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mooshywrites · 4 months

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Would it be alright to request what Halsin would think of a sorceress Tav? There's custom dialogue lines from him if Tav is a Druid, so I've always wondered what he'd say and think related to her class specifically.

The Druid’s Sorceress

Fem!Reader x Halsin

Masterlist

Art commissions

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A/N - Here’s a few bite sized sorceress blurbs :) <3

Word count - 2K

Warnings - Fluff, lots of game spoilers, slight rewriting of plot points

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“I’m lucky to have met you, Sorceress.”

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~Tiefling Party~

Halsin couldn’t keep his eyes off of you for most of the evening. At first, he tried to convince himself that he was only drawn to you because of how you saved him. But Halsin knew, behind that thought, was a desperation to get to know you. To spend even a second more with your magnetic aura.

When you finally danced over to talk to Halsin, he could’ve sworn his heart jumped into his throat.

“Enjoying the party, Druid?” You asked, your words slightly tipsy from the various flavors of wine being passed around the party.

Halsin chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I am indeed. Are you also enjoying the party…” Halsin paused, realizing he had no idea what the Hero of the Grove’s speciality lied in.

“Sorceress.” You offered, throwing Halsin a charming smile. “I’m a Sorceress.”

Halsin smiled back, happy he had just another piece of your personality known to him. “Like The Blade. Wyll, was it?”

You scoffed, swishing the wine in your chalice, “He’s a warlock. And between you and me, I’m much better.”

Halsin laughed warmly, nodding his head. “I know not who is better, but I know you yourself are quite impressive.”

“I’m not the only one.” You replied, appreciatively.

Halsin didn’t miss the way the sorceress’s cheeks flushed slightly. He bit back his words, afraid he would come on too strong. He hadn’t known you for long, and well… he couldn’t bring himself to allow the kind of distraction you had become. Not yet at least.

“So tell me about the Shadowlands.” You questioned, taking a step forward to hear the Druid over the music better.

Halsin only offered a thin smile, trying his best not to convey how those words twisted in his chest. “You needn’t worry about those things until morning. Go. Enjoy your party, hero.”

Halsin was thankful that you took his advice, leaving with a genuine smile. He would’ve talked to you all evening if circumstances were different. Would’ve invited you to sit with him under the stars, somewhere more quiet.

He couldn’t though. Not while the knowledge of how nature rotted on the journey’s path. Something he should’ve tried to fix much much earlier.

No, getting to know the Sorceress would have to wait.

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~Dancing Lights~

The camp was quieter than usual that night. The fight with Oliver was difficult, the fights along the way making the end battle even more so. Once you all finally made it back to camp, most went to their tent to lick their wounds.

You, however, trudged your way towards Halsin’s tent.

Halsin was whittling away quietly, hoping the movements would lessen his stress. Thaniel lay further in the tent, still completely unconscious. It was almost as if Thaniel was in a deep peaceful sleep, resting upon Halsin’s bedroll. He wanted to go with you to find Thaniel’s other half, but he couldn’t tear himself from the boy.

Halsin startled when you cleared your throat, too entrenched in his thoughts to hear your approach.

He dropped his whittling looking up to you hopefully. “Did you find it? Will Thaniel be whole?”

You sighed and plopped down next to him, picking up his unfinished wooden duck. You rubbed the shavings off idly, your voice weary when you spoke, “Yes, I found him.” Your eyebrows furrowed together. “Oliver said he’d come back to Thaniel. I’m never playing hide and seek again.”

“Oliver?” Halsin started.

Before he could continue, there was a stir in the corner of Halsin’s tent. Halsin’s hand shot over to grip yours as he stared at the bundle, his eyes wide.

Your own eyes widened as you saw a small boy sit up off of the furs, yawning and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Thaniel's other half, whom you had only heard stories of before, now sat before you both. His small horns sat delicately on his forehead, and his eyes sparkled with mischief as he blinked away the remnants of sleep.

Halsin's grip on your hand tightened, a mix of awe and disbelief etched across his face. "Is this... Is this truly him?" You whispered, your voice barely audible.

Halsin nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes. This is Thaniel wholly put together, In the flesh."

The young horned boy blinked up at both of you and tilted his head curiously. "Who are you?" he asked towards you, his voice melodic and excited as he pointed.

You giggled softly, giving the boy a shy smile. “I’m a friend of Halsin’s. I helped him save you.”

“She’s a sorceress. Quite a good one.” Halsin added proudly.

Your cheeks heated slightly, not sure how to take the compliment.

Thaniel narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “A sorceress, hmm? Cast something then!”

You couldn’t help but laugh again at the childish pout the boy gave you. Who could say no to that face? You took a breath and whispered the incantation, circling your finger in the air to cast ‘Dancing lights’.

Beautiful blue orbs blipped into existence, shining gentle light over everything below it.

Thaniel's eyes widened in wonder as he watched the dancing lights float around the tent. His excitement was infectious, and soon both you and Halsin found yourselves smiling at the sight.

But as the lights swirled and twirled, something peculiar happened. They began to take on different shapes—a miniature dragon, a cascading waterfall, a blooming flower. The lights had a life of their own, responding to Thaniel's imagination and bringing his fantasies to life.

Thaniel clapped his hands in delight, his laughter filling the tent. "This is incredible! Can we make them do more?"

You nodded slightly, in awe of how the boy could manipulate someone else’s spell so easily.

“He acts as if he’s never seen magic before. Even though he can use it in such an incredible way.” You murmured, turning to Halsin.

Halsin’s chest filled with warmth when your eyes met his, “Maybe he hasn’t seen magic from one so beautiful.”

Your cheeks blushed brilliant red, your eyes unable to break away from the man.

Thaniel‘s voice cut through, making the two of you look towards him and realize the dancing light’s had completely disappeared.

“Miss Halsin’s-pretty-sorceress?” He asked, tinged with sarcasm, “Can you bring the lights back?

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

~Owlbear Cub~

Scratch and Owlbear cub played loudly, running through the center of the camp. You watched on, the display a nice distraction from the long day.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the camp, you couldn't help but feel a swell of warmth in your chest. The playful antics of Scratch and the Owlbear cub had brought a much-needed respite to the weariness that had settled upon your companions.

With a contented smile, you leaned back against the rough trunk of an ancient oak tree, observing the camaraderie forming between Scratch, a stray pup you had taken under your wing, and the Owlbear cub, a gentle baby with fluffy feathers and curious eyes. Their chase carried them further into the camp, weaving through tents and scattering supplies in their wake.

Laughter echoed through the air as your weary companions watched on, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Even Astarion with his unyielding glare, couldn't suppress a chuckle at the sight of the unlikely pair's boundless energy.

As dusk began to deepen, Halsin bumbled over to sit next to you. He carried his whittling tools, starting his next project as soon as he was on the ground. The two of you had grown much closer in the past days, now comfortable enough with each other to sit together in silence. It was nice, being able to unwind after the stressful days. You didn’t feel the need to make endless conversation, content to just appreciate each others presence.

Scratch and the cub quieted in the distance for a split second before the little Owlbear squeaked in pain. Your head shot up, concern rising in you as you looked towards them.

The Owlbear rounded the corner, limping to you with a whimper. Scratch followed close behind, barking as if he was trying to get everyone’s attention.

Halsin stood up, “Give me just a moment to see to Scratch and I’ll see to the cub.”

You watched as the cub slinked over, crawling up into your lap as it let out pitiful chitters.

You gathered the creature into your arms as much as you could, cooing over the poor thing. You couldn’t see what had hurt it, only that it was favoring its back paw.

You gently examined the Owlbear cub's injured paw, careful not to cause any further pain. It seemed like a sprain, and you sighed with relief that it wasn't anything more serious. The little creature nestled closer to you, seeking comfort and reassurance.

Halsin returned with a concerned expression, crouching down beside you. "How is the cub?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.

"It's just a sprain, nothing too serious," you replied, giving the cub a gentle stroke. "I think some rest and healing magic should do the trick."

Halsin nodded, reaching out his hand to cast a spell. A small green glow started to radiate outwards before it fizzled.

“Oak Father Preserve me,” Halsin muttered. “It seems I’ve been rendered empty of mana.”

You shook your head, smiling at him. “I’m not. I can do it.”

Halsin leaned in as you cast your healing spell, a warm glow shining against the cub’s feathers

As you channeled your magic into the sprained paw, a soothing warmth enveloped the Owlbear cub. Its beady eyes stared up at you with an almost grateful expression, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of joy at being able to help your oversized baby.

The Owlbear crawled out of your arms, much more sure footed than before. It tentatively tested its weight on the healed paw, Scratch standing close by as if he felt protective of his oddly shaped little sibling. A delighted squeak emanated from the cub’s throat as it realized the pain was completely gone.

Halsin watched in awe, his eyes gleaming with admiration. "You truly have a gift," he murmured, his voice filled with reverence.

You gave him a modest smile before turning your attention back to the cub, gently nuzzling its soft feathers. It nuzzled back against your cheek affectionately, expressing its gratitude in its own adorable way. It’s funny, how quickly this cub changed from wanting to eat you to wanting to be coddled constantly.

As you continued to sit there, Halsin leaned closer, his shoulder brushing against your own.

“You’re able to do so many different kinds of magic. You’re so powerful.” He murmured.

His hand reached over to stroke the owl bear softly before it rested on your own.

“I’m lucky to have met you, Sorceress.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at Halsin's words, his touch sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. With a soft smile, you turned to him, your eyes meeting his. "And I am lucky to have met you too, Halsin," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

The setting sun cast an ethereal glow upon the two of you, enveloping you in a moment of quiet intimacy. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the gentle rustle of leaves and the beating of your hearts. It felt as if time had come to a standstill, allowing this connection between you and Halsin to flourish.

As you sat there, hand in hand, the camp around you bustled with activity once again. Companions prepared meals, shared stories, and tended to their duties. But in that small pocket of serenity beneath the ancient oak tree, it was just the two of you.

A Druid and his Sorceress.

#halsin #bg3 halsin #baldurs gate 3 halsin #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x sorceress #halsin blurb #halsin fluff #halsin fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fluff #baldurs gate 3 fluff #halsin fanfic

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thetarttfuldickhead · 3 months

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If When Jamie is named England’s captain a few years from now and he’s asked about inspirational figures and captain role models, he will not stop singing Isaac’s praises. Just, the way Isaac runs a tight ship and won’t tolerate any nonsense but always has their backs and makes sure there’s a lot of fun, too, silly stuff that keeps the team close and happy and mutually supportive; keeps them feeling like family, almost. It’s Ted’s heritage, the seeds Ted planted, but Isaac’s nurtured and sustained them, tended to the garden and kept it in bloom, and added some vibrant saplings of his own.

Jamie probably names a couple of other people too, whoever was in charge when he played for Man City, someone from his academy days or England’s under-21s, people like that.

He doesn’t mention Roy. And no one asks about it, and no one thinks anything of it—

—except for Roy, who watches the interview with Keeley curled up against his side on their couch and who notices the omission with a wild jumble of hurt and wounded pride and shame and jealousy (all mixed up with the shocking, burning pride he feels for Jamie, England’s captain, fucking hell).

Because Roy knows he wasn’t a great captain for Richmond, yeah, and was a horrible captain for Jamie (though to be fair, Jamie was a horrible person to captain, and Isaac isn’t likely to have been able to handle him at full-on prick either, only Roy’s not fantastic at being fair to himself, so), but he’s still Roy fucking Kent, the best on any team he’s ever been on and Jamie’s fucking childhood idol and his fucking everything now, so to have the little prick not even mention him…

He sulks. He tries not to, because he knows it’s silly and it’s Jamie’s big day, isn’t it, and Roy’s not going to ruin it by having A Feeling, but the feeling(s) persist and he walks through the afternoon with his scowl several shades darker than normally.

“What’s the matter, babe?” Keeley asks, and Roy’s long since given up trying to bullshit her so he spills. Keeley nods and listens and gives him a hug and a kiss and tells him that yeah, you’re gonna need to let that go or actually talk to Jamie about it, because she has long since taken a stand on not sorting their shit out for them.

And she has a thing with Rebecca that afternoon (only it’s the first Roy’s ever heard of it, so he can’t help but wonder if she had a thing with Rebecca prior to Roy’s confession), so when Jamie gets home, bouncing through the door like a puppy on speed, it’s just Roy there to greet him and tell him how amazing he is and yes, of course Roy watched the announcement, your hair looked fucking fine, yes, Keeley saw it too, no, don’t worry, she’s just out for coffee, she’ll be back for dinner and let you know how very impressed she is, and it’d be easy to just let it lie, put the lingering regret away and bask in Jamie’s joy, but they’d said they’d try not do that anymore, not cover stuff up when there’s the chance they might fester, so when Jamie furrows his brow and cocks his head to the side and asks if he’s okay, Roy takes a deep breath:

“It fucking hurt my feeling when you didn’t mention me, when they asked about captains that have inspired you,” he says, and then adds before Jamie can reply, “I know why you didn’t and that’s… that’s fucking fair, innit, but. It also made me wish that I’d been. Better. A better captain. For you.”

