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watchmegetobsessed · 18 days

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WING IT

A/N: we are slowly getting more content, lets just hope something drops soon!

WORD COUNT: 3k

SUMMARY: It's your first day working in Selma's Home, you're nervous enough already, but when an emergency calls your boss away and you're left alone, the situation is topped when famous CEO Harry Styles casually strolls in.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It doesn’t matter that this job is just an in-between. Something that earns you money until your dream position opens. A first day is always stressful, especially when you have no idea what to do.

You were applying to dozens of jobs at once, just shooting everywhere you could, hoping to get an answer back before your rent was due. Selma’s Home was the first one to invite you for an interview and somehow, miraculously you even got the job despite the fact that you have no experience in retail. You suspect that desperation was a big factor in your hiring, because Selma lost 2 of her employees at once when the young couple that was working for her moved across the country.

Now here you are, walking into the store, nervously fidgeting with your fingers as you head down the aisles where you see Selma behind the cash register already getting ready to open.

“Hi!” you greet her, her head snapping up at your weak voice. Selma is such a fierce, kind of intimidating woman, but you can see how it helped her to open this store and make it one of the most successful home decor stores in the city, offering tasteful stylish pieces along with practical utility items for one’s home.

“Oh, hi! Welcome to your first day, you ready?” She even cracks a smile, but somehow it just makes you gulp hard.

“Yeah, readier than ever!” you manage to squeeze out a nervous chuckle, hoping she doesn’t sense your jitters.

“Alright, then let’s get started.”

With an hour until opening Selma is eager to squeeze in as much information into it as possible. She walks you through the store, talking about the most important items, but also handing you a handbook about everything that’s currently selling in the store.

“Use your downtime to roam around and you’ll learn them by the end of the week without the handbook,” she says, eyes running over the shelves as she is talking, already moving to the storage room in the back.

She talks about the system, how to unload the new arrivals every two weeks and then you move on to the cash register, aka your biggest fear. It’s quite the stress factor to deal with money, making sure everything is neat and correct, you can only hope you won’t mess it all up.

Then the store opens and you follow around Selma to learn the ropes. What’s different here is that whenever a customer comes in you offer them help right away and if needed, you assist them throughout their whole time shopping. There are quite some designer products selling and you’ll need to know everything about them to be able to sell them to the customers just like Selma does.

She is so good at it. No matter who comes in, she so effortlessly talks them into leaving with not only what they came for, but some more as well. She is enchanting, nice, open and warm and you just keep taking notes mentally, though you don’t feel confident enough to be as charming as she can be the moment the bell rings above the door.

When lunch rolls around you allow yourself to feel relieved for a second that you survived half the day already. Selma sends you to the back to have your lunch and you just sit in silence, staring ahead of you, mustering up all your energy for the rest of the workday. You’ve just finished your sandwich when Selma barges into the breakroom.

“Y/N, there’s a bit of an emergency.”

You jump to your feet, scenarios already running through your mind. Is there a fire? Did the storefront just collapse? Someone stole those hella expensive Japanese tablecloths?

“What happened?”

“My daughter, she is ugh! Such a menace, she got into trouble at school, so I have to go there. I need you to cover for a bit, just an hour tops, I swear!”

She is already grabbing her purse, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head, car keys in hand while you just stand there dumbfounded. Is she actually gonna leave you alone in the store on your first day?

“Selma, I-I don’t…”

“You do, Honey. Just an hour. This is a dead time anyway, if anyone comes in, just try your best to help them and ring them up at the end. Easy, I know you can do it!”

She is storming out and you follow her like a lost puppy.

“B-But what if I mess something up?” you ask, panic setting in.

“As long as you don’t set the store on fire, you’ll be fine. I trust you, Y/N!”

And with that, she is already gone, the bell rings above the door as you stand there like a statue.

You watch the storefront in pure panic, your stomach dropping every time it seems like someone is approaching the shop, but no one comes in.

Until the bell rings above the door.

For a split second you hope it’s Selma, but looking up you see a tall, broad figure and your heart threatens to burst right out of your anxiety filled chest, at first because hello! It’s a customer! But then as he steps further into the shop and takes off his sunglasses, realization settles in.

This is not just a regular customer, this is Harry Fucking Styles, CEO of Pleasing Productions, the studio that’s given the world the absolute best romantic movies in the past decades and the man is famously known for being a ladies favorite, but appearing as a total mystery in the media.

You’ve read about him a lot before, it’s hard not to bump into his name online, thanks to his looks he is always somehow in talk for either having dinner with a model, appearing on the red carpet looking like a fucking snack, or, your personaly favorite, declining giving an answer to a question regarding his private life.

And now he is standing there, looking around the store.

It takes a couple of moments for you to push out of this frozen state and finally step forward.

“Hello!”

Wow. Did your voice actually sound like that?

Clearing your throat you keep moving towards him.

“Hi, can I help you with anything?”

You try to rake your mind to remember everything you’ve seen and heard from Selma to use now, but the moment he looks up, your mind goes blank. He is just as beautiful as he looks in pictures or maybe even more. Unlike on those red carpet photos where he is always dressed in designer suits, now he is wearing a pair of simple pants and a gray long sleeve, his hair is a bit tousled and it appears he is growing his beard out, a bit shaggy, but he makes it look very… hot. That’s all you can say looking at him.

“Oh, hey!” He is sporting a polite smile as he looks up, about to keep talking, but he stops for a moment upon looking at you and he stops.

Everything stops.

It’s as if he is taking you in, you can feel your cheeks heating up, the nervous fidgeting starts again, but you hide your hands behind your back so he doesn’t notice.

“I’m looking for some kitchen stuff,” he then says, hiding his hands in his pockets.

“Great!” you breathe out. “We do have… those.”

You flinch internally, but ignore just how awkward you are in his presence.

You ask him about what he needs specifically as the two of you start walking down the isles and for a moment you think of grabbing the handbook, but that would look awful, so you make a decision on the spot.

You’re gonna just wing it.

What could go wrong? You’ll just pretend like you’re Selma, confident and know everything about the items, you’re gonna say whatever comes to your mind and just… wing it.

All while ignoring how attractive this man is up close. And intimidating. And charming. And…

“I think I want to check out the coffee stuff first,” he suggests and nodding you walk him over to the kitchen items.

“Do you have a coffee machine and you’re looking for some accessories, or…”

“I just got one of those old fashioned moka coffee pots,” he says with a boyish smile. “But I want to get that to the next level, if you know what I mean.” You do not.

“Of course,” you smile, eyes scanning over the shelves.

Your grandmother has one of those old moka coffee makers, but you have absolutely no idea what else could be used for those, so you just start grabbing things and making up what they are used for.

One after the other, you just keep showing him stuff with no idea what you’re talking about, but the longer you’re talking the more confident you’re growing, especially when he just keeps nodding and humming along to anything you say.

“So… which one are you more interested in?” you ask at the end of your little speech. You look at him and find him already looking at you with a tiny smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

“What can you tell me about those?” he asks, ignoring your question and just moving to another shelf.

He keeps asking about items and you just make up everything as you go. Of course, you know some of the stuff, but you were never really a true chef in the kitchen, so there are way too many items you don’t know that much, but somehow, you’ve gathered enough confidence that even you believe what you say.

Slowly, Harry fills his basket as you move through the store and every time you look at him you catch him already looking at you with the same smile you can’t quite decipher.

“What about those?” he points up at a set of plates on the top shelf.

“Oh, those are so pretty! Let me show you them!” you enthuse and run to grab the ladder from the back.

It’s not the steadiest tool for sure, but you ignore the wobble you feel when you start climbing it.

“Are you sure it’s–”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” you chuckle, reaching the top step, but your knees are definitely shaking. You focus on grabbing the plates and getting off as fast as possible, but right when you take them off the shelf you already feel yourself losing balance.

But Harry is quick to come to your rescue. One of his hands grabs the ladder to steady it and the other… the other one grabs the back of your thigh to help you hold yourself up. Until then you were shaking because of the ladder, but now it’s definitely because of his firm hold on you, the warmth of his touch and the thoughts that unrelease when you realize just how perfectly his fingers are digging into your flesh.

“You good?” he asks in a deep, husky voice.

“Yeah.” Your voice is barely more than just a whisper as you hold onto the plates as if they could hold you up.

You start moving down on the ladder, but Harry’s hand doesn’t leave your body, it works up on your hips and waist, grabbing onto your elbow as you finally step onto the ground and even then, he is still touching you, his eyes locked on yours as you’re still holding those damn plates. The image of dropping them and pushing up against him flashes through your mind and your knees wobble again when you catch his gaze flickering down to your lips for a second.

“The plates,” you blurt out then. He looks down and a smile stretches across his face.

“They really are pretty.”

“Right?” you let out a breathy laugh.

“Now that you risked your life for them, I guess it’s only fair if I actually buy them.”

Fuck, your heart is about to jump right out of your chest, how is he so smooth?

You gather a few more things and then move to the cash register to ring everything up.

“How long have you been working here?” he asks, patiently waiting for you to finish.

“Um… Do you want the truth?” you ask, with a cheeky smile.

“Yeah.”

“This is my first day,” you admit, just as you finish the scanning and when you look at the amount it all added up to, you almost choke on your own saliva. “Um, your total is 1630.”

For a moment you think he’ll question how it’s so much, but without hesitation he whips out his card and taps it on the terminal.

“First day, huh?”

“You wouldn’t have guessed?”

“Oh, I kind of did,” he chuckles and he starts to help you with putting everything away in bags. “You really should learn what the items are used for.”

Normally you’d be embarrassed that he noticed how much you just made up, but the smile he is gifting you with vanishes all negative feelings and you can actually find it funny.

“I will.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” he smirks, grabbing the bags from the counter. “And if I happen to leave a review about the excellent service, what name should I drop?”

“I’m Y/N,” you say with a sheepish smile. He then sticks his hand out and you take it.

“Harry. It was really nice meeting you.”

“You too.”

With a final wave he turns around, slides his sunglasses back to the bridge of his nose and then walks out of the store. You stand there completely overwhelmed by the experience and you have no idea how much time passes by before Selma barges through the door.

“Hi Darling! How did everything go?” she beams, walking up to the counter where you’re still standing.

“Great!”

“Did anyone come in?”

“Yeah. Harry Styles was just here.” Selma freezes for a moment before looking up at you.

“Harry Styles? As in…”

“Yeah. That Harry Styles.”

“How did it go? Did he buy anything?”

“He spent 1600 dollars on kitchen stuff.”

“Y/N, that’s great!” Selma claps her hands. “Was he satisfied? Could you help him?”

“I think I could,” you say with a knowing smile. “He seemed… satisfied, yeah.”

The first day jitters are luckily gone by the next day, especially because Selma looked at you with so much pride after you told her about your encounter with Harry that you feel like you can’t do anything wrong.

Before lunch Selma asks you to rearrange some stuff in the storage and you’re a bit relieved you don’t have to take any customers for now.

