyone else but you, » she told him with her chin raised and he wished she would say those words under different circumstances which was why he needed to take the decision for the both of them.

« Well, even if it’s nice to hear, I can’t be your bodyguard anymore. »

She closed the distance between them in two wide strides and stopped right before him.

« I won’t let you leave without a proper reason so spare me the trust issue bullshit, ok? »

He had to fight the grin threatening to appear on his face at her attempt to show her bossy side and he had to admit she wasn’t as bad as he initially thought.

« Why don’t you give me a good reason to stay then? »

« I guess I have gotten used to our verbal sparring and, despite what you may think, I actually trust your judgement. »

« Even my decision to exfiltrate you from your red carpet tonight? » He asked her, unconvinced.

She shrugged.

« I guess I will be on page 6 tomorrow, being hauled by my bodyguard. Any publicity is good publicity, right? »

Thomas was amazed at the drastic change of behavior in her but not so much surprised; she was clever and could understand the logic behind his decision.

Though, it didn’t change the fact that he harbored feelings for her and he knew he had to come clean to her because she wouldn’t let him go if he didn’t.

« I still can’t stay with you, Juliet, » he told her as he grabbed her hand. « Because... »

She placed the fingers of her free hand on his lips to silence him.

« Don’t say it, » she warned him before replacing her fingers with her lips on his.

After he got over the shock of her kissing him he wrapped his arms around her slender waist and responded to her delicious attack on his senses. She didn’t waste any time before she pushed his jacket off of his shoulders and grabbed him by the suspenders to lead him towards the huge bed in the center of the room.

He lowered the zipper of her dress at her back and let the fabric pool at her feet. He broke away from her mouth to meet her eyes and make sure she was okay with where this was going and when they did, they both were suddenly inhabited by the urge to feel the other’s naked skin against their own.

They quickly divested each other of their clothes and fell down on the soft mattress, still embraced. He wanted to worship her lithe body as he attached his lips to the soft skin of her neck but she had other ideas.

« Magnum, please take me now, » she pleaded him and who was he to deny her?

He felt overwhelmed when he slowly slid inside her welcoming body and he knew they wouldn’t last long.

After their release, they both lay side by side, panting until he chuckled. She turned her head towards him.

« What’s so funny? »

« Well, I didn’t expected the night to end like that. »

She laughed with him.

« I guess it’s what happens when we stop denying the truth. »

« Yeah, but I will still need to find a replacement, » he informed her.

« What? Why? » She asked him as she sat up, momentarily distracting him with her gorgeous, naked body.

« I can’t be your bodyguard if I’m your boyfriend. »

« Oh, so you’re my boyfriend now? » She teased him but he could see her smirk.

« Good luck getting rid of me now. »

« As if I wanted to anyway, » she stated as she slid on top of him to kiss him again.

#thomas magnum #juliet higgins #magnum x higgins #miggy #magnum x juliet #miggy fic #magnum fic #fanfiction #fanfic #prompts #AU #magnum pi

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moonstonediaz · 3 years

Note

for the ask game: give me recs please! they can be books, movies, songs, poets, artists idc i’m good w anything 😊

ooooohhhhohohohoh anon, do you know what you’ve done to me? recs for anything? buckle in, my friend, this might get weird

BOOKS:

The 7-1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle: i read this one last month and it was amazing! such a good murder mystery. it kept me hooked through every single page. if you love a good mystery, try this one out.

The Song of Achilles: this is already a widely known book, but hand to god i hadn’t heard of it before this past year. it…ruined me. in all the best ways. i shove it in everyone’s face now. if you haven’t read it—DO IT.

The Georgina Kincaid series by Richelle Mead: one of my all-time favorite series. it’s about a succubus living in seattle who works at a book store. it’s got demons and imps and vampires and angels and nephilim and an adorably shy author. it’s so fucking good, i’ve read the series at least 5 times now. incredibly well-written.

anything by Richelle Mead, actually. i’m a huge fan of all of her work. i was introduced into her work with the Vampire Academy series and i’ve read everything she’s written since then. they just finished casting the VA tv series for Peacock, so that’s something to look out for!