“Yeah,” Jamie says after a long, silent moment. He’s wearing that slightly blank look he adopts whenever someone’s caught him by surprise and he’s trying to figure out how to react. “Um. Sometimes I wish I’d been less of a prick, too, you know.”

Roy nods. He knows. And it’s not absolution, and it neither erases or rewrites any of their past mistakes, but it eases the ache in Roy’s chest all the same.

“We’re better now,” he offers, to Jamie, to himself.

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees with a small sigh. He grabs hold of Roy’s hand, tugging him along as he sits down on the couch, and then he curls up against Roy’s side, same as Keeley did just hours ago. “You’re a great fucking coach, though” he tells Roy seriously. “Me favourite, swear down.”

Roy snorts a laugh as he puts an arm around Jamie. “Better fucking be, considering how many blowjobs I’ve given you this week alone.”

“Mm, fucking mint, those,” Jamie agrees thoughtfully, then jabs a finger in Roy’s side. “Oi, this is the part where you tell me I’m your favourite player.”

And oh. That’s perfect, innit. “You’re not my favourite player,” Roy says, carefully not looking at Jamie.

The noise Jamie makes are equal parts disbelieving and outraged. “Um, excuse me, mate?”

“You’re not,” Roy insists, feeling a smile tug at his lips as he innocently adds, “It’s probably Isaac.”

And Jamie huffs a laugh against his neck. And Jamie says you’re an arsehole. And Jamie says you’re me favourite arsehole, though.

You’re me favourite everything, man.

And Roy holds him tight and breathes him in and, for the moment, believes him.

#huh #that got away from me #have a sudden sunday ficlet i guess?#jamie tartt #roy kent #keeley jones #isaac mcadoo #royjamiekeeley #ficlet #my stuff

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baby-xemnas · 1 month

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heavy breathing and sweating thinking of bepo chained up with tears in his eyes getting interrogated .whimpering and trying not to cry but hes a big baby and he hates pain and the whole time he just thinks of how he has to make law proud he has to get through it for captain....... post reunion law seeing all bepos injuries from it and giving him the most tender reverent massage and sexing in the world to reassure him hes Here and no one will hurt him anymore. im ill

ill draw chained up bepo at some point for SURE

but for now - imagining bepo surprising even himself that he is doing a good job enduring pain and that reacting with steel determination came so naturally - surprised but only because its the first time they ended up in a situation like that! stupid alliance with too many unknown variables - if it was up to their captain taking the lead this would never happen....but for his honor theyll endure.

i love how bepo is only cute around law and in any other situation hes very much a proper pirate....he had some choice words to say to his captors i have no doubt

in my head you know that law is so cool and bepo is so undemanding - law will be so calm about taking care of bepo, not visibly upset (he doesnt want to worry bepo, especially then when bepo is safe with him) just Peak Rational tending calmly to bepos wounds. he is weighting in his options of how to praise him...law is very grateful that him just being Strong (and cool) is what brings bepo happiness and comfort so he doesnt even have to go out of his way to do anything for him...they just work when they are together

its nuts that hawkins probably saw the MOST of laws reaction (penshachi too) - when they all were in the immediate danger (but especially bepo) after the fact (and even when he comes out of his cell) law is collected.

they are so precious about each other they are both thinking "im ashamed i ended up in the situation and made you worry/im ashamed i couldnt prevent it and you got hurt, you are my responsibility" so instead of saying these things out loud - they both know how the other is feeling - they do their best to move on asap.

and so he will be when treating bepo and caressing him, say he is checking if anything is broken (he has Scan for that) and smiles so soft and loving when bepo giggles after a ticklish spot gets stroked...

Bepo melting in his hands as usual (as usual!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️) its the most wonderful thing in the world and makes them both forget that anything bad ever happened

edit: im dumb and chronologically law couldnt be the one to treat him but im too sleepy and lazy to rewrite it so just ignore that inconsistency thanks

#anonymous #lawbepo #unfocused rambling im falling asleep

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dduane · 11 months

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After knowingly being a fan of your Star Trek work since the 90s, and having pushed Young Wizards on as many folks as I can for the last (how long have I been on here?) dozen years or so, and having bought the full download pack just before UK sales went on hiatus due to taxes, I have finally, finally started reading SYWTBAW. I'm instantly in love. The character introductions are perfect. The system explanations are natural, fitting with what the characters know themselves. I'm so happy! But that's an aside, a happy bonus...

I have been a fan of the X-Com/UFO game series since I first discovered it, which was when they brought the game to the Playstation in '95? Wow, that game was wild. I would go visit my friend and play with him, working on tactics for missions for hours on end, then come home and boot up my own system and run more missions on my own. I had multiple memory cards so I could save while engaging the enemy and also keep a save safely back at base if things went pearshaped. When I finally entered the PC-owners market in 97, it was one of the first games I installed there and I still have a copy on every computer I've owned since, and play regularly. I have the official strategy guide, and (the point of this message) I have the tie-in novel that you wrote! Finding that was a lucky thing, I've never seen or heard of another copy. I love what you did with the story, how it ties in well to the mechanics and spirit of the game without remaining constrained to the specifics of the game engine's limitations due to programming requirements.

When it came to writing about games, and writing for games such as Wing Commander, did you (do you still) play (m)any of them to learn more about the systems and lore?

Firstly: thanks for the nice words about my work. :) Much appreciated.

In answer to the question you wound up with: I'm not gaming actively at the moment... there's too much other stuff going on locally that requires my attention. But when I've been asked to participate in a game-based project, I absolutely spend as much time playing it as possible before I get down to work. I'll never be able to spend as much time on it as any given game's major enthusiasts would. But I do my homework, and make sure I have the data I need to handle the story issues and to drive a decent plot.

When I was working on Privateer 2: The Darkening, this wasn't so much of a problem, because I came in as cold as anyone else: nobody outside EA had played the game before. :) That said, I hadn't been hired for my expertise as a gamer, but as a screenwriter. I did spend a lot of time with the game designers and engineers, watching how gameplay was supposed to go and working out how I could best reinforce that rhythm in the way the scenes I was writing played out. It was a really enjoyable collaboration, as the engineers were as fascinated with what I was doing as I was with what they were up to. If there was a downside to the experience, it was having to be more or less a prisoner in Slough for six weeks while the writing and rewriting happened. But this kind of thing is an occupational hazard, best taken as gracefully as possible. (Though that wasn't hard in retrospect, especially considering the cast who wound up speaking the lines I'd written. Clive Owen, Brian Blessed, Mary Tamm, David Warner, John Hurt, Mathilda May, David McCallum, Jürgen Prochnow,... my God, what a lineup.)

X-Com: UFO Defense, though, I'd known for a long time and had played quite a bit: so when asked to pitch, I more or less came in hot with a bunch of issues that I felt needed more attention than they'd had in the actual game. I was delighted to get more or less carte blanche to handle them, and to create a bunch of edgily professional characters to run around destroying the bad guys. It was also, frankly, a ton of fun to use the narrative to blow up or drop alien spacecraft on things that (in real life) were annoying me in that timeframe. For example, in the culmination of one battle I dropped a big alien ship through the beautiful Renaissance Revival roof of the main rail station in Zurich because I was cranky about some slippery floor tile they'd installed downstairs in a refurbishment of the ShopVille shopping center. (I mean, seriously, people track huge amounts of snow and slush in down there when they come off the escalators from street level: why would you not put nonslip tile on that floor? It's deeply irresponsible. So they had it coming.) :)

...Anyway, it was really enjoyable having a chance to play around with what I imagined Earth's geopolitics to be doing under gameplay conditions, while also enacting a more than usually complex game scenario in prose. I don't know if or when I'll be doing that kind of work next, but writing the X-Com: UFO Defense novel definitely left a good taste in my mouth.

Thanks for asking!

(ETA: and here are those tiles. ...The cubical affair in front is an art installation: an illuminated "fountain". It was originally made of wires or strands of plastic cable, down which drops of glycerine, or something like it, slowly slid. But they seem to have swapped that out for water. And, oh look, there's video!)

#X-Com: UFO Defense #Privateer 2: The Darkening

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olinblogin · 3 months

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Good morning! I woke to lovely piece of yours with a Yan!Mayor & Yan!LBD with a fem reader. It was a wonderful piece that didn't stretch too long but left me feeling very happy due to the lack of Mayor/LBDxReader content there is here & anywhere from what I can see. If it's not too much trouble, may I please request a reader who can actually fight back against the Yan!duo?

Maybe she gained immortality because the women of her family had witnessed the Mayor's & LBD's powers generations ago, thus building the subsequent generations after the first witness (maybe someone who also caught the two's attention but managed to escape thanks to SWK, his "you should have stayed buried" line has cemented into my head) saw what they were capable of & feared their return. Generational training & horror stories ensue. The day of the ritual arrives & Mayor comes to collect Y/N but is shocked to see her resilience against Lady's call & chains. Maybe she [Y/N] uses the chains against him & he ends up bound instead? Same with LBD (not Bai He possessed tho, pls). I really think they'd be shocked & intrigued about reader's strength & ingrained tactical knowledge added to resistance to both of them... Might be very interesting~.😈

Bonus points if Y/N says something like "I see why you use chains, Chief; you look so darling all wrapped up~!" or "That is a lovely song you sing, but I am not one for such melodies, Baigujing." [<-LBD's real name] Imagine the reactions!

Sorry for the long read, I'm just so curious to see your spin on this if you wish to write it. Thank you for reading!

P.S. Did you notice that Baigujing & Bai He have the same three-letter-start, 'Bai'???

I can absolutely do that! I’m ngl this is the longest req I’ve had before! (Not trying to be mean :])

I may or may not have taken a bit of inspiration from Naruto with this one, specifically with a “sharingan” kind of ability :3

—this is relatively short bc I didn’t know what much to do auaughhhh—

PS, the amount of times I’ve had to rewrite this bc I wanted it to be PERFECT…

(WARNINGS; SACRIFICIAL RITUAL, KIDNAPPING, IDK WHAT ELSE TO PUT BUT YEAH YOU GET IT)

Being part of a family that had gained immortality and power was not always the easiest.

All your ancestors were always present, if they hadn’t been killed.

Your family had gained partial immortality; meaning they would not die of age. But if they were, perchance, given a life threatening wound, they wouldn’t survive.

But that just made your family more careful of how they used their immortality. Every day in your extravagant home you would witness the generations before you, still walking, talking.

It would be eerie to most. But to you, it was normal.

Another good thing that came from your family with immortality, is that among the generations power grew, you being the recent generations, it was strongest for you. It wasn’t very well combat-wise; but it allowed you the ability to deflect an attack and mirror it just as it was performed.

Your family never explained how they harnessed this. But listening in as a child to your ancestors at the alter briefly mentioned a name; Baigujing.

Your family soon brought you with all cheers to the alter, they had dolled you up with traditional robes of white, holding incense sticks and sage.

It dawned on you.

Your family made a deal for immortality. A sacrificial deal. You didn’t know what to feel. You couldn’t feel anything. You were kept in the dark for so long and for what, to be sent like a lamb to the slaughter.

You had no choice but to let it happen.

How else would your family progress.

A cool most wafted around you, a feeling of floating. It was like you were weightless. When you opened your eyes, you were standing, met with two people, a man. He wore a shockingly wide grin.

“My lady will be pleased with this sacrifice. How pleasing you are.” He hummed in an unstable voice.

Chains shot from under your feet, making you reel back briefly, before honing your ability to deflect and conquer the chains, sending them the man’s way; watching as they coiled around him like snakes and held him still in front of you.

The chains were strong, stronger than any you’ve seen; they emitted a soft, ghostly glow. Joining your hands under your sleeves, you kept a blank stare. “I see why you use chains, Chief;” you muttered, watching him stiffen. “You look quite lovely being held by them.” He could hear the coo in your voice, it made him wonder how this was a possibility.

But he didn’t have the time for that, unfortunately,

As the Lady Bone Demon seemed to materialize just behind him. “And what seems to be the problem,” there was a slight sneer in her voice before she laid her eyes on you. “Ah, our sacrifice. What a beautiful one, a shame.” She’d spoke calmly, releasing the Mayor from his own chains you deflected onto him.

“Come now dear, there is no use in resisting. You were chosen to be killed in return for their immortality.” The Lady Bone Demon hummed, walking circles around you, as if she were gliding.

She tried to latch onto you with a chain of her own, letting out a shocked gasp when the chain came back her way and clamped around her wrist. “What a lovely song you sing. I’m not one for such Melodie’s, Baigujing.” There was an eerie silence.