But because of that, you’re not out when one specific person walks into the shop. Again.

Harry enters the store confidently, a smile already on his lips as he looks in the direction of the cash register, but it fades when he only sees Selma, but no sight of you. Selma, on the other hand, becomes ecstatic when she sees and recognizes him.

“Welcome! How may I help you?” she chirps, walking towards Harry, who is still looking around, eyes searching for you.

“Hey, is the… Is the woman who worked yesterday here? Y/N?” Selma stops, surprised.

“Y/N? Uh, yes, but she is busy now, I’m sure I can help you–”

“I want her,” he states.

“She is still training, I’m sure I can–”

“Look,” Harry sighs. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Selma, the owner,” she states proudly.

“Selma, I’m more than happy to buy everything in this store if it means I get to talk to her. How does that sound?”

Selma stares back at him, finally understanding the situation. Her stance changes instantly.

“Let me go get her for you.”

You’re going over your list in the back when Selma appears, her spotless appearance feels odd in the storage room’s setting.

“Oh, hey! I just finished with–”

“I need you outside.”

“What? Why?” Panic washes over you, because you can’t read her face and what could she possibly need you for outside on your second day?

“Just come. Now!” She turns around and heads out, not even checking if you’re following her. Of course you do.

“Selma, what did I–” you start mumbling behind her, but just when you step out and spot Harry at the cash register.

His face lights up the moment he sees you and those damn butterflies start raging in your stomach.

“Harry, you’re here. Again,” you state the obvious.

“I am,” he chuckles and you see Selma walk away from the corner of your eyes.

“How, um–What can I… help you with?” you ask, clearing your throat. Why is he here? Could it be… because of you? Yesterday you definitely spent an awful lot of time daydreaming of the way he was touching you on that ladder and you’d be lying if you said you felt disappointed he just walked out, knowing you might never see him again.

Well, so much for that.

“I forgot to get something yesterday.”

“Oh,” is all you can say, the disappointment snaking back into your gut. He is not here because of you, how could you even think about that?

Harry’s smile widens as he watches your face drop and then he finally continues.

“Your number.”

Your eyes widen and you must look quite funny, because Harry chuckles at the sight of your expression.

“Was this too straight forward?”

“No!” you snap right away, maybe a bit too eagerly. “Not at all.”

“Great, then…”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it over, you type your number in quickly and hand it over. He taps on the screen and a second later your phone starts buzzing in your back pocket.

“Just checking you didn’t give me a pizzeria’s number,” he jokes, making you laugh. “And… now that I’m conveniently here, maybe you can show me some more stuff.”

“What do you need?” you ask as the two of you head down one of the aisles.

“Hmm, how long is your shift?”

“Um, another four hours,” you scoff.

“Then I guess I’m interested in everything. Whatever takes four hours to look at so I can take you out once you’re done.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

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whispereons · 9 months

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Oracle!Reader Part 17

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 16, Part 18

PSA: I'm going to go through my followers and report + block porn bots. Porn bots look like users who have nothing posted. So if you don't want to be blocked please put at least one post saying that you are human.

Warning! This has your good old violence! This is a SAGAU imposter au so this to be expected.

The ice in your calves throbbed as spikes of pain fried the nerves every time you shifted into a better position. That's not even counting how the arrow in your chest jostled and wedged deeper into your skin.

"Let's start with some easy questions, yeah? Like your name, date of birth, and occupation."

You wished Yelan would just ask the important questions only. It would make your life so much easier. Who knows what information you could give her here that unknowingly connects to what they know about the 'Creator'.

Yelan's expression turns neutral before she steps closer. Your body tenses in preparation before she grabs your hair to pull your head up. Hissing in pain, you glare at her with animosity.

"Don't overestimate your body, Y/N." She drawl's as if speaking to a child. "I could just remove this pretty little mask and bring you back to Liyue for those with... more experience to handle."

Was it a natural thing for Hydro users to threaten you with torture? The thought makes you wanna laugh but you gasp in pain instead as she releases your hair harshly.

You didn't have time to be a smartass. Your mask being removed was the worst thing that could happen. The only question was, should you admit to being an Oracle or not?

"My name, as you already know, is Y/N. I don't have a last name, or maybe I do and I don't remember it. Same situation with my birthday, I just celebrate it whenever I feel like it."

Genshin always sends you a gift in the mail when it's your birthday. It's a good guess that everyone knows your birthday, having the same birthday would be suspicious. What if it's like your face in which no one else can share the same birthday with you? Far-fetched but better safe than sorry.

"I'm an adventurer who signed up a few days ago. I have my handbook and commission list to prove it if you want to check."

There was a chance she knew about your Oracle job from when you had to stay at the Teahouse, but you won't offer that bit of information unless she specifically asks for it. Far too many of your own victims on Earth screwed themselves over when they revealed things only to learn you were shooting in the dark.

"Quite the convenient story. No last name or set date of birth means you must be from one of the villages. Name it."

Yelan gets comfortable resting against a tree as Shenhe stands close to you with a cold glare. The questions were still easy but you didn't want to be stuck here any longer. You needed an escape.

"I was born in Inazuma, one of the less-tamed islands called Kannzaku. But after the recent war, all the people that were still living either died or left. I chose to leave as well."

Yelan hums at that, you aren't sure if she truly believes it or if she's just making a mental note to look into it later.

"Then how did you manage to catch the Alcor of all ships to bring you here? They aren't one to take passengers along easily."

Has she been watching that early on or did she trace your path that far back? If so, she may even gain information about your time in Inazuma. Best to keep everything aligned with the most public knowledge.

"The Yashiro Commission helped me find a ship. I don't see how my upbringing in Inazuma has to do with whatever reason you have for attacking me."

Flexing your feet, you try to adapt to the pain. Yelan nor Shenhe were going to let you go even if you did answer everything correctly. That was a fact just based on how much trouble you gave them.

Yelan keeps a watchful eye on you as she stays silent. You know this tactic, you've used it before. Staying silent to make your hostage squirm and anger till they burst. That, or slowly die in place from any wounds.

This wasn't a problem for you. Every second you stood there in silence was just more and more time for you to get used to the pain. The arrow was too deep to remove, you would bleed out and become weaker so it'll have to stay stuck inside your skin.

Yelan and you could have gone all day, but Shenhe wasn't nearly as patient or stubborn.

"Ask your question and finish your job already, Yelan. If you take any longer then I'll just exterminate them." Shenhe moves to stand directly in front of you with her weapon raised.

She points it directly at Yelan. "And if you try to stop me, I'll kill you too."

Seems they aren't as in sync as you originally thought.

Yelan sighs and moves from her spot. It seems even she knows better than to trifle with the bomb in the shape of a crane. The grass crunches beneath Yelan's heels as the trinkets on her jingle.

Lifelines wrap around your wrists and waist and she pulls you forward. Nails dig into your skin through her gloves making you bite your tongue in slight pain. The pretty azure color is coated with crimson as emerald eyes stare into your soul.

"What's giving you the confidence to claim to be the Creator's oracle? If you don't repent and shed this flimsy mask, the Qixing will have you sacrificed in the city's center."

Your heart stops at those words as flashes of the sacrifices you witnessed in Inazuma come to mind. Taking off your mask would get you killed, but not taking it off would also get you killed. Torn between laughing and crying, you hated the fact that once again you were stuck in a ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ situation.

Frowning at the strange expression on your face and the lack of confession, Yelan sighs with frustration and even a bit of hatred. “Not willing to speak even now, huh? Then my job is nearly done. Ningguang can deal with you instead, I’ll just reap my share of the rewards after you die.”

Patting your now bloody cheek condescendingly, she turns away from you. Her lips can be seen moving from her side profile but you could care less about what she's saying.

All you can focus on is the feeling of being talked down to. Being treated like a child, being treated like an idiot. The inner lining of your cheek begins to ache from how hard you're biting on it.

Specific personas you've created and used in your work would include ditzy and dumb acts. The patronizing tone they would speak to you with was annoying but tolerable. But this? This?!

Lips curled into a snarl, you look up at the woman with a boiling glare matching your equally hot temper. Yelan's features seem to continuously morph and switch with a man who would speak to you in that exact same demeaning way.

"Where the hell do you get off speaking to me like this?"

Yelan shuts her mouth but doesn't move her snobbish eyes off your form. Shenhe holds her polearm tighter as she keeps her eyes on you. Well aware of just how stupid, rash, and careless your next actions are, your brain tries to calm down.

But the moment you lift your bloody chin to look up, all you can see is condescending eyes taunting you.

"What the fuck is giving YOU the confidence to indirectly call yourself extraordinary by calling your deceased teammates 'ordinary folk'?! You only got to your position from the charity and sacrifices of other people!"

Breathing heavily from the anger and strain from yelling, you wipe the blood on your chin away. You were giving it your all to survive and weasel your way out of this situation. That's what you have done all throughout your time in Teyvat.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, it shouldn't be possible that all your efforts would be for naught from just one person. Everything you've worked at all this time, gone, just because Yelan and Ningguang couldn't mind their own fucking business.

"You can inflate your ego all you want with clever schemes and working solo but that doesn't take away from the fact that you would be dead without everyone around you. Your ancestry of heroes, Ningguang's patience and willingness to wait for you to train and move on from your friend. Even the lessons you learned on how you aren't invincible didn't seem to click until you lost your whole team!"

Grinning widely with malice and blood staining your teeth and lips crimson, you finished your jab. "You know? The same team you basically disowned and dissociated yourself from after they died. After all, you’d rather isolate yourself instead of properly acknowledging your team's talent and appreciate the life they lived no matter how short!"

Your mouth felt dry and all you could taste was copper. The shards in your calves were slowly melting making your legs. A vast contrast to the burning anger you harbored. But it seems you aren't the only one feeling this way.

Yelan hasn't moved from her spot but the look she has on her face is clear as day. Her neutral and taunting smile has dissolved into a murderous expression. Viridian eyes sharpen almost like an arrow and gritted teeth grind together. Your blood stains her blue gloves much like how you successfully stained her invincible reputation.

As good as it felt to get back at her, the slightest bit of guilt plagued you. That blow concerning her teammates was low, even if it was true. It's a bitter truth that she probably still struggles with. Living knowing that someone had to be sacrificed for your life pushed you to the brink more than once. Even still, you can't find it in yourself to take back those words, to apologize.

After all, you could never disregard the help and place your dad had in your life even with his early death.

The Hydro vision on Yelan's side glows as she takes long strides to your trapped form. No longer summoning her bow with flair, she points it at you. Bracing yourself with bent knees, you flex your fingers preparing to summon your sickle and escape the disadvantageous position.

"GRAH!"

A huge leaping rocky creature almost flattens Yelan who swiftly dodges by jumping backward.

"GRAW!" What you can now identify as a Geovishap roars loudly and slams his hulking fist onto the ground. The impact sends Yelan flying through the air and the ice trapping your feet shatters.