MOVIES/TV:

i’m super into horror, so if that’s not your thing just skip on down. also worth noting that i rewatch a lot of stuff. like more than i think other people do.

The Conjuring movies: they’re all incredible. that’s all i can say.

The Haunting of Hill House/The Haunting of Bly Manor: they’re not the same story but they’re equally great. i’m getting ready to rewatch Hill House bc it’s been a while and it’s fuzzy in my memory. Bly Manor makes me sob. the queer story they tell hits me so hard and the ending leaves me a mess, but it’s so worth it.

Midnight Mass: a new addition! i almost didn’t watch this due to some comments i saw on twitter, but i changed my mind and. omfg. i wouldn’t have forgiven myself if i never watched it. (Mike Flanagan is?? a genius?? he also did the two Hauntings mentioned above. his work is incredible.)

NBC’s Hannibal: listen. i will never ever shut up about it. i went in watching it before i knew Hannigram-the-ship was even a thing. but 👀. pushing the ship aside, the show is amazing. the cinematography is beautiful, the sets are elaborate and elegant. i’m obsessed. as a fan of Anthony Hopkins’ portrayal, i didn’t know how i’d feel about Mads Mikkelsen as Hannibal but he adds something special to the character that’s so intriguing to me. (i wouldn’t explicitly list this as horror, but it IS gory. be forewarned.)

MUSIC:

eehhh i’m hesitant to recommend anything in this category for two reasons. 1. i do not branch out very often, if at all. 2. i don’t meet a lot of people who enjoy the post-hardcore type rock that i’m in love with. but! i’ll say what my current favorites are:

Eidola: their lead vocalist, Andrew Wells, is….okay. you ever feel really down and you can feel yourself going to a dark place, and then you go outside and the weather is perfect—like, 65 degrees and sunny and windy—and you just stop and feel the sunlight on your skin and it’s almost as if it’s warming you up from the inside? and suddenly that dark place isn’t so dark, and you feel something like hope? THAT is Andrew’s voice to me. (also he’s a beefcake and i might be in love with him) and their lyrics are so poetic and beautiful and they strike me right in my soul. so, if i’m recommending any of their songs to anyone, i would have to go with Perennial Philosophy or Elephant Bones. or Tetelestai. or Dendrochronology. and Sri Vishnu Yantra makes me scream sometimes. they’re literally my favorite band, i’d recommend it all. and ok so, they do mostly clean vocals but they also have screams in most of their stuff. and that’s why i never recommend music, bc most people balk at it lol. but it’s not heavy metal. it is not. heavy. metal. people sometimes make that mistake.

Circa Survive: another huge favorite of mine. the same type of genre, no screamo though! i’ve been listening to them for, god, over a decade now. similarly to Eidola, their lyrics are very beautiful, and paired with Anthony Green’s vocals and their instrumentals i just?? i can’t describe it. i have a lot of thoughts and feelings about their albums, mainly bc their stuff goes back to when i was in high school. so listening to their discography is like being in a time machine for me. it’s hard to recommend just a handful, but some songs i’d recommend are I’ll Find a Way, Through The Desert Alone, Flesh and Bone, and their entire new EP, A Dream About Love. specifically Drift, but the EP is only 6 songs and they’re all great.

#i’d love to hear your thoughts if you try anything out!#OR if for some reason you’ve read/watched/listened to these already i have tons more to recommend #but this was getting long and my lil typing fingers hurt from the excitement #i’m cool i swear #t answers #anon

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tumbling-odyssey · 4 years

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Games I played in 2020

Just felt like getting my thoughts out on all the games I played this year. I’ve been wanting to do something like this for years but I always let it pass me by. Well not this year! Fuck you laziness!

I played the first half in 2019 but finished it in 2020 so I guess I'll count it. DQ11 was my intro to Dragon Quest and what a good starting point. I'm not exaggerating when I say this is one of the best traditional JRPGs on the market. Characters, story, combat, it all clicks in just the right way to make a flawless game... until the end credits roll that is.