“I see you have done your research on the two of us; but still hadn’t known your family would sacrifice you to my will.” She spoke calmly, releasing the chain from herself once more.

“My dear, how do you deflect my chains so simply,” Baigujing said with a hiss, walking towards you; that’s when you realized how tall she truly was.

“It’s something I was taught..” you would simply respond back to her. She did not seem to buy it, however. But accepted that nonetheless.

“We are taking her back with us. We will hold the family’s end of the ritual; but we are keeping her.” There was a semi-shocked “What?!” From the Mayor, before he cleared his throat and corrected himself when the Lady Bone Demon shot a pointed glare his way, it shut him up very quickly.

“Come now, my dear. Or shall we have to take you by force.” YIU could only respond with a glare. This made the Lady Bone Demon turn her nose up with a huff, before she grabbed your face and tucked you close to her body, so you would not be able to get away. “Come now, let’s start anew.”

You reeled back your elbow hit her in the rib, making her groan in disdain. The Mayor immediately leapt into action. No, literally. He leapt on top of you and held you down. Sliding his hands up your neck and into your hair, he roughly yanked it back, which earned a strained groan from you.

“That was a horrible mistake, dear. For that we will have to discipline you. Since you wish to do this the hard way, we will treat you as you’ve chosen.” Her words were eerie,

And for as long as you would fight back, the more they would break you down.

#x reader #x female reader #lego monkie kid #yandere lady bone demon #lady bone demon #yandere mayor #lmk mayor #lady bone demon x reader #mayor x Reader #yan lady bone demon x Reader x YAN mayor #ask box #writing requests #lmk

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fablesrose · 3 months

Text

Ch 11 - The Ice Man Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: With Sophie gone to find herself, the crew is out a grifter. This leads to Hardison getting a little cocky when clearing their client's name from a diamond theft.

Words: 7077

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The room felt a bit empty with Sophie gone; I could tell Parker felt the same as she shifted across the couch, trying to fill the space during the briefing. Hardison stood at the front of the room telling us about Jim Kerrity who was in charge of Kerrity Diamonds. In his four years of being in charge, he’s run the business into the ground by living beyond his means with addictions and party expenditures.

Eventually Hardison was getting annoyed with Parker’s shifting, “What? Why? What are you doing?” He asked her.

“What?” She replied.

“It’s distracting,” Eliot exclaimed.

“The couch is feeling a little empty,” she explained, her voice a little distressed.

“Eliot, sit next to Parker,” Nate said.

“No, I’m sitting here!”

I turned to Parker from my curled up position on the edge, “I can try to spread out a bit, would that help?”

Her face scrunched in a frown, trying to think.

“Guys, guys,” Nate interjected, “We all miss Sophie, I… We just have to adapt.”

“I got this,” Hardison said, walking towards Parker, “Move, go. Bye, go.” He motioned for her to scootch to the center of the couch and sat next to her. “You happy?” He asked, only continuing in the briefing once she nodded.

“Kerrity’s finances are a mess. Maxed out, maxed out, overdrawn,” Hardison explained. “According to the insurance claim, he stands to gain nine million from the armored car robbery.”

“A guy like this gets in over his head and the insurance policy starts to look attractive,” Nate summed up.

“Hires a couple of thugs, knocks off his own truck,” Eliot said.

“It’s a sweet payout, too,” Hardison admitted. “He gets the insurance claim, plus he still has the diamonds.”

“Mmhmm, and honest people like Joey take the heat,” Eliot finished.

“The thing about this that people don’t understand is insurance fraud, it’s a lot of red tape,” Nate explained, “and with a big claim like this it’ll take a year before Kerrity sees any money. Bill collectors are not gonna wait around.”

“He’s gotta fence the diamonds,” Eliot said.

“He can’t,” Parker stated.

“What?” I asked, everything moving a bit fast.

“His diamonds are GIA certified VVS clarity, all about two carats,” Parker rattles off, stealing the remote from Hardison.

“That’s my clicker,” Hardison pointed out, annoyed.

“Who stole the Polar Star?” Parker asked, raising her hand, “Who stole the Gem of Gibraltar? Damiani Raid? Me. I know diamonds, and our bad guy can’t fence those diamonds because stones that size have an ID number laser-inscribed on them.”

The screen zoomed in on a diamond to show this tiny ID number etched into the side, proving her point.

“Like a stolen car. You’ve gotta clean the VIN before you sell ‘em,” Eliot concluded.

“How do you get that ID off?” I asked.

“With a special laser,” Parker answered, “But only three guys can do it. Antwerp, Dubai, Tel Aviv.”

“And as of right now, Boston. Right?” Nate said, standing in front of us. “Kerrity has to move his diamonds, so we convince him that we’re the only people who can make them clean enough to move.”

“Get them to bring the diamonds to us,” Hardison said.

“And when he shows up, uh…” Nate paused, “Oh, Hardison, can you put the crime scene photos…?”

Hardison took the clicker remote back from Parker and put the photos up. The photo showed our client, Joey, sitting in the armored truck with a paramedic tending to his wounded shoulder. There was a man standing to the side talking to him, a notebook in hand.

“State police guy, Lieutenant Bonanno,” Eliot introduced the man.

“Yeah. So we drop Kerrity on his lap with the stolen diamonds,” Nate explained, “Lieutenant Bonanno drops the hammer. Our guy gets cleared, gets his job back.”

“Pardon me, but I don’t mean to stop the fun train,” Eliot interjected. “We’re out a grifter here.”

“I know who we can call,” Parker volunteered.

“Now, we’re not gonna call Sophie,” Nate disagreed. “No, she has asked for space, and we’re gonna honor that. No. Hardison, Y/n, you are gonna be our grifters.”

Hardison leaned forward with a smile, “I’m listening.”

“What? No.” Eliot shook his head in disbelief.

“Is it too late for me to pretend like I don’t know about,” I waved my hands around the room, “this whole operation?”

“Yes,” Nate answered me and Eliot at the same time, “Parker, you’ll be the roper.”

“What?” She asked puzzledly.

“Cute dress, heels, you’ll be fine.”

“Sure, I’ll be fine,” Parker whispered to herself.

I looked at her and could feel the anxiety rolling off of her. I nudged her shoulder to catch her attention. Once she looked at me, I nodded reassuringly at her, “We’ll be okay, we’ll figure it out. You’re not alone, we’ll help each other.”

She nodded a bit more firmly, but I could tell she was still anxious.

“Eliot, you’ll be the muscle,” Nate continued.

A little while later, I found Parker hiding under the counter, talking to someone on the phone. I stood in the kitchen, quietly listening. It didn’t take long to figure out that she was talking to Sophie as Parker explained the situation to her.

“I will not be fine,” she exclaimed, “I stabbed that guy with a fork!”

Well, I didn’t know that little detail.

“Parker, Parker, relax” Sophie soothed, her voice softly coming through the phone, just loud enough for me to hear. “It’s fine. Listen. Go to Nate’s storage cupboard and you're gonna find a sexy little mini-dress and my emergency Jimmy Choos.”

“Jimmy who? You have a body in Nate’s closet?”

“Shoes, Parker. Didn’t I teach you any...? Alright listen, this is the important bit. Do you still have the Rosalind Diamond you stole in Perth?”

“Yes,” she answered.

I huffed out a breath, I really shouldn’t be surprised.

“Wear it. The diamond will speak for you. You won’t have to say a word,” Sophie said. “This is the key to the grift. You just trust the character. Say nothing. Trust the diamond.”

“I can do that,” Parker relented. “Don’t tell Nate I called.”

“I won’t,” she reassured.

Parker caught my eye as she crawled out from under the counter. I motioned that my lips were sealed which helped her relax a little bit. Now to see if Sophie’s advice proved successful.

Parker was able to keep her cool and lead Kerrity to the back of the bar where Hardison, Eliot, and I were waiting, playing pool.

“No,” Hardison slammed his cue on the table once he saw them turning the corner. “Come here, what have I said? What have I said about new people, huh?”

I raised my eyebrow at Eliot at Hardison’s attitude and accent. He just rolled his eyes in response before he slammed Kerrity into the pool table.

“Hey, it's okay,” Parker said, “This guy works in diamonds. He wants to talk business or something.”

“Alright,” Hardison relented. “Lay the arms down brother. He’s cool.”

Eliot let him up with a shove.

“You’ll have to excuse my bodyguard. He’s touchy. It’s ‘cuz he’s a mute. Alright?”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at Eliot’s pissed off expression.

“Yeah, well, my bodyguards don’t talk much either,” Kerrity responded, as three intimidating looking men entered the area.

“Well, looks like we found our armored car robbers,” Nate said through comms.

I hummed quietly, noting the conclusion.

Some dominance had to be established, some control. Hardison and Eliot saw it too, and after a look was shared, Eliot got one of the so-called ‘bodyguards’ into an arm lock behind his back, using him as a shield when another guard had drawn a gun.

“Going to shoot through your own man?” I asked the one with the gun. He had a look in his eye that said he was seriously considering it.

His eyes flicked to me, a look of recognition noting that I was in play. “To be honest with you, I never liked him,” he said in a noticeable Russian accent.

“Legit,” Hardison said. “Goon squad and all, isn’t it? Stand down.”

There was a tense beat before the Russian lowered his weapon. I stepped around the pool table and placed a hand on Eliot’s shoulder right as he released the man he was holding. My hand slid off as I stepped past him, perching myself on the table, placing myself more front and center.

“Jim Kerrity,” he introduced himself.

“You’re Jim Kerrity? Kerrity Diamonds?” Hardison asked. “Brother, you got it all last week.”

“The heist. Yes, that was me.”

“So, did you use these fellas here, or hire out?” I asked, making a show of examining my nails. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Eliot had closed the gap, ready to step in front of me if necessary.

“We’re in the business, Jimmy boy. I can smell an inside job,” Hardison explained.

“So what do you do in the business, Mr…?”

“I’m a thief.They call me… The Ice Man,” Hardison said with a smug smile.

I rolled my eyes just as Nate repeated the name questioningly.

“No, Hardison, you have to have a light touch. Undersell,” Nate said.

“What kind of thief calls themselves a thief?” Kerrity asked.

“An arrogant one,” I responded. I offered my hand to Kerrity, which he took just the fingers, and turned it with a slight bow of his head.

“Doesn’t matter, I have the reputation to prove it,” Hardison rebutted, annoyedly. “This is my assistant-”

“Annaka,” I cut in, “and I prefer ‘his more subtle associate.’”

Kerrity smiled, looking me up and down, “I don’t suppose you have a boyfriend, do you?”

Eliot took a half step forward, giving Kerrity the hint to back up. I simply gave him a tight smile, not answering his question. I did dress up a little bit, a blouse and nice pants. I wanted to look nice, but professional. The fact that he still felt the need to comment and shoot his shot made my skin crawl a bit.

“I’m sure you’ve seen my work in Perth. The Polar Star? Nicked it.The Gem of Gibraltar? Nicked it,” Hardison bragged, which pulled the attention back to himself.

I looked to Parker who started to pace behind him as he continued to use her thefts for his reputation.

“Then I shouldn’t be seen talking to you,” Kerrity concluded.

“Right, right, right. Cause two criminals can’t talk business while shootin’ pool. Bitch of it is nickin’ ‘em’s butter…” Hardison trailed off.

“Moving them is the issue,” I finished, “I’m sure you know something about that.”

“Yes, especially with those inscribed ID numbers,” Kerrity agreed.

“There are ways around that,” I commented.

“I got this laser, see,” Hardison continued, “Only one in the country, mind you. This thing, I had to bring over piece by soddin’ piece from Turkmenistan. It can scrub and ID clean off any diamond. Re-virginized.”

“And what kind of fee do you charge for such a service?” Kerrity asked.

“Thirty percent,” Hardison answered.

“Five percent.”

“Thirty percent,” Hardison reiterated.

“No way in hell.”

“That’s the discounted rate, brother. Cause anything lower than that is an insulted rate, cause it's an insult to me, savvy?”

I jumped in to even out the tension, “You said it yourself, Kerrity, it’s a very specialized service. If you can somehow transport your diamonds elsewhere, get someone else to do it, be our guest.” I slid off the pool table and returned to my spot on the end, grabbing my pool cue, “I will say, good luck executing that, let alone getting a better rate.” I began to rechalk my cue, not trusting myself to take a shot just yet.

“You, uh, you ring me when you wisen up, hear?” Hardison said, writing his phone number on a napkin.

Kerrity looked at the napkin for a moment before throwing it on the table, “Thanks, but no thanks, brother.” He swiftly walked away.

The Russian walked up and grabbed the napkin carefully before walking away, following Kerrity.

I let out a sigh in relief once they were gone. I finally leaned down and took a shot, hissing when the ball glanced off a corner, just out of the pocket.

“Close,” Eliot commented before taking his own shot, sinking it easily, and moving on to the next one.