Not even allowed a second to enjoy your newfound freedom, Shenhe lunges either polearm poised at the ready. Grinning, your sickle clashes with her weapon as you shift to a more comfortable position.

Fighting both women would be impossible for you, they've trained for years. But it was still within your limits to defend and escape from one. Thanks to the Geovishap, you now have been granted that possibility.

The lingering shards of ice in your calves keep the blood somewhat clogged but the blood dribbling out down your ankle is uncomfortable. Ignoring it to the best of your abilities, you dig your shoes into the ground as your sickle repeatedly blocks her attacks.

The spear's minor side curve gets hooked onto your sickle leading to a stand-off. Planting your feet deeper into the ground, you focus on pushing against Shenhe as she does the same. Your arm strains with the force needed as Shenhe's full power begins to overpower you.

Not that you weren't expecting that.

Shenhe fought a god as a child and would have won if Cloud Retainer hadn't cut it short. She grew up in these mountains fighting, training, and eating whatever she was given. Cloud Retainer didn't raise a child, she groomed a soldier.

Your wounds ache as your body is pushed back. Inhuman strength wasn't something you ever encountered on Earth. This wasn't the city where you could pull a dirty trick and get away. Wasn't there anything else you could do?

Perhaps it was the determination you felt to stand your ground. Or maybe it was the desperation you felt to escape and live. You couldn't be completely sure as power mingled with your flesh, giving you a burst of energy.

The air grows cold and the ground shakes beneath your feet. The Electro wrapping around your sickle crackles louder, nearly masking the creaking of the ground. Geo petrifies the ground as it travels from your feet to hers.

A dark umber-colored stone traps her feet with cracks of topaz. Shenhe frowns and tries to rip her feet out but is stunned when it doesn't work. The petrify only moves to consume her body faster.

Knowing that you must be the only reason for the Geo, you take advantage of the newfound power. Breaking the grapple, you move out of her polearms range. Her braids loosen as she tries to lunge at you even with her torso completely petrified.

In some last-ditch effort to kill you, Shenhe holds her polearm in one hand and prepares to throw it at you. Not a moment sooner, the petrify entraps that hand locking it in place.

"Don't run away, demon!" Shenhe shouts in fury as her braid loosens. Her face is permanently etched as a harsh scowl and furrowed brows when the Geo overcomes her completely.

Not wanting to waste the precious and limited time you have, you turn on your heels and run away. In a split decision, you run to the left, the same direction where you first met Shenhe at that hilichurl camp.

Greenery and foliage are trampled on as you push past the burning pain. You pass the threshold of the stone and a large thud catches your attention from behind you.

Curious, you look back to see the Geovishap be pierced by Hydro projectiles. The blood and water splatter and mix on the ground as the Geovishap collapses. A weak gurgle of a roar is all that could be heard.

Glazed eyes holding no consciousness, no life, stare at your wide, sympathetic ones before crumbling into dust. A different pair of wrathful green eyes stare back at you instead.

There's no time to teleport. You couldn't fight in this state. Running was your sole option and your body moved on its own.

The river water dampens your shoes as you run, and the moonlight filters through the leaves of the trees above you. Slimes peer at you curiously as you avoid running into them.

The only thing you could properly focus on was not tripping and not getting hit by the arrows raining down on you.

Between your honed instincts and Teyvat’s warnings, you manage to dodge the vast majority. Yelan wasn't in the position she is today without mastering her archery.

Pain and most likely a bruise bloom when her Hydro-infused arrow hits your shoulder. It's not deep so you quickly pull it out before it gets lodged like the one in your chest.

The chase is intense as your ragged breaths nearly mask the sound of her heels following you. More arrows cut your clothes and graze your skin.

The sight of the red staining the cloth makes bitterness spread and fester deep within you.

Just why couldn't you bleed gold?

Now in Nantianmen, you pass by the hilichurl camp where you met Shenhe in. You must be getting closer to the ruins, maybe you could lose Yelan in the twists and turns of the rundown ruins.

But that plan quickly is thrown out the window when the only exit is a large drop-off, small broken ruins with broken ruin pieces serving as platforms on the large river. Treasure hoarders roam that area from what you remember.

To your right is a large mountain, climbable but no doubt time-consuming. On the left is where the ledge is. The only thing in front of you is a path leading to a boss, that you can’t be certain would recognize you or not. And above it would just be another cliff only serving to prolong the chase.

Faced with the choice, the shallow water washes the crusting blood off your legs. Climb the mountain and be shot down by Yelan, or glide off the edge into Tianqiu Valley and be shot down by Yelan or the treasure hoarders.

Aren’t you spoiled for choice?

That sarcastic thought is quickly swept away as you narrowly avoid an arrow that hits the water. Only sparing a glance behind you, you move to the side avoiding the follow-up arrow. The click of Yelan’s heels is replaced with the sloshing of water as she runs after you.

She dodges the Cryo that a large Cryo slime shoots at her as you back away with urgency. Before you can make a panicked split decision, a new Geovishap tackles her right into the Cryo slime.

The combo of being frozen and shattered seems to knock the wind out of Yelan as she falls onto the ground and slowly rises to her feet. The Cryo slimes, now with the addition of another that popped up out of nowhere and this new Geovishap, form a circle around Yelan.

The circle is tight and her soaked form only hinders her further. The wounds and bruises she sustained from the previous Geovishap are still visible.

You recognize this as an opportunity to escape.

The sound of Yelan’s grunts and groans of pain as she’s thrown around out of sight are washed away as you pull the game screen up. It loads slowly but you aren’t too worried, Yelan is spent after chasing you and fighting so much today.

Once the map is loaded, you quickly swipe to the statue of the seven. Selecting it you press the teleport button and wait. You wait with bated breath and expectant eyes to finally be free of this whole battle. Yet, as the screen stays the same and a whole minute passes by with no response, your heart pounds with fear.

Trying to deny the worst possibility you press the teleport button again. You press it again and again and again with no results. The sounds of the Cryo slimes being splattered onto the ground make you suck in a harsh breath.

In one last desperate attempt, you close the game screen and open it again. Repeating the same actions before with no difference in the result.

It’s refusing to work.

That revelation fills you with a mix of dread and a manic mess of anger combined with sadness. A disbelieving laugh escapes your mouth in a low tone before you sprint towards the closest escape option. There’s no more time to waste, the petrify is going or already has worn off and Yelan won’t be occupied with that Geovishap forever.

Your scratched-up and coarse fingers haphazardly grasp the grooves of the mountain to climb as fast as possible. It’s painful to put your body weight onto your legs but it must be done. That pain is almost completely blinded by the agonizing burn of when the arrow in your chest is pushed further in whenever you accidentally scrape the wall.

The air becomes thinner as you climb to the halfway point, your digits grasp onto the next protruding rock and it’s too late when you realize that it’s too loose. The rock slips out, hitting your face and temporarily blinding you as your other grip becomes weaker.

Dangerously swaying backward, you stop breathing and scramble to hold on to something. When your cut-up fingers finally grasp something more stable, your face hits the rock and it makes the blood from the wounds Yelan’s nails left leave a splotch.

Pain and sharp aches rack your body but you grit your teeth and continue climbing. The mountain seems to almost vibrate and you look down to see Yelan be smashed onto the wall. A thrilling chill of happiness runs down your spine at the sight of Yelan getting pummelled. You can only hope it scars her the way her injuries most likely will scar you.

The struggle is finally over as your fingers dig into the grass at the top and haul yourself over the ledge. Crawling with the last bit of your strength, you lay on your back and breathe in as much of the thin air as you can. Sharp and burning pain electrifies your nerves as you stare up at the night sky.

Just how shitty was your luck to end up like this?

Gingerly touching your head as the world briefly spins, you open the game screen. Maybe, just maybe it will work now that you are away from the battle. Perhaps it didn’t let you teleport in some stupid rule of ‘no teleporting when enemies are nearby’ or ‘you can’t teleport in battle’. You are well aware that Genshin never had that rule but you wanted to hold onto some hope.

Of course, it doesn’t work. Hope at the end of the day is just that. But being away from a life-or-death situation at least brings back some clarity of mind. You select a different teleport waypoint and try to teleport. It doesn’t work, and after trying nearly all of the waypoints you close the screen and groan in frustration.

You close your eyes and just try to breathe, to relax your heart that just won’t stop beating frantically. It becomes suspicious when your blood runs cold and your stomach churns in a familiar feeling of danger. With anxiety-fueled fear, you roll your aching body a few feet away as the wind caresses your skin trying to help you.

Dirt and grime cling onto your clothes and make your open wounds itch as it enters your body. But your attention is pulled away by a polearm piercing the spot you were lying at just a moment ago. Frantic yet oh so tired, you pull yourself onto your sore feet and stare warily as the cloud of dirt dispenses.

As much as you dared to dream that maybe it was Xiao, the long white hair and crane-patterned sleeves aren’t surprising. Disappointing nonetheless though.

Shenhe grips her weapon tightly as she stays in place, the rock she struck in pieces beneath her. You can already imagine what kind of damage she would have done if you didn’t move away in time. She doesn’t lift her head as she mumbles something.

Not willing to move closer but also too cautious to move away in fear of triggering her, you stand in place. Her head lifts up to let iridescent eyes glare at your beat-up and bleeding body. “I hate you.” She mutters as strands of hair droop to frame her face.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate-” She mutters endlessly from her position as you begin to take slow steps backward. The red rope tying her hair is already gone and the ones on her clothing are close to slipping. Most of them are ripped and gone anyway.

Shenhe harshly rips the last of the red rope off and gracefully twirls her polearm into the correct position with a look cold enough to freeze your blood. Actually, that’s just the frost creeping from her feet…

“I hate you!” Shenhe’s yell is swift and her weapon is merciless as her attack pattern changes from the elegant crane style to one more comparable to a raging bull. You hurriedly summon your sickle in the nick of time.

Your hands are shaky from the exhaustion weighing down on your body. Combining that with Shenhe’s erratic wrath attacks makes your movements clumsy.

Each narrowly raised block and shaking deflection eat away at the little energy you have left.

It's not enough.

That fact becomes more and more obvious as your grip on the sickle gets weaker. What other fate awaited you when being hunted down by Shenhe who has fought and trained nearly all her life?

The past battles you've been through are viewed in a new light. Your first fight with those treasure hoarders led you to rely more on your wit than skill. The first Fatui encounter with Heizou had you more as a support than an attacker. Beisht wasn’t even attacking you and you struggled against the elements more than anything else on Beidou’s ship. After taking the commission to save Yiran from the kidnappers, you teamed up with Xingqiu and Chongyun for every battle after that.

Even afterward when you were forcibly separated and Cloud Retainer strangled you, it was the other Adepti that pulled her off. The only battles after that were your hit-and-runs with Yelan and Shenhe. Have you ever actually fought and won on your own since that first scuffle with the treasure hoarders? They even ran away after you threatened them without touching them!