I have no idea what happened with the post game but by god does it dive off a cliff. It undermines everything you worked to do in the main plot. The characters act brain dead and it shamelessly reuses events from the main game. Please pick up and play DQ11 but for the love of god just stop when the credits roll.

Doom is a game I knew I'd like. The heavy metal ascetic and soundtrack were right up my alley, but I just never found the time. With Eternal on the way though and having found it on the cheap at a pawn shop I figured there was no time like the present. Needless to say but I was right. I loved everything about this game. The thrill of combat, the screech of the guitars, and the silent take no shit attitude of Doomguy. Make no mistake though, I SUCK at this game. I played on easy but still got my ass handed to me on the regular. But I don't care, I was having way to much fun.

I flipped my shit when this game got leaked at the tail end of 2019. Zero 3 is my all time favourite game. To celebrate this getting announced I went and 100% Zero 3 as I hadn't done it on my current cart, and Zero 3 was still the first thing I played when I got this collection! I love that game to death and I’m glad to have it on modern consoles again. As I was under a bit of time crunch with other games releasing soon I only played 2 other games in the collection Zero 4 and ZX Advent. Until the DS collection those and 3 were the only Zero/ZX games I had so I have a lot of nostalgia for them.

Zero 4 hold ups better then I remember. Not as good as 3 but a damn solid game with tweaks I honestly wish hit the series before its end. I remember having issues with the stage design and ya it’s not perfect, but it’s far from as bad as I thought. For ZXA this was the first time I beat the game on normal difficulty. For some reason the ZX games have always given me more trouble than the Zero games, so finally beating one on normal was very exciting. Maybe I can now finally go and beat ZX for the first time...

The Mystery Dungeon series rising from the depth to punch all those unexpecting in the face was a very welcome surprise. I had a lot of hype going into this one as I have very fond memories of my time with Red Rescue Team and even more with Explorers of Darkness. And the game lived up to it! The remastered music is great and crazy nostalgic, the 3D models are well used and don't feel as stiff as they do in the core series, and the QOL changes are near perfect... So why did I drop this game like a rock once I finished the main quest?

Anyone familiar with Mystery Dungeon will know that the post game is the real meat of it. The story is short and all the really cool shit comes in after it's done. But I just couldn't bring myself to put more time in after I finished said story mode. I'm definitely chocking that up to me just not being in the mood then an issue with the game. Here's hoping we get an Explorers DX sometime soon. That will fucking hook me for all it's got.

Second verse same as the first. I loved this game and sucked at it horribly. Out of all the games I've played this year Doom Eternal is the one I want to go back to the most. I was not the hugest fan of some of the changes made and retained a stance that I liked 2016 better. First person platforming has never been a fun experience in my opinion and Eternal did little to change that. And I know this a lukewarm take at best but fuck Marauders!. They are so unfun to fight and ruin the pace. The Marauder in the last mook wave took me so long I was worried I wouldn’t be able to finish the game. But the more I've seen of Eternal after my playthrough makes me think I was being far to harsh. I haven't played the DLC yet either. Mostly cuss I haven't heard great things about it. Gonna wait for the rest of it to come out to see if it's worth getting. Might just replay to whole game at that point to see if it clicks with me better.

This was my second favourite game of the year, and was going to take the top slot until a certain other game came out. Addressing the elephant in room right away, I hated the ending. But I was expecting something like that, I think we all were. I won't let the ending ruin the rest of the game though. Not gonna let 1 segment colour everything that came before it. We have to see how the later parts play out to truly see if this ending was trash or not anyway.

It took Square over a decade but they finally got an action RPG battle system that works and feels good to play. This may be my favourite battle system in an RPG period honestly. All four characters are a blast and it only gets better the more time you spend with it. Figuring out the nuances of each character’s skills and how to combine them not only with the skills of the others but how to enhance them with the right Materia set. This makes fights thrilling and satisfying when you finally best whatever was giving you trouble. Tis was the best way to bring 7′s mechanics into the modern landscape while also fixing the BIGGEST issue the OG had. The fact every character feels the same aside from Limit Breaks.