“Why do I even bother?” I asked myself.

Eliot stepped up next to me, “You’ve gotta start somewhere, we’ll just have to practice more in the pub.”

“Hey,” Hardison cut in, “You can’t talk, remember?”

“Dammit, Hardison!” Eliot exclaimed, continuing to shoot pool, finishing the game quickly. He continued to berate him saying that it was stupid.

As he shot each ball in, one after the other, I couldn’t help but focus on how he’d said that we should practice. The fact he wanted to do it together warmed my heart a little bit. As I started to imagine it, I couldn’t stop the image of Eliot looking at Mikel from the last job popping into my head. The image of Eliot’s blush when Mikel brought out handcuffs flashed before I fought it down. It shouldn’t have bothered me, it was none of my business. We were coworkers, friends at best. Still, I could enjoy the feelings he gave me and the moments we had together.

Once Eliot sunk his last shot, he left the bar. I helped clean up before the rest of us followed him.’

“Ice Man?” Eliot asked Hardison once we got back to Nate’s apartment.

“Hey, I put a lot of work into that character,” Hardison defended. “No, no, no, I bought new clothes, ugly as hell, too.”

“You got that right,” I whispered to Parker and she smiled at me.

“This always happens when you go on the grift, Hardison,” Eliot said, “you go way too big.”

“You have to have some subtlety,” I commented.

“Yeah, Sophie told me to say as little as possible,” Parker explained, “let the character do the work.”

“When did, uh, Sophie say that?” Nate asked, walking down the stairs into the common area of the apartment.

“A long time ago,” Parker said quickly, “maybe last Christmas. I don’t even think it was Sophie.”

Nate wasn’t quite convinced, but moved on anyway, straightening his tie, “I’m gonna go put more pressure on Kerrity. I want you guys to be on the clear-out. Ice Man, play it cool. That’s just an awful, awful name.”

“Genius,” Hardison tried to correct in his character’s accent.

“See?” Eliot said. “When you get in too deep on this, I ain’t bailin’ your ass out.”

“I don’t need you to bail me out. I’m the Ice Man.”

“Not. Gonna. Help.” Eliot emphasized again.

I laughed at their expressions, clearly annoyed at each other. “Well, what’s done is done. Let’s just hope we can still pull this off. Even with Hardison’s accent,” I continued to laugh at myself as I retreated to my apartment.

It didn’t take long after Nate put some pressure on Kerrity as an insurance guy that Kerrity called Hardison to set up a meeting to see the laser at work. Parker, Eliot, and I drove to the lab where we were going to ‘borrow’ a laser.

Once we pulled up, Eliot was on the phone with someone, but Parker and I could only hear his side of the conversation: “I know. He’s driving me crazy. How, huh? I’m back up, they can’t rely on me. Alright, alright. Hey… thanks. Don’t tell Nate I called.”

“Who was that?” Parker asked.

Eliot hesitated, “Cable company.”

Parker and I shared a look before I handed her the duffle bag from Eliot’s truck bed and sent them into the lab. Parker and Eliot went in and cleared out the lab with a chemical exposure evacuation, leaving it empty for our purposes. They set up a camera so Nate could see what was going on, and got ready for Kerrity’s arrival.

I stayed in the parking lot waiting for Kerrity to pull in. I timed my approach into the building to run into him and walk him into the lab.

“Mr. Kerrity, so glad you could make it,” I said, meeting him just before the door.

He opened the door for me, “Pleasure is mine, Ms. Annaka.”

I led him and the Russian he brought with him through the hallways to the lab where Parker and Eliot were waiting.

“Where is Mr. Ice?” Kerrity asked once we stepped inside.

“He’s late,” Parker responded, “He’s always late.”

There was a roar of an engine outside. We all glanced out and watched as Hardison pulled up in a red Ferrari.

“Hmm. Subtle,” Kerrity commented.

“While he walks in,” I said, “May I see the stone?”

Kerrity presented the diamond, “Two carats. Very few flaws, my salesman said.”

I pulled out a jewelry loupe, a type of mini magnifying glass, that I picked up somewhere and examined the stone. I found the ID number, though it was still too small to quite read it. I commented that I found it and examined the body of the stone. I had little to no idea what I was looking for, but I figured he didn’t either.

I finally looked up at him, “It’s a good stone, Mr. Kerrity. It should do nicely.”

Just as I had said so, Hardison walked into the lab with smug grandeur, “The Ice Man cometh.” He gestured to the machine on the table, “Let me introduce you to my laser, Glinda. You see, I found that laser fluences below the diamond graphitization threshold are most effective. Wouldn’t you say?”

Eliot and I made eye contact and shook our heads when Kerrity and the Russian weren’t looking. He was doing too much.

“Yeah,” Kerrity hesitantly agreed. Clearly not knowing what the heck he said, like the rest of us.

“The diamond?” Hardison asked.

Kerrity gestured to me as I handed the stone over to Hardison. I was tempted to make an ‘oops, I lost it’ joke, but knew that wasn’t wise, for both the tension and the character.

Hardison examined it, “She’s a beaut. Sheila, get me a pop.” He didn’t even look at Parker when he asked which I could tell she didn’t appreciate, even through her hard neutral expression.

“Because this will be classified IF, an internally flawless two-carat round cut diamond, it should be easy to oblate,” Hardison continued, placing the diamond in place for the laser.

Parker was out grabbing a cubic zirconia from a neighboring lab to replace the diamond while grabbing that pop.

“How is this gonna fool him?” She asked Nate.

“He’s not looking at the diamond, he’s looking at the ID number,” he responded.

“ID numbers are etched at a depth between five and seven microns,” Hardison explained while the laser ran around the diamond. “Using nanoblation, the UV laser pulses irradiate the etching.”

Parker walked in then with an open can of pop and handed it to Hardison.

“Thank you, sweets.”

Kerrity turned to me, “I haven’t seen you contribute much to this partnership.”

I smiled softly, nodding towards Hardison, “He likes to show off in front of new clients, I don’t mind being more behind the scenes.”

He hummed curiously before turning back to Hardison who was taking the diamond out of the machine. I saw Hardison’s switch of the diamond for the cubic zirconia, only because I was looking for it. He handed the fake stone over to Kerrity to examine. Kerrity took it and looked it over with his own loupe.

There was a tense moment when Kerrity looked at Hardison before he said, “It’s like it was never there.”

“I could do the rest in a day, but I’m only here for another week. I’ve got a thing in Antwerp.”

“Alright,” Kerrity said, “let’s, uh, let’s do it tomorrow?”

“Done.”

“Excellent. Mr. Ice, Ms. Annaka.” Kerrity then left the lab with his Russian companion close behind.

“Alright, nice work guys,” Nate said through comms. “Tomorrow, when he shows up with the diamonds, the state police will be there.”

“Why, so they can arrest Hardison’s ego?” Eliot asked as we exited the building.

“They better bring some extra large handcuffs,” I laughed.

“Be cool, baby. Ice cool,” Hardison replied. “Hey, who wants to go for a spin?”

“Can’t believe you rented a Ferrari,” Eliot said.

“Rented?”

“I’ll get a ride home with Eliot,” Parker said.

“Maybe some other time, Hardison,” I responded, “I’m kinda tired, gonna lay down in Eliot’s back seat.”

Hardison scoffed, “Y’all are just jealous,” but we were already crossing the parking lot.

I did just what I said I was going to when I crawled in the back seat, leaving Parker and Eliot up front. I had to curl up a bit, but it was decently comfortable on the worn seat, making it soft.

“Hey, you alright?” Eliot asked once he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Yeah, I think I was just stressed, and now that this is almost over-” I yawned, “I’m just a bit tired is all.”

Eliot adjusted his rear view mirror a touch so he could make eye contact with me through it, “Well, ya did good. You deserve some rest.” I could feel the sincerity, even through the mirror and sunglasses he was wearing. I smiled and nodded at him, silently thanking him.

Parker then turned and reached a hand towards me which I took with a squeeze, “Yeah, look at us, being grifters. I didn’t even stab anyone!”

“I’m proud of us, Parker,” I said, squeezing her hand one more time before taking my hand back and curling it next to me. My eyes then closed of their own accord, the steady hum of the engine lulling me, if not asleep, away from active wakefulness.

Eventually we got back to the pub and Nate and I’s apartments. I slightly stirred when Eliot turned his truck off, but I couldn’t quite wake myself up until he placed a hand on my shoulder, calling my name. His hand was warm, the gentle movement slowly pulled me out of the slumber I had slipped into. I admit I was slow to move, but Eliot and Parker were patient with me until I got to my door. I trudged through my entry way to my couch, my limbs were heavy, as if I had been physically working all day for the past week. I must have been tense, holding all the stress in my body, for the past two days, trying to be natural and convince Kerrity of our legitimateness.

Oh the irony.

I collapsed on the cushions, letting out a sigh in relief. If all went to plan, tomorrow I wouldn’t even have to play a character. It would all be in the police’s hands then.

It didn’t seem like I was out for very long when Parker was standing above me, practically dragging me off my couch.

“Did I forget to lock my door?” I asked, still waking up.

“No,” she responded simply.

“What’s going on?”

“Hardison got kidnapped by the Russians.”

“Oh.”

We walked through the door to find Eliot angrily shoving an earbud in place, “Tell Hardison if he makes it out alive, I’m gonna snap him in half.”

“Uh, Eliot says hi,” Nate said, apparently into the comms to Hardison. “So what’s the plan there, Ice Man?”

I pulled my own earbud from my pocket and put it in, just in time to hear Hardison explain it, somewhat tactfully in the midst of… company.

“Just so I’m clear, you want me to help break into Kerrity’s vault and steal his diamonds?”

“Oh, beautiful,” Nate commented.

“So, what you’re sayin’ is we’re gonna explode through the ceiling of a tunnel, use a det cord and climb into the vault through the floor?”

“Det cord,” Eliot honed in. “That’s how they blew the armored truck.”

“Exploding through the floor will set the sensor off,” Parker said. “Tunnel’s a terrible way in.”

“Hardison, you’re gonna tell ‘em their plan won’t work,” Nate said.

“Tunnel is a horrible way in,” Parker reemphasized.

“I heard you Parker.”

We listened as Hardison relayed the news, which didn’t seem to go over well with the Russians to the point where Hardison had to commit to getting them in the vault.

“Oh, yes. Of course you will,” Nate said, “Now listen. Hardison, you’re gonna have to figure out a way to buy some time so we can get you outta this. Yeah, get busy.” Nate then took his earpiece out with frustration.

Nate was typing on Hardison’s computer for a little bit before he eventually said, “Guys, guys, I can’t make any sense of Hardison’s files.”

I gestured to it, pulling the computer a bit closer to me, sorting through files to see if there was anything I recognized.

“Do you think you can…?” Nate asked me.

I shook my head, “No idea, probably not.” I had helped Hardison out with some of his technical stuff a time or two, but he did most of the heavy lifting.

“You can’t track him,” Eliot pointed out, “he’s the one that does the tracking.”

“Well maybe he left it on,” Nate hoped.

“Unlikely,” I said, sorting through more files, all of them encrypted.

“What if we tell him to make a run for it?” Parker suggested.

“They’ll kill him,” Eliot answered.

“Well, if he goes along with their plan, they’ll get arrested,” Parker pointed out.

“We gotta find another way for Hardison to break in,” Nate concluded.

“We need a closer look at the vault,” Parker said.

“I’m working on it,” Nate said.

Parker held a small can to us, “Hairspray, you’ll need this.”

“Let me ask you a question, man,” Eliot said. “If Hardison helps these Russians steal the evidence, how are we gonna prove Kerrity set up the robbery?”

“I’m working on it,” Nate stuttered. He gathered his clipboard and papers needed for his insurance agent persona. Parker handed him the can of hairspray; Nate took it and waved at us, “Do not call Sophie.” Nate then dashed out of the apartment, supposedly to Kerrity’s shop.

I worked for a little bit longer on Hardison’s laptop, trying to find anything that could help, but every time I thought I was close to cracking into something useful, I hit a dead end. I sighed, I would have to have Hardison teach me some of this stuff with his systems in case something like this happened again. When I was just about to give up, Nate got to Kerrity’s shop, and a notification popped up that a connected camera was in use. I cast the video onto the large screen in the living room so we could see what he was doing.

Nate had a camera pen directed at Kerrity’s vault to gain more information, mostly for Parker, and for Hardison to relay to the Russians to pretend he knew what he was doing.

“RGB keypad, let me see,” Parker said, “Move the camera to the left… No, vault left. Alright, then you have to do this my way. Remove the sensor while keeping the magnetic field intact. You are going to need a four inch by four inch aluminum plate, double sided tape, and a phillips head screwdriver.”