The realization of your less-than-stellar fighting capacity makes your movements sloppier, your body feels heavy with the weight of your journey. All the injuries you sustained, even the ones already healed, seem to chip away at your resolve.

You were tired. You’ve been tired for a long time. It would be accurate to say that you were tired of being tired.

Shenhe’s emotions bleed through her fighting style, the wrath she’s consumed by makes her attacks rough but misaligned. Slices that should have cut deep into your shoulder or slashes across your unguarded areas miss their mark. Each one only makes her more aggravated leading to even sloppier motions.

A terrible cycle that was helping you out enough that you use your new Geo power to petrify her feet. But Shenhe has already experienced this, her spear is waved erratically around her keeping you away.

This rare chance of escape isn’t lost on you, turning on your heels you book it and narrowly avoid the polearm thrown your way. The graze makes the already scraped side bleed heavier, and the burning feeling of pain doesn’t subside.

Running across the greenery and leaving a trail of dotted red on the dark grass, you don’t bother trying to recall where you might be. There was never much of a reason to climb all the way up here as a player and you had no time to stop to observe the map.

The rocks, trees, and flowers blur in a shadowy hazy mess. You can’t be sure whether it's from all the blood you lost, the pain that plagues your body or the starless night sky. A single rock jutted out of the rock trips you and the pain blinds you as you lay on the ground.

Stumbling back onto your feet, you hold a nearby branch with a death grip as your body sways and your vision spins. This intense lightheadedness could only be from blood loss, one would think that it’s a shame how easily you can tell blood loss apart from any other injury it might be.

The sound of water splashing catches your attention and you do your best to follow it quickly without any more falls. The toll of the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins is starting to settle and you know full well how nasty it can be. A small lake appears in your vision and you collapse onto your knees once close enough.

A group of Cryo slimes begin to make their way towards you from the middle of the lake, or maybe it was Hydro slimes? The wind is both sweet relief on your clammy skin and a rude reminder of your aching wounds. Crawling to the side where you can only hope that Shenhe won’t find you as easily, you let your bag fall off your shoulders.

The bag has holes but as it’s not a normal bag, nothing has fallen out. To your immense relief, of course, the medkit you pull out is your only hope of surviving just a little longer. The slimes gather around you curiously, even this close the only thing you can be sure of is their blue coloring.

Ignoring them, you apply the disinfectant, ointment, bandages, and anything else that might help you with your numerous injuries. Most of them were bandaged fine with you skipping the minor wounds to not waste your precious resources, but it was the major two damages that you couldn’t touch.

The remainder of the ice spikes in your calves were slowly melting which, unfortunately, was only leading to more bleeding. The arrow in your chest already made breathing hurt like hell. There was no way you were gonna risk yanking either of the two out. With the bleeding slowed down, your body feels a bit better but the fatigue anchors you to your spot.

Surrounded by the slimes and gently showered by the moonlight your head rests against the closest solid structure. Thoughts of what kind of disease, danger, and death you might experience are washed away. The rippling reflection of the moon on the lake lulls your mind into a haze. Eyelids fluttering shut, you can no longer resist the urge to just rest...

Oh boy, finally done and over with. It actually had more but I decided to cut it here and post the rest with the other parts next chapter. It may be shorter than this one. Or not, who knows. Thanks to my patient editor @serpent-benediction who edited this today. I hope everyone enjoyed the differences yet similarities between Y/N and Yelan. I did write this on Google Docs rather than on Tumblr so maybe the format is weird. Tell me if this one is too dense looking or any other opinion on it. Edit* Guess which dumbass forgot to add the read more option? Taglist - Remember those that are in italics are those who I couldn't tag! I appreciate all the comments and reblogs! Ya'll can be so funny and sweet at the same time. @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100

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steddieasitgoes · 6 months

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@steddiemas Day 5 Prompt: Grinch vs Christmas Cheer

Tags: Modern AU, Eddie Munson & Jeff, Steve & Eddie Are Neighbors, Teacher Steve, Meet Cute

wc: 1863 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“I thought you said you talked to them?” Eddie groans. He tips his head so far back he wobbles in the chair for a moment before he rights himself and buries his head in his hands. “I can’t work under these conditions!”

“I don’t think planning a campaign counts as working,” Jeff teases.

They’re in their apartment kitchen. Jeff cooking something that smells a hundred times better than the vending machine sandwich he had for lunch at the shop. Free from his day job, Eddie’s working on something he actually cares about now. The latest Dungeons & Dragons handbook is open to a random page while his trusty notebook sits open. There’s no use in hiding it from Jeff. It’s not like he could decipher Eddie’s chicken scratch penmanship anyway.

Besides, he hasn’t gotten much of anything done since he plopped down on the worn leather chair. It’s hard to work with the blaring sound of Mariah fucking Carey’s Christmas album playing on repeat for the third day straight coming from their neighbor's apartment. The obnoxious whirling of the fans keeping a dozen or so Christmas inflatables blown up on their shared stairwell and balcony also doesn’t help.

If this continues any longer, Eddie swears he’s going to find them a new place to live. The peace and quiet would be worth losing out on their rent-controlled place. At least, Eddie thinks so. Christ, he misses the Richards who moved last year. He’d take their scowls and snide comments over this Christmas madness any day.

“It absolutely counts as working,” Eddie scoffs, shooting a glare in Jeff’s direction. “And don’t change the subject, Jefferson. Did you even talk to Mr. and Mrs. Claus next door?”

Jeff snorts, shaking his head before returning to the pot of sauce he has simmering. “No, I didn’t and I’m not going to.”

“Jeff!” Eddie whines. “Your job as the approachable one of this house is to confront our neighbors when they’re annoying us.”

“Okay, but they’re not annoying me.”

“Well, that’s a lie. You hate Michael Buble as much as I do and I know you heard his stupid crooning voice at seven this morning like I did.”

“Okay, you’ve got me there,” Jeff sighs, turning away from the stove to face Eddie. “But I can’t tell them to lower their music! Not when they haven’t complained once about the shit you blare at all hours of the night or our Corroded practices when we have nowhere else to go.”

If Eddie was less stubborn, maybe he’d see that Jeff has a point. But he is stubborn, so he doubles down instead.

“That’s different.”

“It’s really not.”

“Fine,” Eddie shouts, throwing his hands up in defeat. The headache festering behind is eyes is too painful for him to keep arguing with Jeff. Besides, he’s never been able to push Jeff around. It’s why they make such good roommates. “Can you at least talk to them about their decorating habits then? I had to wade through a fucking forest of inflatables this afternoon. M’pretty sure Frosty the fucking Snowman almost punched my balls.”

“Eds, need I remind you that a few days ago you had the entire place decked out for Halloween? How is a few inflatables different than all those skeletons and demon shit you had up?”

“First of all, how dare you compare my artistry to whatever is going on outside,” Eddie scoffs. He’s going to give himself a sore throat if he keeps this up. “I have taste. My decorations told a story! Those inflatables aren’t even from the same properties. They’ve got Santa Mickey next to the fucking Grinch! Charlie Brown mingling with Yoda! There’s no plot!”

Jeff’s shoulders slump, forearms coming to rest on the kitchen counter so he’s at eye level with Eddie. “Just look on the bright side. At least they haven’t done one of those obnoxious light shows like that stupid reality show.”

As if Jeff accidentally summoned a demon in the form of Christmas cheer, a burst of red and green floods their apartment. Their once dimly lit kitchen looks like the inside of a club, red and green lights flickering with the occasional white and blue mixed in. The flickers are timed with the beat of another Mariah Carey Christmas song.

This is what hell must look like, Eddie thinks, as he glares at Jeff.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Jeff defends, hands up in surrender.

Eddie can seem him struggling not to laugh and it takes all the energy he can muster not to reach around the counter and playfully punch his shoulder. How can Jeff think this is funny? The flickering lights completely goes against their moody aesthetic! Not to mention it’s a health hazard! There’s no way Gareth is going to be able to come over here — not with the way he’s so sensitive to strobes.

Jesus H. Christ and it’s only November 25th! He has to put up with this for weeks!

“It’s not funny, Jefferson!”

“I mean,” Jeff snorts, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from growing. “It’s a little funny.”

🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬

The lights have not fucking stopped. Not for one single day. Eddie had hoped his neighbors would have grown tired of the constant strobing and Christmas music by now. But nope. A week and a half and its still going strong.

He’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

“Jeff,” Eddie hisses, lifting the blanket of his makeshift fort enough that he can make eye contact with Jeff. Or at least, try to. Jeff’s perched in their recliner with the biggest pair of sunglasses Eddie’s ever seen. “Please. I can’t take much more of this!”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I might have believed you if you weren’t wearing those ridiculous things,” Eddie snorts. He waits for Jeff to retort but when he doesn’t, he groans and slowly emerges from the safety of his blanket fort. Christ he forgot how bright those damn things are.

Stalking over to their small entryway, Eddie hastily tugs on a pair of boots and reaches for the doorknob.

“What are you doing?” Jeff asks, voice laden with concern.

“Someone has to confront the neighbors!”

He doesn't give him time to respond, yanking the door open and slamming it shut behind him in one fluid movement. It should be a short trip to the neighbor's front door, just a few long strides, but Eddie forgets to account for the fuckton of inflatables cluttering the path. He ducks around Frosty, flipping him off when his stupid wood arms nearly deck his balls, again and forcibly shoves Mickey’s face away from him.

It takes another bit of carefully navigating before he finally reaches the front door adorned with a festive wreath. These people really left no spot undecorated. Eddie doesn’t spare them the decency of a nice, neighborly knock or ring of the doorbell. They’re way past that. Instead, he makes a fist and slams his knuckles into the wood door, and keeps going. Knock. Knock. Knockknockknock.

They probably can’t hear him over the damn music, Eddie thinks, as his knuckle turns redder and redder. Just when he’s about to retreat and face Jeff’s smug wrath, the door opens.

The first thought that passes through Eddie’s mind is oh, he’s hot. The second, more vital thought, comes a moment later. He’s going to kill Jeff. How dare he not disclose how attractive this guy is the minute he met him months ago?

The guy, who Eddie vaguely thinks is named Steve, looks just as surprised to see him as he is. Decked out in an obnoxious Santa-themed apron and green plaid flannel pants, his cheeks are spotted with flour and his hands are stained a faint red color. Judging from the delicious aroma of vanilla and peanut butter wafting into the hallway, Eddie interrupted some very serious baking.

“Oh, you’re not the Instacart shopper,” maybe Steve frowns. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, uh,” Eddie trails off. He’s here for a reason, he knows this, but his mind is blank. Distracted by the smells and the lights and the gorgeous fucking man standing in front of him with hazel eyes so sparkly Eddie’s pretty sure he belongs in a cartoon. “I’m Eddie, your neighbor.”

I’m Eddie, your neighbor?

This cannot be the same brain that creates intricate, plot twist-ridden campaigns that last months. Absolutely not.

“Ah, so you’re Jeff’s roommate! It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Steve.”