All this on top of graphics that just look fucking stunning, a few glitched out doors aside. Fuck I still feel blown away looking at the characters models (mostly Tifa) and see how god damn pretty everyone is. Also Tifa’s Chinese dress is gift from the Gods and I still haven’t picked my jaw up from the floor after I first saw it.

In my circle of the internet there was a lot of hype for this game. So much so that I ended up buying it to see what all the hubbub was about. I had never played a Streets of Rage game before and my only experience with beat'em ups was playing a LOT of Scott Pilgrim and last year's River City Girls. Turns out Streets of Rage plays quite a bit different and it kicked my ass! So sadly I had to switch to easy to make it through but I still had a fun time with it.

I started playing mostly as Blaze but once Adam hit the scene oooooh fucking boy. I didn’t play anyone else. There's a deceptive amount of content in this game. You can unlock almost every character from the previous games and all of them rocking their original sprites and moves. If I had more of a connection with this series I'm sure I would have gone nuts on unlocking everything. I stopped after my one playthrough and I was happy with that. Always glad to support a long overdue franchise revival.

To properly talk about P5R I think I need to air a lot of my feelings on the original game and the importance it has to me. You see, prior to 2017 I barely played games, only sticking to specific franchises. AKA Pokemon and Mega Man/Mega Man like games. Until 2016 though I still bought a lot of games. Eating up Steam sales and deals I found at pawn shops. This lead to a Steam library and shelf filled with games I've never touched outside of maybe an hour or 2. So in 2016 when I took interest in the newly released Kirby Planet Robobot I made a deal with myself. I could get the game but I HAD to beat it. And I did just that, gaining not just a new fav Kirby game but a new rule for game purchases. If I knew I wouldn't beat a game I was not aloud to buy it. Now what does ANY of this have to do with P5 you may ask? Well... almost everything.

I was immediately interested in P5 when it hit the west in 2017. I loved the 20 or so hours I but into P3 years ago and really liked the P4 anime I had watched around the same time. So of course with all the hype around it I wanted to dive into the series full force with P5. But I knew myself. Putting over 100 hours into a game was beyond me and I had a weird relationship with home console games as I was predominately a handheld gamer. Add in the fact I didn't even have a PS4 and I was convinced P5 would be something I always wanted to play, but never would. So when I went to the mall with a few friends and they showed me that P5 had a PS3 version, I had a dilemma on my hands. I knew I wanted to play it and I now had a way to do so. But doing that would require me to change 2 HUGE hang ups I had with games. Would I being willing to waste 60 bucks with so much working against me? Apparently I was. I immediately started going to town on this game. Making sure I spent no less then 2 hours a day playing NO MATTER WHAT. Which may not seem like a lot but it was to me... at the time.. I also had just moved to my current house, so coming home from my still relatively new job and going straight into P5 was the first real routine I formed during this heavily transitional part of my life.

I of course ended up loving P5 and put 200 hours into it. As such my outlook on gaming was forever changed. Console games were no longer out of reach and I knew I could handle playing monster length game. I started playing way more games then I ever did before and trying out generas I never thought I would play. P5 is the main reason for this and why I'm able to make a post like this. To actually touch on Royal though? It's unarguably the better version of the game and Atlus learned all the right lessons from P4G. The new characters are great and the added section at the end is possibly the best shit Atlus has ever written. I only wish Yoshizawa joined the party sooner so I could play as her more.

The release of this really came out of nowhere huh? Wayforward announced it was being made mid way through 2019, then there was its weird half release on the Apple store... and then suddenly it was out! Very little fanfare for this one. Is that indicative of the games quality? Luckily no. Seven Sirens is a solid addition to the series and follows up Half Genies Hero nicely. The game goes back to Shantae's Metroidvania roots and makes a TON of improvements.