I slumped into the couch, watching Parker analyze the vault and listening to Hardison relay the information to the Russians. Eliot stood next to Parker, his focus as sharp as ever. The truth of the matter was, everyone here knew at least something that might help Hardison, but I was still stuck dead in the water. I watched, trying to learn.

Kerrity kept listing more safety features inside the vault: pressure sensitive tiles, two cameras monitored by a twenty four hour guard and Kerrity himself, seismic sensor, heat sensors, and motion sensors. This was becoming more and more difficult by the minute.

“Hardison’s not gonna be able to do anything if the heat sensors are on,” Eliot said.

“Nate, use the hairspray,” Parker instructed. “It creates a film that blocks the heat.”

Nate distracted Kerrity long enough to follow through. Then Kerrity told Nate about the security fog that fills the room after the alarm goes off; this fog makes visibility zero. To make matters worse, it would be triggered by any one of the other sensors.

“How bad is it?” Nate asked quietly once Kerrity was out of earshot.

“There’s no way Hardison’s gonna be able to break into that vault,” Parker said matter-of-factly.

“What is Hardison going to do?” Hardison asked, without the accent, so he must be away from the Russians.

“Hardison is going to pretend to break into the vault,” Nate said.

“Well, hopefully the Russians will only pretend to kill him,” Eliot replied.

“No one’s getting killed,” Nate assured. “We’re gonna break in for him.”

The three of us just sat staring at each other, lost in our own thoughts, waiting for Nate to get back to explain what he was thinking. I could see the wheels turning in Parker’s head, going through all the steps to break into the vault. Eliot had a tenseness about him, whether that be anger or concern, I couldn’t tell.

“We’re gonna do this quick and dirty,” Nate said once he got back. “You guys break into the vault before Hardison does, so the Russians think that he’s doing it.”

“Why not?” Parker said. “He’s been taking credit for my work all day anyway.”

“Then Hardison will lead the Russians into the vault a few paces behind him,” Nate concluded.

“Hey, I got something,” Parker said after messing with Hardison’s clicker. The screen showed the security camera feed to the front of Kerrity’s store. Kerrity was showing a fancily dressed woman around his store along with all of the jewelry in the cases.

“Hardison must have hacked into the security feed before he left,” Eliot said.

“Well, well. I’m just gonna have to keep Kerrity out of his own vault,” Nate said, staring at the screen.

We all then loaded up to go save Hardison.

Once we arrived, Nate knocked on the door of the shop first. Kerrity quickly dismissed the woman with him, saying that he would meet up with her later, and let Nate in.

“This had better be important,” Kerrity said when he opened the door.

“Yeah. Can we talk somewhere private?” Nate asked, stepping into the shop.

I then walked in, just catching the door before they went to his back office.

Kerrity was surprised to see me, “Annaka?”

I smiled, obviously flicking my eyes between him and Nate. “Hello, Mr. Kerrity,” I said cautiously.

He caught the hint, “This is Mr. Sterling with the insurance company, he came to discuss something with me.”

“I hope I’m not hindering something here,” Nate said as he shook my hand with a sickly sweet salesman voice that he’s been using.

I shook my head, “Not at all.” I looked to Kerrity, “I don’t mind waiting, finish your business with Mr. Sterling.”

He nodded and brought Nate into his office.

Eliot was at the door just as they turned the corner in an armored truck company uniform with a cart. The guard buzzed him in just as I got to the door to open it for him. The guard came down with some paperwork for Eliot, assuming he was there for delivery.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he whispered to me as I held the door open for him to walk through more easily. He then turned to the guard, “Yo, yo. Late night man. Is there a register I’m supposed to look at?” Eliot was there at the dest with the guard by then and quickly knocked him out. “Sorry, buddy,” he said as he walked by.

I walked to Eliot and the guard, helping tuck him out of sight and out of the way for the rest of the night.

“Okay Parker, you’re clear,” Eliot told her through comms, “come on down.”

She had perched herself on a ledge next to the security camera facing the street, holding a photo of an armored truck on the street for the guard’s benefit. I could almost feel her joy as she came down with her rig. I quickly let her in so she could get to the vault. I then stationed myself in the security room watching the cameras. I was out of sight and out of the way for the essential gears of the operation, but still in the shop if I needed to lend a hand somewhere, namely keeping Kerrity busy.

Nate was talking to Kerrity about his insurance policy and discrepancies that may deny his claim, trying to keep him occupied for as long as he could. So far, he was successful. Hopefully he could keep it up.

Meanwhile, Parker was working on the vault, getting it cracked and ready for Hardison.

“This will hold them together,” she said softly as she placed the aluminum plates on the vault.

“Electric’s faster,” Eliot said as he handed her a screwdriver.

“Vibrations will set off the seismic sensor,” she replied simply.

Eliot shook his head and returned to the front of the store.

Parker continued to work on the vault with quick efficiency. It was interesting to watch through the camera as there was no hesitation in any of her movements.

It didn’t take as long as I had hoped for movement on the outside camera to catch my attention. A big black van pulled up in front with Hardison and the Russians hopping out of it.

“Here they come,” I said.

Hardison reiterated it with his own quiet announcement, “Eliot, approaching the building. Approaching the building.” He then switched to his accent for the Russians, “Wait here, right? Gotta handle the initial break-in myself. Too many cooks and all.”

Eliot buzzed Hardison in when he banged on the door. They then proceeded to act out Hardison beating up Eliot. I winced, but was impressed at how realistic it looked when Eliot threw himself to the ground. Hardison continued to ‘punch’ Eliot for an extended amount of time while the two argued.

“Next time,” Eliot said, “I’m playing the thief!”

“I’d like to hear you do an accent,” Hardison said.

“I’d like to hear you do an accent,” Eliot replied.

“I went to Second City in Chicago.”

“You find time between that and karate at the Y?”

“You know what? Just shut up. Shut up.”

“Shut up, guys,” Parker said calmly, trying to concentrate on the vault.

She was able to get in when Hardison and Eliot finished their act, Eliot acting unconscious and Hardison letting in the Russians. Nate continued to distract Kerrity, shifting to his second point, the bribe. So far, so good.

Eliot joined me in the security room and watched as Parker hung on the inside of the door and leapt to a bar or pipe on the ceiling, preventing her from touching the floor and triggering the pressure tiles.

“Stuck it,” Eliot commented in praise.

“Indeed,” I agreed, impressed.

Hardison made his way to the vault, making a bit of a show of taking steps to crack the vault. He put a stethoscope to the vault door to ‘pick’ the vault combo.

“Parker wrote the combination in invisible ink on the door next to you,” Eliot told Hardison. “She’s in there, but she hasn’t deactivated the floor yet.”

“So take your time on the tumblers. Take it slow,” I said.

He was able to delay a bit by talking to the Russians. “Sorry?” He asked when the leader spoke up.

“I said you’re really everything you claimed,” the Russian repeated.

Hardison shrugged, “If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’.”

“Yes, you are. Yes, you are,” the Russian laughed. “I’m sorry, just a saying. English, very tricky.”

Hardison went back to the tumblers.

“Hardison, slow down. You’re breezing through that combo, like, way too fast,” Eliot said. “Parker, what’s your ETA?”

“Not ready yet. Floor is still hot,” she replied.

Eliot and I shared a concerned look.

“Nate, our timing’s not gonna work out,” Eliot said.

Nate, of course, couldn’t answer as he was still keeping Kerrity busy. That was quickly reaching its end though as Kerrity wasn’t taking the bribing narrative that Nate was selling.

“Parker, get a move on. Nate and Hardison are way ahead of you,” Eliot said.

“The floor is clear.”

“Nate, Parker is still in the vault.”

The Russians were pressing Hardison to get in the vault, and he wasn’t doing a very good job of stalling.

“I need sixty seconds,” Parker said.

“Well, can you turn invisible in sixty seconds? Cause they’re bustin’ in there,” Eliot replied.

“I’m gonna go slow Hardison down, buy her some time,” I said, walking out of the security room.

“Y/n-” Eliot tried to say, but I was already gone.

I walked the hallway towards the vault until the Russians and Hardison came into view. Hardison was just about to open the door when I called, “Ice!”

The four of them turned to me, the Russians clearly not happy. I suddenly took a hard swallow, I might not have thought this through.

“Annaka? What are you doin’ here?” Hardison asked, looking a bit relieved at the distraction.

“You think I wouldn’t find you? We had a plan when it came to situations such as these, you are undermining your reputation from a business perspective! Who is going to work with us now if you just keep stealing their stuff?” I said it all quickly and with exasperation. I could hear my own nervousness, and I hoped that the distance I kept between myself and the Russians wasn’t too suspicious.

“I’m sorry, hun,” Hardison said, “But this was an offer I couldn’t refuse, I’m afraid.”

“Yes,” the Russian said, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a job to do.”

They turned back towards the door and away from me.

“Parker?” I whispered, not sure how else to hold them.

“I’m clear,” she said.

“Fine!” I said to the men in front of me, ready to make my leave, “But I want nothing to do with it!” I then turned on my heel and left the room, hearing the vault open behind me.

I heard Hardison say, “Don’t worry ‘bout her. She won’t do nothin’. Let’s get this done.”

I went back to the security room where Eliot was watching the security feeds tensely. “How’s it going?” I asked once I stood next to him.

“Fine, thanks to you,” he said, “But that was reckless. Those Russians could have done somethin’ to you, could have killed you.”

I let out a shaky breath, “Yeah, I realized that once I got there.”

Our work here was done, so Eliot and I made our way out of the shop into the tunnel below for the final escape.

“Guys, uh, Kerrity is on his way down there,” Nate said when he wasn’t able to hold him in his office any longer.

Hardison was able to distract the Russians with Kerrity’s arrival long enough for Hardison to slip into Parker’s hiding spot, one of the large lock boxes. Parker blew a hole in the floor, dropping the two of them into the tunnel below where Eliot and I were waiting. This, coincidentally, also set off the seismic sensor and the security system. Who knew?

“Det cord,” Eliot explained simply to Hardison as we helped them up from the floor.

We then made our way out of the tunnel to fresh air and freedom. Nate was waiting for us at the end of it.

“Thought we couldn’t use this tunnel,” Hardison said once we were out.

“Tunnel’s a horrible way in,” Nate replied, “but it’s a great way out.”

Once we were back, we reviewed what happened through the video feed Hardison had hacked. Hardison left the lock box with the diamonds tactfully open for when the police came to respond to the tripped alarm. This helped Lieutenant Bonanno find them; and with Kerrity reporting that his loose diamonds were stolen, this might as well have been an open and shut case. The matching ID numbers would just be the nails in the coffin.

We were able to clear our client’s name and score him some cash from the swiped diamond we got after lasering off the ID number. As usual, this called for a celebration in the pub while Nate shared the good news with the client.

Parker, Eliot, Hardison, and I all sat at the corner of the bar, it becoming a usual spot. Hardison turned back to the bar laughing after seeing the happy look on our client’s face.

“What are you smilin’ at?” Eliot asked. “You still screwed it up.”

“I’m smiling cause you said if I got in trouble, you wouldn’t help me,” he responded.

“Parker made me,” Eliot excused.

“No, I didn’t,” she denied.

“Come on, man. Let’s hug it out,” Hardison said.

“I’m not hugging it out, Ice Man.”

“Just hug it… Just a little man love.”

“I’m not hugging it out with you.”

They went back and forth before Hardison forced himself onto Eliot in one of the most awkward hugs I’ve ever seen. Parker looked almost just as uncomfortable, but I just chuckled at them.

Eliot eventually freed himself from Hardison’s grasp and stepped away from the bar. He stepped over to where I sat and said to me, “I promised you some pool practice, do you wanna go?”

I nodded, smiling at Parker and Hardison before turning fully to Eliot, “Yeah, let’s go.” I slid off the stool, standing next to him for a moment.

He placed a hand on my shoulder and steered me towards the pool table at the back of the pub. His hand sent warmth through me, even as he was still grumbling about Hardison under his breath. I came to the conclusion that no matter how he looks at other women, Mikel, or anything else that may come up, I can still enjoy these moments with him. The moments where he’s comforting, protective, and now, when he just wants a bit of escape, and he could find that in me and playing pool, no matter my skill level.

It might mean a little to him, these little moments, but they meant something to me, and that is all that really mattered.

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @instantdinosaurtidalwave @kniselle @technikerin23 @kiwikitty13 @plasticbottleholder

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer #leverage #rewrite #slow burn #multichapter #nate ford #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #parker #ford!reader

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bookqueenrules · 8 months

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I go back and forth on Beth being alive and TPTB just being shitty writers who needed a shock value death. The back half of season 5 was so hard to get through cause I just wanted answers. Then sometimes I think 5x08 was just a shitty last minute rewrite because we know so much else was filmed and there was a shit ton of symbolism throughout the first half that meant her living. I still can’t get over the car scene in 5x10 or the coda after she gets shot. That’s the worst part is not having answers. But you’re 100% right. If they want viewers back then they NEED to shake it up. Stop writing in circles.