“Right, Steve” Eddie nods. He’s not sure why he nods, it’s not a normal thing to do when you meet someone, and yet, he can’t stop nodding. Stop fucking nodding!

“So, uh, what brings you by?” Steve asks, casually leaning against the doorframe.

“Oh, I uh…” The lights. You were coming here to complain about the lights! “I came to tell you, uh… I could smell you baking!” Oh my fucking god. “You know these walls are thin and we, uh, share AC vents or something I think? So the smell was filling our place and it smelled so good I just, uh, had to come over and see what you’re baking?”

If Jeff was here, Eddie’s pretty sure he’d be two seconds away from collapsing in a fit of laughter. Thank god he’s not. As soon as he gets back to his room, he’s going to take a lukewarm shower and try to forget this entire interaction ever happened and then hide from Steve for the rest of his life.

“Oh, I’m making peanut butter cookies.” Steve’s smile is almost as blinding as the twinkling lights and like a moth to a flame, Eddie can’t look away. “One of my students has been having a rough time and they’re their favorite.”

“Damn, maybe if I had a teacher who baked me cookies I would have done better in school.”

Steve laughs, “Tell me about it. Actually, uh, do you want to help? I’m allergic to peanut butter and my best friend is tied up at work. I could really use a taste tester. Make sure they’re edible.”

“Oh, uh…” Eddie glances over his shoulder and takes in the sight of the sea of inflatables staring at him with their beady painted on eyes, squints at the obnoxious flashing lights keeping time to a terrible cover of “Jingle Bell Rock.” Together it’s the reminder he needs as to why he trekked over here in the first place, but when he turns he’s hit with a punch of peanut butter and well… “Not to toot my own horn, but I am a pretty good taste tester.”

“Perfect,” Steve smiles, pushing himself off the doorframe. “Kitchen’s this way.”

🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬 🎅🏼 🎄 🤬

Eddie returns an hour later. Belly full of joy just peanut butter cookies, but also chocolate chip, and gingerbread, and some cinnamon concoction that had him considering a marriage proposal on the spot and a tupperware overflowing with said cookies.

Jeff is still in the living room, sunglasses shielding his eyes, but Eddie knows him well enough to know he’s judging him.

“Don’t say a word,” Eddie sneers, heading straight for the kitchen.

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie fan fic #steddie fluff #steddie meet cute #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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wearesorcerer · 1 year

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This could potentially be big. Screenshots from someone in a Facebook group providing his professionally-affected opinion:

Basically, if any of this is true, you could expect Paizo et al to sue WotC/Hasbro. I would love to see that happen, personally, but it all depends on how likely any of the above actually is to work. Like, if 5.5/6e turns out to be as crappy as 4e was, this will just be WotC shooting itself in the foot again (though probably not enough to kill it). So far, I've only heard good things mechanically and bad things for the playerbase, but they have all been vague suggestions with no concrete details.

A Concrete Example

The Hypertext d20 SRD was constructed under 3.5 as exactly what its name suggests: a self-interlinked reference document for everything in the system. Prior to its existence, the SRD was a collection of (possibly rich) text documents without page numbers or other means of easy reference. The Hypertext SRD included all OGL material from print sources it could find, so includes ~85% of the Player's Handbook, Dungeon Master's Guide, Monster Manual, Expanded Psionics Handbook, Epic Level Handbook, Arcana Unearthed, and some bits from Deities & Demigods. It has other useful tools, like an encounter calculator and spell search. For the longest time, it was the only thing like it. Other sites (DnD Tools, Forgotten Realms Helps) eventually sprang up with more content; DnD Tools has been taken down numerous times for violating the OGL, while Realms Helps has stayed under the radar for some reason.

At some point, the d20srd webmaster updated it to include Pathfinder (seemingly all, but arranged by book like how Paizo's PRD was, which is deeply unhelpful) and some 5e (limited entirely to the core three books). This was long after d20pfsrd launched; that site is modeled off of the 3.5 d20srd site in organization and is amazeballs.

Since this webmaster has published 5e material on this site and since the new OGL possibly interprets that as accepting its terms, if this new OGL were legal, he could be sued to take down his entire site (or at least the perennially helpful portions) because it is no longer valid. (Per the screenshots, this is only half hypothetical: I know WotC did do this when 4e came out to fanpages that had 3.5 and 4e material because they didn't want competition from their own product.) This would leave only unauthorized (DnD Tools) or status unclear (Forgotten Realms Helps) archives. We've already lost reams of 3.5 material because WotC deleted its 3rd ed. archives (they used to publish stuff online regularly).

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jojotichakorn · 4 months

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did he buy vegas's handbook to villainy? he really said "where should i shoot first? the head, the chest, or the heart?"

#pit babe the series #archer watches pit babe #pit babe: finale

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olderthannetfic · 9 months

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One of my biggest shames, is that I never learnt grammar, punctuation, or when to set commas. In 1st to 2nd grade I was excluded heavily by my teacher. Then I changed schools and was given books for 1st to 3rd graders, while being in 4th-5th grade. I had gone through those during the 2nd-3rd year at the school, but just got a new version. When I got into another new school, they were already done with those subjects. No I have no learning disability, nor do I have any other issues that would have justified it. I guess that's what happens when you and 3 other kids are the only ones with a background as 1st gen diaspora, even if we've been here basically since birth. Besides all that, I also still heavily struggle with that language, and I never managed to catch up, no matter how much I tried. General grammar and sentence structure is a bust, and no matter how I asked there was nothing they could (or wanted) to do. Here there's a rule that "If you've lived here for 6 years and are above a certain age, you can no longer request language specific help." Even if it's to catch up.

Oh, I didn't learn shit about punctuation in school despite going to pretty good ones overall.

I learned as an adult from:

Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation and

The Transitive Vampire: a Handbook of Grammar for the Innocent, the Eager, and the Doomed.

The author of the latter also has a punctuation book, The Well-Tempered Sentence.

I cannot begin to tell you how many people learned this stuff from Eats, Shoots & Leaves specifically and not from school.

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 3 months

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DO U EVER THINK ABIUT GENDERBENT 141??? because I'm sorry I'm queer as hell and au where everything is the same but Ghost is the most handsome butch woman to ever walk the earth?!?!?!? Barkbarkbarkbark

OR EVEN BETTER.... FEM GHOST AND REGULAR GHOST MY BI ASS GETTING SQWUISHED BETWEEN THEM 🫠🫠🫠

Man I am FERAL 2day

-🔪

Have I ever thought of Genderbent 141? UH??? YES??? EVERY DAY???? (never shared it before, but I 100% have thought about it)

Genderbent! 141

Simone Riley who’s ginormous for a woman, just as tall as half of the men around her, and with shoulders just as wide. Wears her hair in a crew cut (just like her male counterpart) because she gets hot around the neck and irritated with hair in her eyes if she tries to grow it out any longer, and she cannot be arsed to untie and retie her hair if she’s in a hurry to shoot a terrorist! Unironically uses her sports bra as a place to conceal MORE weapons. Do you know how many foldable knives she has hidden in her bra cups? Don’t ask, she won’t tell you. Never wears heels because she hates it and it’s just not her style, she’s a butch through and through.

Jane Price who surprisingly strikes SO much fear in recruits by being polite, understanding and a surprisingly calm leader because they KNOW that a woman that polite can’t survive/be taken seriously in the military unless she’s deadly efficient and ready to crush someone under her boot at the slightest provocation… Her hair is fairly long but she wears it tied in the military regulation bun that’s SO slicked back and tight it’s no wonder she has a permanent headache. Yes she wears the boonie hat all the time.

Kylie Garrick is pretty girl (just like Kyle is pretty boy). She has the PRETTIEST neatest cornrows and wears them in a bun because it’s convenient for work, plus it lets her still wear her beloved baseball cap!!!! She read the handbook cover-to-cover to know what’s allowed and what isn’t and knows exactly what she can get away with style wise. Watch her wear stud earrings of all colors and tinted lipbalm to skate by the ‘no makeup’ rules.

Johanna MacTavish is short but BEEFY. And I mean BEEFY. Between her arms and her thighs, she looks like she could crush skulls and watermelons alike with just a bit of squeezing… And she has taken advantage of her reputation as a destructive wildcard to get away with hair that does NOT pass regulation. I mean, are YOU going to go tell the one Scottish woman who’s built like a fridge and coincidentally the YOUNGEST recruit to pass SAS selection and also certified in demolitions and explosions to fix her hair? No, obviously not. So, she wears her hair LONG as shit and only pinned back enough to not get caught in her arms when shooting/fighting + has an undercut so that she doesn’t overheat.

#asks #🗞️ anon #genderbent!141 #genderbend au #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #genderbent!cod

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judasrpc · 10 months

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TIPS FOR WRITING COMBAT, TACTICS, AND / OR FIELD MEDICINE SCENARIOS

Saw a post that made me think about this, so I wanted to share some resources and online profiles I had around writing things such as combat, tactical operations, and / or field medicine! Plus my Call of Duty fixation is in full swing fjslfjdslfj

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional, nor am I someone who has served in the military or law enforcement in any capacity. Some topics may be unsettling/disturbing, so please take care in reading.

This isn't as organized as I'd like it to be, but I did my best to make it fairly easy to navigate.

Doc Combat [TikTok] - A collection of videos focused around administering Tactical Combat Casualty Care (TCCC).

Tactical Combat Casualty Care Quick Reference Guide, First Edition (2017) [PDF] - A handbook published by the U.S. Government and military detailing basic management, what to do in scenarios, and how to address varying types of wounds.

Protocols for Common Injuries from Police Weapons [Archive] - A guide detailing various injuries that can be collected from police/military weapons and how to attend to them.

Organizing Armed Defense in America [Archive] - A guide on how to establish security and defense measures, as well as a list of equipment often used in militia groups.

FEMA Independent Study Courses [Website] - An extensive collection of free (yes, free) courses provided by the Federal Emergency Management Agency, which covers so many topics, such as Hazardous Materials, Active Shooting, Community Emergency Response, Fire Safety, and more! You can save any information provided in the course(s) you choose, as it's all public access.

Writing (US) Government Clearances [Tumblr] - A small guide on how to navigate government clearances.

TM 31-210 Improvised Munitions Handbook [Archive] - Pretty self-explanatory, but an archive of documents showing how improvised munitions are made.

The US Military Manual Collection [Archive] - A collection of US manuals published by the United States Army's Army Publishing Directorate.

Remember, all of this information is publicly accessible! I seriously cannot recommend using archival websites enough, especially since Google (and other search engines) manipulate what appears first with every search.

Also, I am not responsible for what y'all do with this info. Read responsibly, and stay frosty!