Transformations are now instant instead of having to dance for them (don't worry dancing is still in the game) making the game feel more like Pirates Curse in its fast flow. They also added the Monster Cards which take heavy inspiration from Aria of Sorrow's Soul system. A feature I'm happy to see in any Metroidvania since Aria is one of my all time favourite games. Sadly though the game does not take the best advantage of these improvements.

Over all the game feels kinda empty. The dungeons aren't super exciting to explore nor are they challenging in any way. And the plot is very repetitive, with each dungeon repeating the same beats. Really this game feels more like set up for a better game down the line. The mechanics are all here and Wayforward has a solid art style with the sprites from Half Genie Hero. Hopefully they capitalizes on this for Shantae 6 and we get the best game in the series.

While it may not have been the most thrilling game, Seven Sirens really put me into a Shantae mood. So much so that I went back to play the 2 games in the series I had never touched. This being the first game and Risky's Revenge. Shantae 1 really is a hidden gem in my opinion. Don't get me wrong, it's the definition of jank, but there's a lot of heart to this game. The sprites are great, the soundtrack is good, and the characters are funny... but it's still on the OG Gameboy and that's a massive hindrance for any game. I'm hard pressed to recommend this with how poorly its aged but I think it's better then it looks.

Risky's Revenge on the other hand was a game that shocked me by how little it had to offer. I know this game went through a hellish development and what we got was far from what Wayforward planned to make, but it's hard to imagine a world where this was the technical BEST Shantae game. It's not a bad game by any stretch... just a boring one.

For the record my ranking of the games goes Pirates Curse>Half Genie Hero>Seven Sirens>Original>Risky’s Revenge

Sword and Shield are mediocre games at best. I know, real steaming hot take there. I managed to make my Sword playthrough a lot more fun by not spoiling myself on the new Pokemon designs for the first time since Gen 3. Either way, I enjoyed myself enough that I didn't mind playing more of it with these DLC campaigns. Plus I love the idea of Game Freak switching over to this method as apposed to making a third version, so I wanted to support it.

Klara is a fucking top tier Poke Girl both in design and personality and is probably the highlight of Isle of Armour. GF actually went out of their way to give her multiple expressions to sell her toxic bitch personality and I love every minute of it. She sadly drifts into the background for the second half of the DLC’s story which hurts an already rough section even more. Not more then having to grind Kubfuu all the way to fucking level 70 though! That put a serious hamper on my motivation to finish the story but I pushed through anyway. Having to solo the tower with Kubfuu was at least a fun challenge though, as was the final fight with Mustard. Fuck the Diglett hunt though. Ain’t no one got time for that.

Crown Tundra may be my fav of the 2 though even if there isn't a character as good as Klara in it. The hunt for the legendaries was just pure adventure and I had a fucking blast doing it. The joy I felt when I figured out Registeel’s puzzle put a smile on my face unlike any Pokemon game since I was a kid. The whole Regi stuff was honestly a nice Nostalgia trip to my times with Emerald. The story around Calyrex was enjoyable, even if I still hate its design. Not revealing the horses before release was a good call to as it gave an honest surprise. Having to chase down the Galar forme Birds in the overworld is a great way to evolve the roaming legendaries idea and I hope GF sticks to this. Plus the Galar forme birds are some of the best legendary designs since Gen 5 and I love Chocodos way to fucking much.

Here we are folks, my GotY. I love Panzer Paladin so fucking much. A combination of mechanics from Mega Man, Castlevania, and Blaster Master? Sign me the fuck up! This game is tailored made for me and I knew I had to play it once it started making the rounds on social media. I'll admit though, I was a bit worried when the the first full trailer dropped and showed the weapon mechanics. Breakable weapons that you have to sacrifice for checkpoints and power ups? I'm not sure about that.... Luckily I was being a complete moron and those mechanics are near perfect.