Hi,

I think the truth is that we can't be 100% sure of anything. I would refer you to the AMAZING twdmusicboxmystery and her fellow theorist for all of the symbolism and weirdness pointing to Beth's return. I love analyzing the symbols too, but I also look at the practical.

So, the whole purpose of this spin-off is Daryl's happy ending, right? Judith says this to him as he is LEAVING Carol and Jude. So, how could just making it back home to them be his happy ending? It can't. Sorry to Carly fans, but they ended the flagship with Carol/Zeke rebuilding their relationship and yet another BEST FRIEND declaration from both Daryl and Carol. It won't be adding a romance with Carol as his happy ending. He could have had that any time in the last few seasons.

Will it be Isabelle? A French nun? How is that going to work in the TWD universe? Daryl WILL, at some point, have to go home. I have more thoughts on why it won't be Isabelle in the previous ask.

Connie? That has been firmly cemented as a friend only relationship. Daryl and Connie had a couple of years to pursue something and never did.

A new character? Not likely. The fans wouldn't accept it, and, practically speaking, the first two seasons of DD are filming in France, so the character would have some of the same issues as Isabelle does as Daryl's happy ending.

Beth was taken away from Daryl before their relationship could develop further, but even though we don't "see" it go full romance, Daryl is devastated and inconsolable for quite some time at her loss. He doesn't react the same to loosing anyone else. Did he burn himself over Merle or Rick? No. That should speak volumes to the audience. She has tons of ties to the remaining TWD characters. Practically, it is hard to make a case for it being anyone BUT Beth.

But, she's dead, right? On FTWD the have brought back not one but TWO core characters the audience thought were dead for MANY years this season. The original working title of the DD spin-off was Raise the Dead! The whole TWDU is about raising the dead!

Fun Fact: According to the University of Google, a person has 42% of surviving a gunshot wound to the head if they receive medical treatment. The last time we saw Beth she was at Grady. We didn't see her buried or what happened to her body. This is EASY writing to bring her back.

Here is something interesting Angela Kang, who is a TWD showrunner and an executive producer of DD, said about Leah. When questioned she said they had NEVER planned to show Leah/Daryl kissing, COVID or not, because they knew where the story was going. She said they wanted to save Daryl's first on screen kiss for something monumental. When he really kisses someone, a romantic lip to lip, we will know that's it.

So, the writers have been holding out not having, IMO, their sexiest male lead even KISS anyone for 12 years! Why? The only sane answer is that had a plan all along. The plan may have been delayed or altered slightly, but Beth has always been the plan. They have stuck to that. I believe she will show up, but I am concerned that their continuing to delay bringing her back and restarting her story will negatively impact the spin-off, and the story they end up telling.

I know that was a LONG answer but thank you for the ask!

#team delusional #bethyl #beth greene lives #beth greene #twd daryl and beth #twdmusicboxmystery #beth is coming

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roxasboxas · 11 months

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The "Luxu is Ventus' Dad" Theory 3rd Anniversary Remastered Edition

AKA: Theorizing two characters are related based on their lack of screentime together. Because this post is now 3 years old and we have some more information, I'm finally rewriting it.

Due to the release and completion of Dark Road, we now have a more solid idea of Luxu's personality and can say with relative certainty that we never met the original Braig. That was always Luxu. This was always likely, since as far back as BBS the guy was trying to snag MoM's keyblade back from Xehanort, but Bragi's mannerisms being revealed as Luxu-isms basically confirms it 100%.

This means that Braig's one (1) shown interaction with Ventus is also Luxu's one (1) shown interaction with Ventus.

The interaction goes as follows:

Braig (who is Luxu): How 'bout you leave the popsicle with me, so you can go have your little fight with Terra. You can't be too happy about him deep-sixing your Master. Aqua: Who are you? Braig: You think you two have got some grand role to play. As if. You're only here so that when I finish you off... Terra will succumb to the darkness. So... who wants to go first? Ventus: Shut up! Braig: Oh, so this kiddo thinks he's a full-fledged Keyblade wielder? He's got the angry look down. Aqua: Go ahead if you want to waste your time. Keep trying to drive us apart with your mind games. It'll never work!

Now, this is admittedly not immediately promising, but it actually gives us a lot to work with. It's their only interaction, and it's not exactly a positive one. Even though it's only a bluff, it's still a pretty heavy threat.

[Please note, lots of things after this point, Tumblr has eaten at least once.]

But then, if it's their only interaction, then...

Why does he talk like there have been more?

For that first bit, we know he's not talking about Roxas at that point in KH2: Roxas doesn't glare at him like that during Days.

And the second image is even more interesting. Most people at this point are seeing Xion as Sora. Axel, one of her best friends, sees Sora's face. Xemnas, the guy who's made of Terra (who trained alongside Ventus for multiple years) and Xehanort (who trained Ventus for a time and grew up dreaming memories of someone else’s life that include him) sees Sora's face.

Xigbar sees Ventus. I dunno about you, but to me having one hostile interaction with a teenager ten years ago does not override psychic mumbo-jumbo better than knowing that teenager for a cumulative 4 or 5 years. Even if you have amnesia-- especially by Kingdom Hearts rules, those memories are still there, even if you don't have access to them.

(Before that line, he also comments "What a blast from the past." Wouldn't be a "blast" if they met, like, once.)

And, as of Dark Road, we know that Luxu is willing to let the people he cares about die.

Bragi's confrontation with Baldr begins with him saying "You... It was you..." in reference to Baldr having killed, like, a decent chunk of the people they know. This is not an emotionally detached reaction! Luxu cared about these people! Maybe not as peers the way they cared about him, but he did care! He does care about the ones that are still alive!

So what does he say after revealing his identity and disarming Baldr in a single motion?

He's not gonna do shit! He demonstrably could kick this guy's ass, but he chooses not to. Even though he cares about these people. Even though one of them is the grandson of someone he already demonstrably has a connection to from back before he wound up this jaded. That one, which he later on again did nothing to save, even with more and more reasons to do so stacking up.

Let's go back to the scene where Luxu and Ventus actually, you know, talk to each other, because there's actually a subtler detail in it that I want to talk about.

"Oh, so this kiddo thinks he's a full-fledged Keyblade wielder? He's got the angry look down."

In this one line of dialogue, Braig calls Ventus "kiddo." You might be wondering, "What's the big deal? He calls Roxas that all the time!" Yes, he does. He also calls him "Tiger," and Xion gets called "Poppet," both with notable regularity.

Contrast that with how he talks to, say, Sora. He still talks down to him, but he uses nicknames much more sparingly. In fact, he doesn't use any for Sora until Dream Drop Distance. All through Kingdom Hearts 2, the Organization is trying to stir Roxas' consciousness within Sora, but Xigbar doesn't call him any of the nicknames he used for and around the guy the whole time.

Not until DDD, when they've already given up on that plan. He starts out with a "sleepyhead", but there's a very specific moment I want to draw your attention to. A moment I may have neglected to mention earlier in this post, despite its relevance.

Xigbar comments on the thing Sora does that reminds him of Ventus. Then he calls him "Kiddo." And then he never calls him a nickname ever again. I'm not kidding. Never ever.

We don't see a lot of him interacting with young people outside the Heart Hotel, but we do see once in Kingdom Hearts three he calls the Real Organization's Riku Replica "Kid." Not "Kiddo," but "Kid." An interesting distinction, don't you think?

So, to recap so far: One interaction, yet Xigbar talks about Ventus consistently. He's the only one to see Xion with Ventus' face. He uses nicknames more often on kids that remind him of Ventus, and specifically uses a different variation on a kid that doesn't.

"Okay Ace," you're probably thinking, "I can accept that this proves a connection definitely exists between Luxu and Ventus. But why are you so sure that they are father and son specifically?" Well, I have a few reasons.

We don't technically know how old Luxu is, but he is an adult when Ventus is like 10 or 11. It's not impossible for them to be, like, siblings or something, since some people have kids pretty far apart, but it's not dreadfully likely to me. Based on my own experiences with my big sister, they don't really act like siblings to me, but I suppose that's a personal thing. You could say Luxu "sounds young" in Back Cover, but once you hit a certain point a lot of peoples' voices stay the same for a long time.

Nomura has stated that the next part of the series will be focusing on "bloodlines." We already know we're probably gonna be seeing Eraqus' grandfather in ML and that guy's probably gonna be Brain. Xehanort's already descended from Ephemer. Characters are already descended from each other.

Luxu is short for Luxuria, the sin of Lust. So, from a certain perspective, Xigbar canonically fucks.

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cybernightart · 10 months

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Oc/ OC character design rant

I'm rewriting and redesigning so much of my OC's lore and designs that alot of them are essentially different people, and I'm happy about that.

And I'm at the point where one of my OCS where everything was going smoothly until I feel like I've just hit a brick wall at full speed, I have his personality I have his name I have his backstory I have everything of how we integrates in with the rest of the characters except I don't know what he looks like. I've only just realized after years I never fully settled on a design for him and was just always rapidly switching between very different looking designs.

So now I'm having to come up with a design that I like and the only things that I have to work from are:

.His name is Tyler Frost

. He/him

.He is very tall like almost 7 ft

.He has a magical healing ability that he can use to heal people's wounds and see their injuries and becomes a doctor to sort of hide the fact he has this ability while still being able to help people

. while he's really good at using his healing ability, he absolutely sucks at using the second ability which he got from his other parent, being ice magic! (a lot of ice pack related jokes get made because of this combination of healing ability and Ice ability)

. he is also really strong and likes to work out alot, he actually ends up meeting his boyfriend at the gym.

So he's kind of built like a polar bear, because he is absolutely massive and also doesn't get cold. And while he is big and cuddly he is also very dangerous when he wants to be, because who's going to mess with someone who knows where every single one of your most vulnerable places is on your body.

I know I want to give him white hair, and very light icy blue eyes but apart from that I have no idea.

For his skin tone I'm debating between two, either frosty cool white where his skin looks like snow White (his white as snow), or going along with the built like a polar bear thing, he's got really dark skin because polar bears under their white fur have really dark skin (I would have to double check exactly what colour polar bears typically have cuz I don't remember that off the top of my head)

His fashion sense is probably chaotic sleep deprived medical student ,because that's what he is during the main plot. But at the same time his fashion sense would also be crossed with like a gym bro.

So he is simultaneously the healthiest guy and the most unhealthy guy, because while he is getting a proper amount of exercise and is eating good things, he is also consuming far too much caffeine and gets little to no sleep. With the only reason he is actually eating healthy foods being since he forgets to make himself food, his boyfriend ends up making him food when he's making his own lunch. and since his boyfriend is vegetarian (due to medical reasons he physically can't eat meat) he unintentionally ends up making him vegetarian food as well.

It is so infuriating, because I have such a clear picture of him in my head but at the same time he is just a blurry unknown figure of a person, with certain features being crystal clear .

I have other OCS who have this problem, but the issue is he is a main character and the main OC while the other ones aren't so they're not as relevant and immediately needing designs. And I can't draw artwork of him and his boyfriend Jaymes together until I actually know what he looks like >:/

Thank you for coming to my tedtal- I'm mean... Rant lol

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kingwithpaintedfingers · 10 months

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If you were the official writer for Warhammer 40k, what sort of themes would you explore and what big events do you want to happen in the Grimdark Galaxy?

Sorry for taking so long to reply to this one, for some reason this question didn't show up on mobile.

To be honest, I'd hate to be in charge of the whole mess xD I'm not good at managing people, and I'm afraid they'd be passive-aggressive if I told them to change the way they write. And besides, it ain't all about me and what I like to read! There are a lot of people who like what they currently publish, and that's okay.

But I would like to be catered to a little with canon, y'know?

So, themes I would like to explore...

If we're going to be all grim-dark, let's get grim-dark with the Astartes and Primarchs, eh? Show them having more tender sides. Explore what they really are: child-soldiers, subjected to radical medical and psychological treatments that are often fatal, all for the glory of an authoritarian government, all so they can maybe have some glory someday?? Some authors do do that. When I provided my monster list of recs, I criminally forgot Aaron Dembsky-Bowden's Night Lord series, which does explore this! It shows the tragic nature of some of the most monstrous people in 40k while also not shying away from how, y'know, fucking monstrous these characters are. So...more stuff like that, I guess? Yeah, more stuff like that! No more stoic marines.

Let's see more xenos stories, too. How about some stories from the perspective of Tyranids? Some Tyranids are supposed to have human-level intelligence, so why not stories about Tyranids fighting for their hive? Maybe at the end the protagonist, a synapse creature mortally wounded in the protection of their biomatter pools, gives the orders to their subordinates to devour them and bring them to the digester pool so that they can be one with their hive forever? Have it be an uplifting, transcendent experience for them. You've got your grimdark there, the whole...dying and being eaten thing...but also some freaking light, dying what a Tyranid considers to be "the good death." If Necrons can be rewritten to not be mindless automatons of metal, then why not rewrite Tyranids to not be mindless automatons of flesh and chitin?