#rph #rpc #writing guide #tactical guide #guide #judasrpc

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shinycollarboneapologist · 1 year

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hoax

pt 3 to the taylor!verse or they definitely learn how to communicate.

content: not entirely smutty, but alludes to smut so 18+ only please, hurt no comfort, matty lies :/

matty’s departure for a tour usually pans out in one of two ways: a. you aren’t even privy to the fact that he’s left until he sends you a random dick pic in the middle of the afternoon, claiming it's two am his time and he misses you so so so much, or b. you’re getting woken up at six in the morning because he’s conveniently forgotten to secure a ride to the airport.

so, you sit and wait for the text. either one would work at this point, (though you’re a bit impartial to not being woken up with a picture of his dick).

you don’t just get a text however, you get multiple. a slew of messages wake you up from your slumber. multiple are him just asking if you’re awake because he’s bored out of his mind without you. others are him telling you all about the city he’s in and that you have to come visit because there’s so much good food and record shops and the vintage store he found has the best band tees he’s ever seen so he needs to know your size as soon as possible so he can buy you one. there’s an interesting use of emojis, too. you laugh to yourself as you begin to reply, but you’re immediately cut off by an incoming facetime from the man in question.

this continues for a few days- him in constant contact and you both ending your night on the phone together with him making promises of sweet nothings and baseless love. it's like he took a page right out of the “how-to-be-a-boyfriend-without-the-label handbook”, the perfect page at least to make you feel that deep down maybe in some parallel lifetime you were his and he was yours. and when he talks you through a mind-numbing orgasm later that night, having you puppeteer a ghost of what he would do to you had he been there, he asks you if you're his. and like you always do, you say yes through gasps for air and contorts of pleasure. you never ask if he’s yours though, the thought slips your mind at the moment. but you don’t need to because you know.

the next day, he calls and asks what your schedule looks like. you tell him there’s a lull in filming at the moment and that you’re free until a little over a month from now. he giggles, deviously, and you have half a mind to ask him what that’s all about. but he ends the call before you can. your confirmation comes about an hour later when you receive a text message with hotel and flight information and a cheeky “see you soon x”. you don’t push the envelope by questioning his intentions. instead, you make sure you tie up any loose ends for the next week and pack a bag.

he picks you up from the airport in yet another rented red convertible.

“you have a type, don’t you?” you laugh.

he shoots you a look, tossing your bag that he insisted on carrying for you into the backseat. “piss off.”

it only fuels your laughter, watching the way his face scrunches up as he rounds the car to get in the driver’s seat.

“mean it. I’ll leave you here,” his tone sounds serious, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips and a glimmer in his eyes.

you roll your eyes as you hop in the car, “who’s going to get you off then, hm?”

he doesn’t respond. his hand finds itself on your thigh and that’s the answer you need.

for the first few days, it all seems normal. you fall into a sense of routine quite easily; waking up in a new hotel room, eating the hotel’s excuse for breakfast, lounging by the pool for a few hours, getting ready, going to the show, leaving for the after-party, leaving said after party early with matty whispering filthy promises in your ear, ending up in his room yet again, and then sneaking back out to your own hotel room before anyone would notice you were missing. it’s easy, to fall into this routine with him- especially on the days he has off and you two muck about in new cities, acting like tourists and finding new vintage stores. it’s like there was no ignoring and pining, just two friends (who happen to know each other’s bodies like the back of their hands) exploring and having a grand old time. painless, fun. easy.

until it isn’t.

she shows up on the fifth day of your trip. a woman mirroring your features. she’s an actress with a name that sounds like yours.

you had hardly noticed until you go to breakfast the next morning and she’s sat next to matty. your seat. he’s laughing at a joke she’s telling, wrapped up in her effortlessly. you don’t blame him. she’s funny and beautiful. you don’t blame her either for the way she looks at him because it's the same exact way you do.

he introduces you as his friend, with his arm wrapped over her shoulders and a permanent smile on his lips. the knife is twisting deeper. the wound only grows larger as she giggles out how matty’s told her so much about you and how much she loved the last movie you were in and did you know that matty and george had a hand in the soundtracking, they’re so talented, aren’t they? through a pained smile, one that matty would’ve picked up on (should’ve picked up on) had he been paying any attention to you, you’re nodding and thanking her. you excuse yourself before you can endure anymore, blaming it on a conference call. you feel stupid. used and stupid and confused.

you don’t notice matty’s eyes following you out of the room, a sallow expression overtaking his once gleeful smile.

there’s a knock at your hotel room. It’s just after two-thirty in the morning. you’re barely even opening the door before he’s pushing his way in, taking you in his arms and kissing the breath from your lips, sucking all of the air out of your lungs. you melt into him as you always do, fingers tangling in his hair and whines vibrating onto his lips. he takes you apart bit by bit with his tongue like his life depends on it, building you up to a blinding finish over and over and over again. you’re practically pulling him off of you in an attempt to hold onto whatever sanity you have left. and when he kisses you again, you taste yourself in his mouth; a small sliver of the remnants of your fantasy. he kisses you like he’s yours; your own perfectly curated shade of blue, a color mixed so tenderly and carefully like no other you’ve ever known.

you don’t ask him if he is yours, because you don’t have to. you never have to. not with the way he looks at you, a reflected image of your own dazed smile.

the last girl leaves and is replaced with another mirror of you. his late-night visits become far and few. time’s slipping away as quickly as he is, and there’s only three days left before you’re due back home for a photoshoot.

you didn’t notice it all until george brings it up as you two share a smoke on a balcony overlooking a new city. the air is crisp and the warmth brought by the blanket over your shoulders is a necessity.

“where’s matty?” he asks, exhaling the cloud of smoke in front of him with an outstretched hand holding the joint out to you.

you gladly accept, shrugging your shoulders and taking a hit, “haven’t seen much of him besides when he’s on stage.”

his eyebrows furrow and a tilt of his head comes soon after. you don’t like that look. it bubbles a deep feeling in your chest that radiates throughout your body and out into the air. you exhale as a means to eradicate it all, trying to push it away but there’s no use.

“weren’t you with him last night? i called and heard a voice in the back, sounded like yours.”

with the look you give him, he knows he’s ultimately shit the bed. your mind starts racing to matty telling you he was going to be busy for the next few nights, something about rewrites and creative processes but your mind was too hazy from the pleasure induced matty high to have it really resonate with you. you remember how he answered a phone call in the other room, just out of earshot so you wouldn’t be able to hear him. the feeling only grows.

“i uh, i wasn’t. i thought he was with you,” you swallow, thickly. your throat feels dry, but you’re accepting the joint again anyway.

george just shakes his head, offering you a solemn glance.

you feel sick. he’s on tour; singing songs he’s written about you yet, still shacking up with girls that aren’t you but look and act like you at the end of the night. so what's the matter with you, exactly? he makes you promise him that you’re his and you’ve never once asked him if that was reciprocated. he’s never once said it. but he acts like he’s yours in the middle of the night and under the covers and over text messages at ungodly hours. he tastes like he’s yours when he kisses you with so much fervor and longing that you forget how to breathe.

there are two days before you have to leave now. after the revelation on the balcony with george, you find yourself packing your bags, hurriedly. deuxmoi is calling her his next girlfriend, going on and on and gushing about how happy he looks for once. you’re sick to your stomach, excusing yourself from the gig that night with a lie about some casting call with your manager.

it’s late when they get back and matty is still riding his stage high. when he sees you outside the hotel, hushing furious secrets on the phone, it all comes crashing down. bile rises to his throat and he approaches you with a cigarette tucked between his lips.

“so we lie to each other, now?”

you jump, not expecting to see him until morning. your scoff falls into the air, ignored as he stares at you indignantly awaiting your response.

“you’re one to talk, matt.” the name feels foreign on your tongue, syllables that haven’t escaped your vernacular recently.

“if you didn’t want to come tonight, why lie about it?” it was a blow to his ego, no doubt, to not have you there tonight. but he deserved it.

“i’m not the liar here.” your words cast a heavy dark cloud over him, “why have you been avoiding me?”

“i didn't... i’m not avoiding you,” he sputters.

your reserve breaks, another lie.

“did you invite me here just so you could sleep with me if one of your friends didn’t feel up to it?”

the words leak out of your lips, dripping with malice like white-hot venom. they’re out in the open now, there’s no way for you to take them back as you wait for his response. the end of his cigarette illuminates as he takes another hit, eyes forward now. he didn’t dare make eye contact, too afraid of the nonsense that would boil over if he did.

“it’s not.. it’s not like that-”

“then enlighten me, matty.”

matty looks at you, finally, pensive as if waiting for you to go on, “i don’t understand.”

“why did you invite me here?”

“i think it’s pretty obvious?” an awkward laugh falls from his lips.

“god, i’m so fucking dumb,” you groan and run a hand over your face, wishing the earth would just swallow you whole, “i’ve been here waiting for a sign that maybe just maybe things were changing and i didn’t waste years of my life pining after a man who doesn’t care about me but instead sees me as an opportunity to get laid when his long line of women runs dry.”

“that’s bullshit! you were off doing the same things i was-”

“yeah, but i stopped because i…”

“you what?”

“i fell in love with you,” you confess.

you watch as his mouth bobs up and down. the air feels as if it’s been sucked out of your lungs, yet again, and you so badly want to just take back everything you said, beginning with your inquisition and your later revelation to him. you’re not sure if you even want him to say anything at this point, knowing that whatever he says is not going to help you lick the self-inflicted wounds or heal the mess you’ve so brilliantly perpetrated.

there’s an utterance of your name as he tosses aside the ember of his cigarette. you shake your head though, don’t want to hear what he has to say. the moment has come and gone, fleeting like a flash of lightning before a clap of thunder. he steps towards you, hands shifting as he wonders if he should touch you or just keep them to himself. he chooses the latter and you have to swallow down the tears as they sting at the corners of your eyes. you’re not about to give him the satisfaction.

“you don’t have to say anything,” your voice permeates the thickened air. his eyes search yours relentlessly, but you remain stoic in how you speak. “but if it isn’t obvious. this,” you gesture between the two of you, “i can’t do it anymore. at least not like it was before. and i’m not about to push you into something you’re not ready for. so, i’ve decided to just take myself out of the equation.”

“well that’s hardly fair,” he scoffs, his voice laced with his own thick emotion.

“i need to do this for me, though.”

“if you just give me some time-”

“matty, i can’t. if it’s taking you this long to even remotely have a response towards me telling you how i feel then it’s not going to happen and we both just need to move on.”

“but,” he swallows, “i want you to stay.”

“i can’t, not like this.”

“you knew what this was when we started, so i don’t know why you’re getting like this. can’t we just forget this happened? i won’t see her again if that makes you feel any better,” matty’s eyes are red and bloodshot and you watch as he blinks a few times as if to ward off tears.

“you can’t treat me one way behind closed doors, telling me you’re mine and kissing me like that and filling my head up with this faithless love and then make it out to be like none of that has ever happened.”

“that’s how it’s always been!”

“why can’t you just face the fact that things have been different between us?”

matty looks down at his shoes, “i didn’t notice that…”

“that’s bullshit, matty.” you cry out.

“i don’t want you to leave. not like this.”