I love the set up of each boss being a mythological creature from different cultures. They didn’t just pull the easy ones either. A lot of these things I learned of for the first time here. I love how Grit controls. Using the upward stab as a double jump and being able to pogo off enemies Shovel Knight style just felt great and satisfying. Flame was limited but it made her sections feel tense. She does more damage then you think she could at first glance. Also the only way to heal Grit being to use pods that only Flame could access was a cool idea.

I am begging you Tribute Games, you have to make more Panzer Paladin games. Slap some new upgrades on Grit and expand what Flame can do and you have an even better sequel on your hands. Also maybe not have so many 'gotcha' moments with enemy placement. That's really my only complaint about the game. Great music, great sprites, giant robots, unique premise, and a reference to Canadian legends. The ultimate self indulgent game for me.

It felt super out of left field for Curse of the Moon to be getting a sequel. The games fucking amazing but it was really just a tie in for the main Bloodstained product. Not something I expect to get a continuation. Either way I was pumped. If this was even half as good as the original then I was in for a great time. Which held true... cuss this legitimately is only half as good as Curse of the Moon. I still like the game, quite a lot actually. I mean how could I not with a fucking Corgi piloting a Death Train Mech.

Something was just missing here that never made this click like the first game. Maybe it was the stage design, maybe the bosses, maybe the fact that it's a bit to long. I'm not sure. All I know is I couldn't bring myself to play all the modes like I did in the original. . Stopping part way in to the one where you can get the first games characters. I want to go back some day... I just don’t know when someday is.

This was an announcement I never saw coming. A Gundam Verses game coming to the west? That hasn't happened in the entire time I've been a Gundam fan. I had played a bit of Full Boost on my old roommates PS3 thanks to him having a Japanese account and I played Force on the Vita a few years ago. But to have the latest version fully translated with open servers? Holy hell that's a dream come true.

Having the open betas every weekend leading up to launch was some much needed fun during this shit hole year. I had a lot of fun just fucking around with different suits and seeing what I could do with 'em. Absolutely trashing two Bael players as the Kapool is a memory I'll keep with me for a long time. Fucking danced on their graves. This gave me some new appreciation for suits like the Baund Doc and Hambrabi, the later becoming a lowkey fav as it was my main.

I've fallen off with the game in the last few months but I definitely want to go back. I hope to start learning the game and take parts in tourneys when cons aren’t death sentences anymore.

It felt like everything in my life was SCREAMING at me to start the Yakuza series. From 2 of my friends playing 0 recently, a youtuber I following live tweeting as he played through the WHOLE series back-to-back, and Yakuza 2 having a run at AGDQ 2020. Plus the constant pleas to play this series you get from following Little Kuriboh on Twitter. I finally broke and picked up 0 in the middle of August. Boooooooooy howdy did I not know what I was getting in to. And no I don't mean the content. I knew Yakuza was a series of wildly conflicting tones between the main story and side quests. What I mean is the length. I legit thought this was gonna be a 20-30 hour game. When i reached hour 30 of my playthrough and realized I wasn't even close to a conclusion, I think I knew I had bitten off more then I was planning. That misstep aside I ended up loving this game and want to play the rest of the series.... I just need to rest up first before I dive into Kiwami 1.

Let's actually talk about the game for a moment here. Kiryu and Majima quickly clicked as likeable characters to me and I cared about their stories. Combat is fun and the multiple styles are all great.... though both the default styles take a while to get there. The mad rush I felt at the end was fantastic and the last bosses are a joy to fight. Only real complaint is the pacing of the side stories. I loved being able to just stumble into various different events while on route to the next plot objective. But this became less common as the game went on and side stories started getting more tucked away. Also hot take here, the host club mingame is more tedious then fun and I like Kiryu’s business stuff as I could do that in the background. I’m excited to dive into Kiwami and probably Kiwami 2 this year... Though I’m not sure when just yet.

Just gonna say it flat out, I think this is better the the 2018 game. The smaller scale helps in this style of game and Miles just naturally has a better move set then Peter. I'm not sure if they actually tightened up the combat system or if they just threw less bullshit enemies at you but fighting feels so much better in this one. Traversal is better too, simply because they changed the button for tricks. In the original you have to hold down 2 face buttons to enter trick mode??? In hindsight that was such a bad call.