More alliances. More bridging gaps. I know it's not very 40k, I know it goes against everything they've ever written, but franchises are allowed to evolve, to change over time, yes?

And finally, I'd love to read stories about the early lives and early struggles of the Primarchs. Show them struggling to overcome, show them making friends and making mistakes, learning how to become great heroes instead of just...fully forming. Show us more interesting stories and settings.

And for the love of all the gods and other entities considered holy, give us some fucking light. Have some more uplifting stories. Seriously, having everything be sad and awful all the time gets boring and it's the reason I don't read that much 40k, because it gets so damn depressing. I read for escapism, damnit, please don't make the only uplifting thing in your book be that the Imperium hates aliens so much that they're okay with gays and POC, because in some books, that's the only happy thing going on.

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ashipiko · 3 months

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If you’re still doing the OC questions thing, may I ask for 6, 12, 18 with Ashi?

THANK YOU LILLYYY 🫶 v happy to see you in my inbox!!!

LIST

6. What is their worst class?

ANYTHING HISTORY RELATED. my girl can’t DO IT she could barely do history in her home world AND NOW IN THIS RANDOM WORLD????? PLEASE. SHE CANNOT. she just doodles in that class NGL 😔 trying her best to rmb but she just can’t………

12. What is your OC’s favorite event(s), what was their role?

you’re BLESSING ME WITH THIS ONE.

ASHI. GHOST MARRIAGE. HER EVENT.

😭😭 this event is just known as MY event w my friends because when it first came out like. in JP I was FREAKING OUT OVER ACE and it’s forev my fave Acey card…. SO OF COURSE ASHI PLAYS A MAJOR PART IN IT!!! FOR THOSE WHO ARE NOT AWARE. ghost marriage w ashi is a slightly altered SLIGHTLY rewritten event where ashi channels her rizz and woos Eliza!!! it’s fun and chaotic AND CONTENT FOR IT CAN BE FOUND HERE AND HERE

THE EVENT IS BASICALLY THE SAME just that after the second group goes in and gets slapped, ashi’s watching and is like “damn fam… yall’s rizz is Hella Bad” and she ends up going to sam’s, buying a suit, taking the ring and making her way to woo eliza herself. AND IT WORKS? BECAUSE ASHI IS JUST REALLY GOOD W WOMEN??? DESPITE BEING STRAIGHT?????? IT’S A CURSE like actually FR. ANYWAY it works and Ashi even puts the ring on her finger but nothin works?? BECAUSE OF ACE. BECAUSE THE TWO OF EM WERE MESSING AROUND W THE FAKE AND REAL RING AND ASHI TOOK THE WRONG ONE BY ACCIDENT. so due to peer pressure and being blamed ace is all “JEEZ FINE ILL SAVE HER” and that’s when the actual groom team goes in!!

IF YOU’RE WONDERING ABOUT IDIA……. nobody cares about him 😔 they all end up going “why did it have to be ashi? couldn’t idia still be there instead?” AND HE’S LIKE “WHY DO YOU GUYS ALL HATE ME……” and it’s really funny 🫶 ashi is scared for her LIFE because she’s terrified of ghosts and also her hopeless romantic is CRYING BECAUSE “I DID NOT WANT TO END UP MARRYING A WOMAN BEFORE I DIED THIS JS NOT ROMANTIC SAVE ME”

ITS A REALLY CHAOTIC EVENT but it also plants the seeds for ashace 🫶 it’s just a fun rewrite for my fave event and I think it’s fun!!! plus afterwards when she hangs out w the first years she talks about her hopeless romanticness and her type….. considered writing a fic for it 🤔

18. What is the hardest thing to adjust to at NRC? The magic? Being away from their family? Ect.

I THINK IT’S A FOOD AND FAMILY SITUATION. ashi whines SOOO much about missing food and even going to scarabia to eat w kalim doesn’t heal the wound…… she just wants some good food from her mom!!!! 😔 she misses her family a lot and gets really homesick. on top of that she also has the worry about what’s happening at home and if anyone misses her and how her family is doing and YADAYDAYADA!!! HAVING TO PROVIDE FOR HERSELF TOO…. she’s too used to being pampered but it was def hardest for her in the beginning having to move into ramshackle and provide for herself at first w/o anyone’s help……..

#SANKYU FOR TYE ASKS LILY they were really fun #twstshi

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queenofmistresses · 2 years

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The Third Musketeer

a/n This is a teen wolf rewrite with a McCall reader and it’s a stiles x reader endgame story. I will be doing one episode per chapter and will hopefully get through the entire series! please give me tips or anything else to help me through, hope you enjoy!

I’ve been friends with Stiles for almost as long as Scott has. He brought Stiles home one day and I guess I just wouldn’t leave them alone until Scott let me play with them, and that was that. Best friends ever since. I’m a year younger than them both but it doesn’t feel like it since I got to skip a grade a few years ago.

I wake up early for the first day back at school, and dress up in my new outfit I bought last week just to start the school year off well. Andd maybe try to grab the attention of a certain overly-energetic-buzzcut boy who’s been obsessed with the same girl since 2nd grade. Or maybe this is my opportunity to find someone new. I’m happy with either at this point.

When I’m ready I realise Scott still hasn’t gotten out of bed for school yet so I grab one of my cushions, sneak into his room and throw it at his face while shouting, “Time to get up!!” I hear his groans and smile, satisfied. He pulls off his blankets and starts getting up but I quickly see the bandage on his side. “Woah woah woah Scott, what the fuck?” “What?” He asks confused, rubbing his eyes. “What the hell happened to you?” I point at the bandage and he cringes looking at it. “It’s a long story. Now get out so I can change.” He mutters and I cross my arms under my chest and give him a look to tell him that I’m not leaving until he tells me. “Uh fine.”

Scott goes through the events of the night before, from nearly killing Stiles with a bat to being bitten by what he thinks is a wolf, (there aren’t any in California right?) I keep that thought to myself.

We go to the bathroom and I pull out the first-aid kit. “You should have woken me up.” I tell him as I take off the large dressing. I grab some antiseptic wipes and start tending to the wound. “What so you could have complained the whole time about how you need your ‘beauty sleep’” He teases and I level him a glare. “No, so that this could be treated properly rather than leaving it to get an infection.” I snap and reapply a new dressing. He looks down. “Sorry.” I nod and walk out to my own bedroom.

I walk to school alone as usual and beat Scott despite him travelling by bike.

I see Stiles parking his Jeep and walk towards him. He gets out and sees me and starts smiling, it almost makes me falter. “Hey y/-“ “You, Stiles Stilinski, are an absolute idiot! Do you have any idea how bad that could have been for Scott?! He’s lucky to be alive and so are you based on the fact that you were looking for a dead body!” He cringes and rubs the back of his neck. “Scott told you huh?” “No. I saw his poor attempt at dealing with the wound and made him tell me. Sometimes you are so- ugh!” I yell and turn around to walk away.

I feel Stiles grab my wrist and he pulls me back around towards him. “Look, I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t think it through. I just got excited about something finally happening here.” “Don’t you think we’re lucky that nothing like that normally happens?” He looks to the floor and I realise that he’s still holding my wrist. He seems to realise too because he let’s go pretty quickly and turns away a little. “Next time I swear I’ll think it through. I promise. Just please don’t be mad? I don’t want to start the new year with you being mad at me.” I think for a moment and look at his puppy eyes. “Fine! But next time you decide to do something stupid and impulsive, give me some warning? Please.” “Deal!” He grins.

It’s not long until we see Scott ride in on his bike and we walk over to him. “Let me see then.” Stiles says to my annoyance, before Scott lifts up his shirt to reveal a massive bandage with blood on it, “Ouch. Did it really need a bandage that big?” He glances at me. “Yep. I’m gonna have to pick up some more later if you’re not gonna tell mom.”

We start walking towards the school building. “It was too dark to see much but I think it might have been a wolf.” Scott says and I glance at Stiles to see the same confused look I had when he told me. “A wolf bit you?” Scott nods. “No, not a chance.” “I heard a wolf howling.” “No you didn’t.” “What do you mean ‘no I didn’t’, I know what I heard.” “Because California doesn’t have wolves ok?” “I knew it!” I chime in after him. Scott glances at me, then back at Stiles. “Really?” “Yes really. There are no wolves in California.” Stiles says.

“Alright, well if you don’t believe me about the wolf, then you’re definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I found the body.” “Are you kidding me?” Stiles says suddenly excited. “No, man, I wish. I’m gonna have nightmares for a month.” “Yeah well that’s what you get.” I mumble more to myself than anyone else. They didn’t seem to hear anyway. “Oh, God. That is freaking awesome. I mean this is seriously going to be the best thing that’s happened to this town since- the birth of Lydia Martin.” I see Lydia walk past with that smug smirk she always has an roll my eyes. “Hey Lydia! You look… like you’re gonna ignore me.” I snort a little “You’re the cause of this you know?” He turns to Scott. “Dragging us down in your nerd depths. I’m a nerd by association.” “Oh you’re definitely a nerd.” I say as we hear the bell and start to walk in.

I’m in a different class to Scott and Stiles for our first lesson, so when I see Scott staring at a girl I’ve never seen before I get a little confused. I stand behind him and watch Lydia befriend her quickly. “Tell me how new girl is here all of 5 minutes, and she’s already hanging out with Lydia’s clique?” My friend from biology asks. “Because she’s hot.” Stiles replies a little breathlessly. “Beautiful people herd together.” “And on that note.” I take her arm, rolling my eyes again, “we’re leaving. Bye boys, and er Scott?” He hums in acknowledgment, “you’re drooling.” He’s looks up a little started and wipes his mouth to find nothing there, I laugh and walk away with Angela.

I went to the Lacrosse warm up tryouts to watch, as I always do and hear Allison ask about Scott. I try to hide my smile and make a mental note to tell Scott later. I watch as Scott suddenly becomes able to stop each ball from entering the goal. I cheer a little every time, and I’m stood up cheering when he catches one thrown by Jackson with Stiles and Lydia.

The next day were the actual tryouts. Me and Stiles had called the night before where he told me that he had found wolf hair on the half-body they had. I mean I guess it was always possible but that meant Scott probably did get bitten by one. And that he’s even more lucky to be alive.

I cheer on Scott but I can’t help this nagging voice in my head that’s telling me that this is impossible. But I try my best to just feel happy for him. The coach calls him over and for a moment I think that despite his impossible performance, coach wasn’t going to let him play first line, like he had dreamt. But then he said that Scott had made it and I stood up and clapped for him.

I walked over to Stiles as Scott was celebrating. “Hey.” I say, placing my hand on his shoulder as I sat down next to him. He glances at me, biting his nails. “Hey.” I carefully take the hand from his mouth and place them in his lap, letting him play with my fingers, “thanks.” He whispers. I rest my head on his shoulder and look at his nervous face. “Why do I get the feeling you’re having the same thoughts as me?” I ask, and he turns to me. “About Scott?” I nod. “I know he’s been working hard over the summer but…” “Oh thank god. I know it’s gonna sounds crazy but I think it has something to do with the bite.” “Me too.” “Do you wanna come over to mine after school to look into it more? I know you like researching.” He chuckles nervously. I think for a moment. “Yeah, sure.”

When we get to his house we start researching into as much as we can find out werewolves, it’s not the prettiest thing to research.

Scott makes both of us jump when he knocks on the door. Stiles opens the door, tell him to come in and starts rambling. “We’ve been up all night reading. Websites, books. All this information.” “How much adderall have you had today?” Scott asks Stiles “A lot.” I reply, smiling and rubbing my eyes tiredly. “Doesn’t matter. Okay, just listen.” Scott glances at me as if questioning what it’s about. I give him a look to say ‘this is serious’ and he turns back to Stiles. “Is this about the body? Did they find out who did it?” I move my legs so Scott could join me on the bed. “No, they’re still questioning people, even Derek Hale.” “Oh, the guy in the woods that we say the other day?” “Yeah.”

“Anyway, that’s not what this is about! Remember the joke from the other day? Not a joke anymore.” Stiles says seriously. “The wolf, the bite in the woods.” I half listen to Stiles as he rambles on about packs of wolfs and why the howl etc etc.

“Why are you wasting my time with this? You know I’m picking up Allison in an hour.” Scott gets up, quite clearly fed up of Stiles’s rambling. “Look I saw you on the field the yesterday. Okay, what you did wasn’t just amazing, all right? It was impossible.” “Yeah so I made a good shot.” “No! You made an incredible shot. I mean, the way you moved, you’re reflexes?” “People can’t suddenly do that Scott, at least not without drugs.” I add onto Stiles’s point. “Okay! Guys, I can’t think about this now! We’ll talk tomorrow?” “Tomorrow? What? No! The full moon’s tonight! Don’t you get it?” “What are you trying to do? I just made first line, I got a date with a girl who I can’t believe wants to go out with me. Everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?”