“then give me a reason to stay. tell me that it’s not just in my head, that you feel what i feel, and that i’m not just imagining it all,” you plead, “tell me you want me the way i want you.”

matty stays silent for a minute or two, you’ve stopped counting. instead you’re holding your breath to put off crying, trying to will some kind of higher being to reverse the clock. you feel your grip on the upper hand begin to slide when his eyes meet yours again. he utters your name, begging with you. but it’s too late, you’re exasperated and tired of the back and forth and on and off and hot and cold. you just want to hear him say it. you’ve never had to ask him before, but your assumptions have left you feeling empty and slighted.

the second utterance of your name is all the confirmation you need. your eyes are stinging and you just shake your head at him, but he keeps speaking anyway. you wish you could stop listening, stop falling into his trap.

“i do want you. always," he steps towards you somberly, hands outstretched.

“you know that’s not what i mean,” you whisper in fear of what your voice would sound like even a decibel louder. you’ve lit the candle from both ends, enjoying the feeling of claiming him as your own and having him around without the vindication that he feels the same way. and now you’re left with the ashes of what was, forced to clean up the mess that’s left behind and hopefully clean up yourself as well. for years, you’ve put him first, let his entire being consume you whole, and paint you a shade of blue. but it was all a hoax, a game constructed by the man who stood before you so he could have his cake and eat it, too.

that seems to be enough for him to drop your hand. you hadn’t even realized he picked it up. and that’s the worst part of it all, you think, is he’s letting you go now without so much of a fight. the war is over, a winless fight, and as the dust settles all you can think about is how you’ve never once gotten the clarification.

you never asked him if he was yours because you never had to. but in hindsight, maybe you should have.

#hey :)#matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfic #matty healy smut #matty healy angst #my writing.#taylor!verse #✏️ - matty.

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dailyadventureprompts · 7 months

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Calling Tumblr DMs

Inspired by @thydungeonguy 's recent posts about teaching new players to play d&d I think I want to put together a thinktank and develop a sort of .... player pamphlet?

Something that contains the basics on mechanics yes but also an intro on the "unspoken oral tradition" of d&d play that *I'm* very fond of but isn't communicated at all in the books. Ideally it'd be zine sized, something you could print out, fold, staple, and then hand out a few copies during session 0 or whatever for people to take home and read, rather than having to borrow or gods forbid buy a players handbook and wander around the youtube tutorial rabbithole and STILL come away with questions.

I think I'm going to form a discord chat for this, shoot me a DM (ha) if you'd like an invite. Also if you're not a dungeonmaster or don't feel like joining in, maybe spread this around? The more help I can get brainstorming the more I'll

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gryffindormarveltwilight · 9 months

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All we Need - Jake Seresin x Reader - Part 2

A/N: Here is part two, I have enjoyed writing this hence why I am getting the parts up pretty quickly. Feedback is welcome and so are request!

Pairings: Jake ‘hangman’ seresin x fem!pilot!Benjamin Reader

Warning: Angst Fluff Naval Inaccuracies mentions of death and mentions of the mission from the movie

Note: this is a bot of an AU where Iceman is fine and better!

Jakes POV

“Daddy,” I hear a whisper next to me and a slight tap on my shoulder opening my eyes to see my daughter with a sad look on her face.

“What’s the matter Daisy?”

“Thena gone.” She replies tears brimming in her eyes and I shoot up out of bed, any indication that last night was a dream gone as I look at the tears threatening to fall.

“No baby maybe she just had an early start you know how she likes to wake up early to go make sure everything is safe for you.” She nods and starts making grabby hands indicating she wanted to be picked. I picked her up and headed toward the kitchen to start breakfast looking at the clock seeing that it was only 7am, Sarah wouldn’t be here for another half an hour to pick Daisy up. We eventually sat down for breakfast when there was a knock on the door. I opened it to see Sarah standing there a wide grin on her face as she stepped through the house.

“Hi miss Daisy” Daisy lifted her head with a small smile.

“Hi grandma Sarah”

Sarah shot me a confused look and I sighed normally Daisy would jump out of her seat for Sarah.

“Y/N got home last night, but was gone before we could wake up.” Sarah nodded immediately understanding the gloominess of the two Seresin’s.

“I am sure she will be home tonight Daisy, until then did you want to spend some time with me and Papa Ice and we can go to the zoo” Daisy head pops up and she sprints to her room to get ready suddenly excited at the sound of going to he zoo.

“I will grab some money for you to take her to the zoo, Sarah, thank you for looking after her.”

“Don’t you dare Jake, it is always our pleasure, since Ice got better he loves spending time with her and besides I know how hard it is for kids to grow up in this lifestyle.”

“Thank you” I say giving her a hug, for some reason this last deployment of Athena’s seemed harder than normally and now with this mission we are all stressed, the only silver lining was that Iceman was better lifting everyones spirits slightly. “Can you help Daisy get ready, I need to be on base in 30 mins.” Sarah nodded before walking into Daisy’s room.

After getting ready I waved to Sarah and Daisy before heading off towards base. When I arrived I walked into the classroom to noticed I was the last one to arrive with still no sign of Athena anywhere I start thing maybe she hadn’t been recalled and was just home early from deployment. As I took my seat next to Coyote, Warlock and Cyclone walk in explaining the details of the mission.

“And now to introduce the pilot instructed to teach all of you how to successfully fly this mission……Captain Pete Mitchell call sign Maverick.”

I turn to see Mav walking down the centre of the chairs, he hives me a subtle nod as I see Coyote Payback and Fanboy drop their heads while an angry look crosses Roosters face.

“What did you do Coyote”

“We throw him overboard about 1 min after you left last night.” I laugh lowly as Mad starts talking about the F-18 handbook.

“Today’s training will be basic dogfighting, you will be going up in pairs, first up Hangman, Payback and Fanboy, be ready in 15, I will meet you in the air.” We all start to stand up and head towards our jets, I see Rooster looking angry.

“Rooster man you okay?” He rolls his eyes at me

“Go away Hangman.”

“Okay but just so you know you can talk to me I know normally you would talk to Athena about it but you can talk to me.”

“I really thought she would be here.”

“Me too.” We turn to look as we hear a jet take off from the 2nd runway where the instructors planes normally are.

“Well that must be Mav that’s my cue, don’t let whatever is getting to you get to you Rooster.” I leave it at that and walk toward my jet before doing pre-flight checks. Once I was ready to go I lined up on the tarmac as Payback and Fanboy take off, after I have taken off we start idling above the training area waiting for instructions.

“Morning Aviators and welcome to basic dogfighting, you are not to go below the hard deck of 5,000 feet. The goal shoot before you get shot down.”

Mav starts through the radio before Payback interrupts.

“What happens if we don’t, sir”

“I shoot back.” I can here the snideness in his voice.

“How bout we put some skin in the game.”

“What are you thinking Payback?”

“Whoever gets shot down has to do 200 push ups.”

“Alright you are on Payback.”

“Guys. That is a lot of push ups.” My heart nearly plummets to the ground when I hear the voice through the radio, a voice I would no anywhere suddenly the sun is blocked out of my canopy and I look up as I see Athena had moved her jet so she was upside over my jet.

“Hey cowboy, miss me.”

“Shit is that…” Payback breaks through the radio and Fanboy finished the sentence

“Athena, shit.”

Readers POV

I giggle as I hear Payback and Fanboy swear looking down at Jake just able to make out the shocked expression, i knew he knew i was home but I had still managed to surprise him.

‘Alright boys, its on.’ I quickly break away from my inclined position getting into a fight position, I knew Jake was going to be the tough one to beat, i also knew he had a bad habit of leaving his wingman so I went after Payback and Fanboy first, the put up on hell of a fight radio for Jake who i had seen sneak up behind me arrogance in his voice.

“This fellas is how you kill a goddess.”

“Right Hangman, time to teach you a lesson,,,,you’re out Payback.”

“Copy Athena” i break away and Jake follows as i start flying toward the sun, i can hear him asking payback for help to which payback responds with ‘i’m dead dickhead.’ And I giggle knowing i am now out of jakes line of sight i pull the control stick and flip over the top to land behind him.

‘You’re out Hangman, next time don’t leave your wingman.’ I see him hit the canopy before we all head back to base. I was the first to land, after i landed i popped the canopy and climb down the wing as i hit the ground I was wrapped in a tight pair of arms.

‘I missed you too Roo.’ He didn’t say anything just hugged me tighter.

‘I havent seen you in what a year and you dont even call to tell me your back.’ Before i can answer two more sets of arms wrap around me I look to see both Bob and Phoenix hugging me

‘Good to see you both as well.’ I reach up and ruffle bobs hair to which he groans through a wide smile.

‘Phe, we need lots of drinks tonight, on me.’ She nods

‘I missed you thena’

‘Me too Phe.’

I spot Jake over Phoenix’s head I smile before sprinting across the tarmac, Jake smiles even wider as I leap in his arms and wrap my legs around his waist.

‘Miss me did you Thena.’

‘You know I did, sorry I didn’t call, I didnt know I was coming back till I was practically on the plane.’

‘Daisy was upset you weren’t there this morning.’ He says placing me on the ground. I lower my head, suggesting ice cream and movies before we go to the Bar tonight.

‘I gotta go see Mav, but I will see you all in the classroom soon yeah.’ And i take off towards where Mav is standing with Cyclone.

Jakes POV

I watch as she takes off running toward Mav and Cyclone so lost in my own thoughts I didn’t hear Rooster come up behind me

‘That was odd.’ I turn to Rooster.

‘What are you on about man she just needed to talk to Mav.’ I replied though Rooster was right we hadn’t seen each other in months and she said two sentences to me. Rooster just shrugged and walked towards the classroom where everyone else was gathering. I walked it taking my seat next to Coyote normally Athena would sit on the other side but right now she was standing still fully kitted up next to Mav. Cyclone moves to the front of the room gaining everyone’s attention

‘Now the she has graced as with her appearance can I introduce your team leader and co-instructor for this mission, the only pilot on active duty to be an Ace by having five air-to-air kills, and the best pilot that Navy has had in decades Lieutenant Commander Y/N Benjamin, call sign Athena.’ I turn in shock to look at Phoenix and Rooster who are also looking with at the front in shock as she moves to the front, Coyote taps my shoulder whispering in my ear

‘She is an Ace and got a promotion and you didn’t tell me.’

‘I didn’t know.’ And i turn back to the front of the room my full attention on Athena.

‘Most of you I know and have flown with before for some it is the first time, the point of these next few weeks is to teach you all how to fly this mission and get you all home safely.’

I took note of the way she was phrasing the mission objectives and how she was always saying you and not us, I made a mental note to talk to her about it in private, we all knew this mission was dangerous but the way she is speaking is that someone is coming home and that someone is her.

‘Now next in the air going up against Maverick is Rooster, Phoenix and Bob.’ Rooster shoots a small glare at her and she shrugs slightly.