Having both the heal and venom powers run off the same meter was a good idea. Making the choice between keeping yourself alive guaranteed or potentially ending a fight quicker/disposing of a problem enemy is super fun. The player having to make small choices like this during combat is what helps it not be brainless. I love all the different venom skills you get. While they all achieve the same thing in stunning opponents, how you achieve that goal is up to you. Do you want to just slug the bastard, throw 'em up in the air, tackle the shit out of them? The choice is yours.

Only real big complaint is certain upgrades being NG+ locked. I know you want to encourage replays, but this is a shitty way to do it I feel. Also can we retire Rhino for the next game. Man has had 2 shitty boss fights now and I need a break. Between this and Spider-Verse, I'm honestly starting to like Miles as Spider-Man more then Peter.

I got this game more on a whim then anything. I was definitely interested when it was first announced for the west. Vanillaware's beautiful art style in a story about giant robots beating the shit out of Kaijus? Sign me the fuck uuuuuu-oh wait it's an RTS? I had never played an RTS's before, mainly due to the sheer concept stressing me out. So I let it fall to the wayside. The game started coming up again though towards the end of the year with GotY on everyone's minds. This revived my interest, especially as what I HAD planned to be playing around that time was... well. Cyberpunk. Don't think I need to say much more. Also I had worried for nothing as the Real Time Strategy was not that Real Time.

This game really lays on the analysis paralysis once you're out of the tutorial. Do you want to fight, do you want to do story, who's story do you want to do, what branch should you follow, how much should you play with this one character? It's very overwhelming at first. I decided to not go ham on just one character and swap around all the time. The twists in this game are equal parts exciting and infuriating. Learning something new always came with the caveat of more questions, or something you knew 'for sure' being disproven. Like when I learned 1 characters was actually 4 separate ones! Anyone that's played knows exactly what I'm talking about.

Natsuno ended up being my fav and not just because of.... obvious reasons. BJ was cute if unfortunately named and her relationship with Mirua was my favourite in the game. Not that there was much competition except for maybe Ogata and Tomi. I ended up really liking the combat but I can see why RTS fans say it's the weakest part. It's far from complex and I had a winning strat by the third or so real fight. Aka spam turrets and have the Gen 1′s gank all the bosses.

One quick thing I want to share was how I beat the boss at the end of Area 2. The one where Inaba is singing. I had Hijiyama use the limit break skill to bum rush the boss right off the hop. I took out half its health in one hit but Hijiyama’s Sentinel was on death’s door. Only thing that saved him was sending in Amaguchi to blow up a bunch of missiles. Hijiyama took it out on his next attack but lost his Sentinel at the same time. It was a real clutch victory and crazy fucking anime.

The best way to really describe Carrion is that it's a fantastic proof of concept. Can you make a game where you play as The Thing? Why yes, yes you can. Carrion just needed a bit more tweaking to really bring this concept home and be the A+ game I know it can be. As it is now the game is a bit empty. The level design is super samey and the lack of a map is fucking brutal at points. I know it would make no sense for a blob monster to have a map but somethings you just have to gameify for convenience. The level design must have done something right as even though I was completely lost I still moved from area to area properly. Hell by the time I actually looked up a map I had 1 more item to get and I learned I was one door away from beating the game.

I love the idea of losing mass as you take damage and gaining more by eating people, but having abilities tied to size was a terrible idea. It just leads to tedium as I have to go and shed myself to the right size, do the puzzle, then of course I'm going to go back and rebuild myself to see if I can do the next segment at full power. Just make it so you can swap between abilities using the d-pad or something. I hope this game gets a sequel just so this sick ass concept can be fully realized.

#games #goty #Final Fantasy #pokemon #spiderman #yakuza #gundam #bloodstained #panzer paladin #shantae #persona #streets of rage #doom #mega man #dragon quest #13 sentinels: aegis rim #carrion

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