I sit up, “We’re trying to help.” I say sternly. “You’re cursed Scott.” Stiles adds, sounding increasingly worried. “And it’s not just that the moon will cause you to physically change. It also just happens to be when your bloodlust will be at it’s peak.” “Bloodlust?” Scott asks but I can hear the sarcasm that Stiles doesn’t pick up on. “Yeah, your urge to kill.” “I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill Stiles.” “Listen to this,” Stiles pulls out a book we picked up from the library, “change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse. All right? I haven’t seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You gotta cancel this date. I’m gonna call her right now.”

Stiles gets and starts searching Scott’s bag for his phone. “What are you doing?” Scott asks. “I’m cancelling the date.” Next thing I know, Scott’s slammed Stiles against the wall and is holding a fist up to his face. “Scott.” I stand up and slowly walk over. “Scott we’re just trying to help.” He let’s out an angry groan and pushes the chair over, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry.” He whispers to Stiles, before grabbing his bag and walking out, saying a sorry to me as well. I don’t reply either.

Stiles lifts up the chair knocked over to reveal scratch marks. And that sick feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach becomes suddenly heavier at the site. “Hey…” I come behind Stiles and place a hand on his shoulder, “you alright?” He nods but doesn’t respond. I place another hand on him and trying to encourage him to face me. I see him worried and slightly teary-eyed, and I pull him into a hug. “It’s alright. I’ve got you. We’ll figure this out.” I whisper, running my fingers through his hair with one hand and rubbing circles on his back with the other.

He pulls back and wipes a few stray tears. “I need to go to that party to keep an eye on him. Wanna come with?” He asks hopeful. “I’ve gotta go home and study, I don’t wanna get behind. Call me if anything happens though.” He nods. “Ok. At least pick me a shirt to wear?” I laugh and nod. “Of course, need you looking your best in case Lydia finally notices you right?” He chuckles as I open his cupboard and start searching.

He drops me home and I wish him luck for the evening. I spend a lot of the time that I’m trying to sleep thinking about what it means if Scott is a werewolf. Nothing could ever be the same again, could it?

#stiles fanfiction #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles x y/n #teen wolf #teen wold rewrite #McCall reader #Buzzcut stiles #stiles x oc #stiles fluff #allison x scott #lydia x jackson

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egg-emperor · 1 year

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Nah bro they can just block you. It's your blog. Post whatever tf you want. There's no rules to this shit. You know what? I write from trauma, too. So do lots of other people. Hell, I wrote a super dark and fucked up fic about motherfucking Mr. Crocker from Fairly Oddparents once, and I want to do a rewrite of it so that it's more fucked up. The first half of it is really me projecting and logicing out a way to make the things that have happened to me to make sense. It's closure.

Just because you went through something particularly fucked up and have an "unconventional" way of expressing it doesn't mean it's Too Traumatizing To Be Seen On Tumblr or whatever the fuck.

People have the choice not to read it. That's what fucking tags are for. You can express yourself as you see fit. It's a human right, in my opinion.

Man, it just pisses me off. The world acts like you owe it your story and then screams at you to shut the fuck up when you tell it the way it happened to you.

thank you so much, I'm really happy that someone else gets it. it's great that it helps you too, that's the type of thing I've done in my concepts of Shadow and Sage with Eggman too. it helps me process what I've been through and makes it easier to think about without breaking down anymore and even manage to find happiness and comfort in it and closure I didn't get from those experiences, or all the people that are abandoning me now over this. I guess people that don't do it, or at least not in the same way, wouldn't understand the reason or appeal.

I'm being told I should've kept it to myself because of that but long gone are the days where I had to keep what happened to me a secret as it was the only option I had, so why should I go back into hiding now? I just want to make and share art with my experiences, my feelings, and pain, whether people understand or not. because there are people that will and might relate in some way at all, like we do with both how we explore these things in our writing. I'm really happy that being open about how this is something I do still has some good come out of it

I feel the same. I did fail to tag one of my posts correctly in this case but even then they could've asked or kept scrolling, before making accusations and judgment. being made to feel like I'm as bad as what happened to me for writing like this makes me feel ill. this was a pleasant experience that helped me feel happiness and comfort before it started feeling like I was being punished by being insulted and judged and losing friends for it. I hurt people but I wish I had the chance to explain before they hurt me too.

you're so right, that's exactly how I feel and that's why what this resulted in is so frustrating and hurtful for me. I was passionate about this and it was helpful but now I'm just here feeling bad about what happened to me and how I decided to express it all over again and now it's another thing I can't get closure for. and I felt the need to explain my reasonings in ways I didn't have to and reopen the wound. it really hurts and makes me feel so alone again. but the reminder that y'all are still here and support and understand me helps me feel better and means a lot to me, thank you.

#asks #abuse mention

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seyaryminamoto · 1 year

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Happy Birthday ! :) Go Capricorns <3 Hope you had a wonderful holiday season. Thank you for giving us this beautiful story. If I may ask, as a writer, how do you keep yourself going? How do you stay motivated and inspired for so long? It’s amazing! And the story you deliver is absolutely breathtaking. I admire you so much <3 P.S Thoughts on the new comics/ movies that avatar studios is coming up with ??

Sorry for taking so long to answer! Happy birthday to you too, Anon! I'm assuming it already passed, with Capricorn season wrapping up and all x'D

So, how do I stay motivated...? To be honest, it's a bit tricky to answer that X'D

I've told this story a few times in the past, I think, but the truth is, I actually wound up writing ATLA fics because I was stuck, absolutely stuck, with an original story over some worldbuilding elements I couldn't figure out. I was infuriated and frustrated by it, so I decided to clear my head and go watch this TV show people kept telling me was soooo good, so I settled on doing that and no longer stressing out about my story...!

... Poor story's been fridged for ten years :') so very cruel of me to do that, I know. And I think that, on top of the fridging, I'm actually bound to have to rewrite the whole thing from scratch one day, so... yeah :'D

The point of sharing this is explaining that, as much as I write up a storm sometimes, I don't ALWAYS do it, it doesn't work with everything, writer's block is no stranger for me, if anything I got waaaay too acquainted with it as a teenage writer who was writing whatever came to mind with zero pressure because it was for her eyes only.

My time writing original fiction as a teenager taught me many lessons, though, and among them, the discipline to write on a regular, constant basis. This isn't something EVERYONE can do, every writer works differently, and I can't pretend I'm permanently, constantly ready to write. But just waiting for inspiration to strike is a dangerous game to play, because... often inspiration arrives for the wrong things, or at the wrong time. I don't write anything out of order if I can help it (though my god, Part 3 is sooo trying to mess with that, organizing this chaotic chunk of the story has NOT been easy x'D), precisely because if I don't push myself through the transition scenes, through the lead-up, and I just jump right into the big moments I REALLY want to write? I'll never write the build-up to it because I'll never feel like it :'D

So, for starters, discipline. The discipline I developed is mostly about being ready to power through when things aren't super engaging. And then, if things didn't feel right because you forced them, you scrap and redo it, specifically by pinpointing the problems that caused things to feel forced. I've had to scrap soooo many ideas that just weren't flowing correctly, and I've had to go around that and figure out other ways to write something, both to make it more engaging and to make it actually work better than whatever I had in mind at first...

... Therefore, secondly, gotta learn to adapt! Once you identify something's not right, or a GREAT idea comes to mind but it potentially derails your previous plans, you slow down to figure out how to adapt, if adapting is possible at all. I actually had some very strange ideas for the arc I'm currently posting in Gladiator, and upon reaching the point where I finally had to write them... I realized that concept didn't work. It might work better on a TV show, maybe, in something audiovisual, because it would have required a lot of switching, back and forth, between two situations that looked the same, at the same time? Kinda? And it just didn't feel right when I finally was supposed to write it, it was too confusing. So... I adapted to what felt right, and I think the result is infinitely better for it :D

Thirdly... which probably should be the first thing, honestly: building scenes.

It sounds weird to say it this way, but this is a key element of how I write stories. It's become such an important part of it that nowadays I've become disgustingly critical of how scenes are built in any content I consume -- I'll have to try and figure out if someone's put my feelings about this into words, maybe in academic essays or books or so, because I admit I really don't know how to explain something that feels so instinctive to me...

But anyway: scene building is the core of how I write. If I were planning on writing a car race, I'd have to think about how that race will end, probably even before I think about how it begins. If it ends with a triumph for the hero, or a defeat, or a brutal accident that causes the race to be cancelled? I have to think about how that would happen, depending on the story I'm telling. Once I settle on the outcome, that retroactively informs then, of what I need to do in order to build this conclusion: how do I develop the characters in order to take them in that direction? And once the conclusion arrives... it has to be the biggest moment of the story. It has to carry narrative weight. A lot of that can be built by setting the stage, something I've found a lot of people don't really seem to think about... but even a small room in a house can be a grand stage for a big story's conclusion if the scene is set properly to pay off there.

So... I build up scenes. When I start thinking about telling stories, the first thing my brain is wired towards is envisioning scenes. Once I come up with a scene that I REALLY want to write, or in some cases, multiple scenes, I start to thread things together. Let's take for example... my "Azula and Sokka as spies" AU from Sokkla Saturdays 2020.

First thing I came up with was the idea, of course, of Sokka and Azula having to work together to save Kuei somehow. The exact threat they were saving him from only came to mind later, what mattered was that they would be in Ba Sing Se, cooperating to put a stop to something dangerous.

Then, I thought of the idea of the two of them being stuck together in a closet or a very tight space, unable to move or do anything because the enemy was right there and would catch them snooping about in the wrong place at the wrong time :'D This specific scene, then, became the core of how I built up that story.

From that core, I started to come up with the conclusion (do they win or lose), as well as how they landed in that situation, what's the threat, why they're working together but as separate agents, what their dynamics would be like in this setting, how their mutual attraction reaches a boiling point in that very specific scene...

And at that point, I just focused on preparing everything and setting the stage in order to tell the story of... how Sokka and Azula wound up locked inside a tight space together in Ba Sing Se's Palace X'D

For me, generating those core scenes is crucial for building a story that I can flow through with the right amount of motivation. I don't really know how other people do it, some people love writing stories without planning anything beforehand, and all the power to them if they can do that. I really prefer building things up towards the outcome I'm aiming for, though. At times, new elements come up in the middle of writing anyway, and you can be surprised by unexpected twists that actually bring new life to your story. You just have to let yourself ride the waves and figure out whether you'd rather choose your destination or let your story choose it for you, in a sense. But for me, setting at least some of the course is what seriously pushes me towards creating the story I want to write.

Gladiator-wise, the key has been this same principle, but in higher frequency. Basically, pretty much every arc I've written has one or multiple core scenes that I built up at the center of it all. Sometimes those core scenes could be very small and contained things... sometimes they could be something massive and chaotic. But I basically have pushed through Gladiator without breaking (even when things did get me down at times) because I had those highlights, important moments to look forward to that motivated me (and still motivate me, we're not done yet!) to keep going and push past the build-up that's necessary for everything that comes next.

... Alright, I hope that made sense X'D

As for Avatar Studios and its upcoming projects, as well as Hicks's next comic... I don't really have a lot to say on that front. I'm on a strict "live-and-let-die" policy with canon since North and South Part 1, pretty much, the last comic I ever read in full... because unless canon actually catches my attention and does things in a way I can respect/enjoy, I'm better off not engaging with it. As I mentioned in another ask not long ago, what really bothers me about the latest direction of this franchise is the lack of purpose in the stories they've been telling. Aang's story doesn't feel that way... but pretty much everything else does. Until I get the sense that they do have a direction and a purpose, I don't think I'm going to be overly concerned with whatever canon does. If I'm told Azula's comic is great, I'll definitely give it a read, but I don't hold out a ton of hope for my peace of mind, too. Better not to get excited only to be disappointed later on, as The Search taught me :'D I'd love it if Hicks can do a good job with the comic, of course, but I'm not passing judgment for or against it until it's out... and after it's out, I'll only pass judgment if I actually decide it sounds like something I want to read. Canon is free to do what it wishes to... I live very happily in my AUs and I have no need for canon validation to do what I do. So... that's my stance on that :'D

#anon #happy birthday to you too!#and I'm really glad you like my big crazy story #and for your question about my writing process #I probably ought to really get cracking on making a theory of scenes #or something #because I really don't know how to articulate what I mean when I talk about scene building ahahaha #but I just... feel it in my bones dang it #I have to figure it out and I will one day #I will...

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amistytown · 3 years

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The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf.

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao.

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to.

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together.

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest.

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him.

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #my writing

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