‘As for the rest of you report to the rec room there is a schedule there of who is flying and when except Payback, Fanboy and Hangman.’ I flinch at my call sign coming out of her mouth through all our years she has always referred to me as Jake.

‘Ma’am where do we report.’ Fanboy asked.

‘To Hondo, Fanboy, you three owe me 200 pushups.’

Readers POV

I saw Payback and Fanboy groan as the head towards Hondo, I glance to Jake who looks hurt that i had kept the promotion and the fact i was now an Ace a secret. As he stood up i yelled out to him to get his attention to stay back.

‘Ma’am is there something i can do for you.’ I could hear the sarcasm in his voice with hints of anger

‘Cut it out Hangman, I was going to tell you I just hadn’t got time to.’

‘How could you not get time is your phone broken or something.’

‘I got told i was being recalled then shoved on a plane before i finishing packing my bag, by the time i got home I just wanted to sleep.’

‘What happened on you last mission Athena?!’ I saw his face soften as i struggled to control my emotions a flash of sadness making its way across my face, before i could answer Cyclone called me to report to his office.

‘I want to tell you Jake, but I don’t know if i am ready, tonight can we go together to get daisy and then maybe grab some ice cream by the beach.’ He just nodded in response and i patted him on the arm before walking to cyclones office.

‘Sir,’

‘Athena, how was it being back in the air after everything today?’

‘Fine sir, no issues at all it felt like i never left.’

‘Losing a wingman is never easy Athena if you need to talk to someone whether its professionally or Iceman you need to talk about it.’

‘I know thank you sir, with regard Iceman is helping me as he knows the details of the mission.’

‘Very well and well done on the promotion, I am sure you are happy’

‘Yes Sir, thank you.’ As he dismissed me and i headed toward the locker room hoping Phoenix was still in the sky. As i picked up the pace tears threatening to spill i crashed into a hard chest looking up to see who it was i widen my eyes in surprise.

‘Uncle Ice?’

Taglist: @dory-98

#dagger squad #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake ‘hangman’ seresin #jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin

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helleboretks · 1 year

Text

Kids Will Be Kids

This is a Sokouku Tickle Fic! With Lee!Chuuya, Ler!Dazai! If this isn’t your forte, no need to read!

Summary: Chuuya wants to get to their next mission, Dazai wants to satisfy his (both their) curiosity. We all know who gets what he wants anyway.

Dazai may be scary to a lot of people, but never truly to Chuuya.

It was odd to him at first, why everyone around him was so frightened by a literal child, only just reaching the fifteen mark in his years. If anything, to Chuuya he was…weird. Kind of a ridiculous weird, kind of a concerning weird. One of the most important emotions he seems to take pride in tends to be something close to listlessness.

He could be incredibly lazy if he wanted to, laying around and spacing out without a care in the world, and yet everyone would still steer clear of him if he was at least in the vicinity, or within earshot.

Chuuya did not exactly like what that implied.

But, no matter what Dazai did, whether it was shooting a corpse into the ground simply because what he gave them, the release of death, was something they ‘didn’t even deserve’, or using that master brain of his to create such elaborate and twisted plans, forcing Chuuya to go along with them whether he knew about it or not (and most often times, it’s the latter), Chuuya himself couldn’t always see why Dazai was so feared.

He was just…stupid.

Like right now.

Chuuya was staring Dazai down, whose face was covered with that iconic Suicide Handbook he somehow always seems to have on his person, sprawled out on the couch of one of the many lounges. He would have looked dead, had it not been for the soft rise and fall of his chest. He was asleep.

Fact still stands, this was Dazai. The kid who barely acts like a kid, something he’s only seen at least two or so times before. He can’t even be completely sure if the other is asleep, he’s very convincing in the ways of deceit after all.

“Oi, Dazai.” Chuuya huffed, hands stuffed in his pockets as he deadpanned. “We’ve got a mission in two hours, get the fuck up already.” He pressed a foot lightly into his partner’s side, not actually having any reason to kick him yet. The inevitable ‘yet’ makes him hold back an exasperated groan of annoyance already.

The other didn’t respond, still deep in (feigning?) exhaustion as light snores hummed from him. Chuuya let out a short growl, pressing a bit harder against his side, shaking the taller as well. “Dazai. Shitty mackerel, I said, get the fuck up!” He spoke a little harsher. And still, nothing, the idiot refused to move.

He huffed, glancing around the empty room. He really didn’t feel like getting into a fight today, if anything, he just wants this done and over with so they could move on and get to the mission. He sat down on the ledge of the couch, the only other place Dazai’s tall frame wasn’t covering, crossing one leg over the other. “Dazai.” He grumbled. “Mackerel, Shitty Dazai, Vagabond, Waste o’ Bandages.”

Not a single one of them got him to respond. Rolling his eyes, Chuuya reaches for Dazai’s book, peeling it off his face. He tried to resist the urge to take a peak at its contents, but ultimately failed, glancing at it for a few moments. Just as freakish as he thought it would be.

But when he finally takes a look at Dazai’s face, he can’t say the same for the boy.

Face scrunched, eyebrows in a tight crease, and a visible frown on (rather delicate) features, he didn’t look at peace, and yet he was still snoring away, mouth slipped open the smallest bit. He was in discomfort, clear as day for anyone to see. Was that why he had the book covering his face? He predicted even his own discomfort, and hid it from the world before it was even in progress of appearing?

Well, that was Dazai. Even many steps ahead of himself. And he knew nobody would disturb him either, with the status of Demon Prodigy, truly a genius of his own being, as much as Chuuya hates to admit it.

So maybe he felt a little pissed that Dazai probably thought it applied to him too.

Chuuya tapped the boy’s face twice, just to ensure that he’s actually asleep and not faking it. And sure enough, not even a twitch came over him. He didn’t exactly like the idea of having to wake up Dazai, but the sooner it’s done the better.

(That was a lie, the face of contorted distraught on Dazai didn’t fit him at all, it was unnerving and, dare he say it but, it worried him…)

He didn’t really think much of how he’d go about waking up Dazai, simply grabbing at his side and squeezing it rapidly, deeming that the safest way to go about it. “Oi, Dazai, get up-” Chuuya hummed, only to stop mid sentence when he heard a slight noise, stopping in his movements.

Was that what he thought it was? It couldn’t have been, it was probably just a little exhale from the touch Dazai’s brain was processing as a response. So hesitantly, he continued squeezing at his side, now letting his other hand join in the fray on the other side.

It didn’t take long for Dazai to start squirming in his sleep, arms curling closer to his chest as Chuuya gazed up at his face, looking for a sign of consciousness. Instead, he saw something different, so different in fact, that his own brain (and heart) seemed to stutter at what he was looking at.

Dazai’s face was growing pink, eyebrows twitching and sleepy exhales getting breathier, hitching a few times as his lips wobbled into something akin to a smile. Chuuya, curious to this odd kind of behavior, started speeding up his touches, almost fascinated by the other’s odd reactions.

He swore the other boy gasped, before sleepy giggles fell from his lips, trembling in place as his squirming became more erratic. Why was he giggling? Was it because of what Chuuya was doing? Was he just susceptible to odd kinds of touch? Was Chuuya’s touch even odd?

In his thoughts, he let his hands wander down to Dazai’s hips, experimentative. However, he jolted harshly when Dazai squealed (he fucking squealed!) loud, awake within an instant and sitting upright.

“Chuuya!” Dazai yelped, batting the other’s hands away. But nope, Chuuya was in his own world, eyes wide and practically sparkling in fascination. He’s never seen a person react like that to touch before, eyes flitting between his hands and Dazai’s face, who was very visibly pouting.

“That’s so mean, Chibi!” Dazai pouted, wiping away the sleep from his eyes as he held back a yawn. “I’m ticklish, idiot.” Chuuya blinked owlishly at that, gradually tilting his head to the side.

What??

“What’s that?” He asked blankly, and now it was Dazai’s turn to blink at him, for once seeming a bit stunned. “You don’t- you don’t know what that is?” Chuuya deadpanned at the Prodigy for that one. “Oh, of course I’d know whatever the fuck that is within the eight years I’ve been alive.” He spat with all the sarcasm he could muster.

Dazai huffed out a laugh, rolling his one visible eye as he scooted back, allowing Chuuya to sit on the couch more comfortably. “What is it?” Chuuya asked, moving closer to Dazai, who promptly ignored his question. “Dazai, what is it? What the fuck is it? Tell me, God damnit!”

The other, at first seemed keen on ignoring him, huffing as he searched for his little Suicide Book. But then he perked up, and Chuuya instantly recognized a certain glint in his eyes.

Maybe…maybe this was a mistake-

“If I show you, will you stop asking, chibikko?” Chuuya blanked for a moment, staring at the other in confusion. Show him? He doesn’t even know what it is, why would Dazai think he’d trust him with that? They even had a mission in like, two hours! He can’t just waste his time doing something to satisfy his curiosity.

“...fine, but make it quick. We got places to be, dumbass.”

But of fucking course, he was too curious for his own good sometimes.

“Great! Thanks for being sooo much more compliant today, Chuuya!” The other growled at him, but stupidly continued to comply when Dazai coaxed him onto his back, albeit hesitantly. “Just so you know, I don’t fucking trust you.” Chuuya scowled, to which Dazai just rolled his eyes, flexing his fingers together.

“Obvious enough, really.” Came Dazai’s reply, only for Chuuya to yelp as Dazai-that stupid lanky mackerel- decided to sit his stupid butt on the other’s thighs. So of course, Chuuya freaked for a second.

“OiOiOi! If this is some stupid sexual thing I swear to GOD-” Dazai shushed him with a hand over his mouth, a pouty look on his face. “Oh hush Chibi! This is essential so I won’t have you kicking me in the face! I don’t want any unnecessary bruises right now.”

…Excuse?

“What the fuck?” He spoke, muffled by Dazai’s hand for a moment before it was removed. “Yes, yes, you’ll understand in a minute, with your little doggy pea brain.” Chuuya tsked, turning his head to the side.

“Now,” Dazai said, a sudden undertone in his voice that had Chuuya snapping back to look at him. But suddenly, skinny fingers found themselves clinging to Chuuya’s sides, and holy shit the spark that followed made him jolt.

“Prepare to be amazed, hatrack.”

And then those fingers started moving.

SWEET FUCK-

Chuuya choked out a strangled noise, and as if he’d been electrocuted by Zeus’ lightning, he began squirming just as Dazai predicted, a feverishly bad urge to laugh taking over his insides. “W-whahahat the fahahack!?” He sputtered, his arms clamping down around his sides as he twisted from side to side.

“I knew it! You are ticklish! You certainly looked so to me.” Dazai spoke triumphantly, skittering scuttle-y fingers all over Chuuya’s sides. The feeling was shocking and unfamiliar, sending horribly tingly sensations to scatter just under his skin, and Chuuya threw his head back.

Now what the fuck were Dazai’s fingers so fast for!? Where the hell did this energy come from, and why in God’s damn name is Chuuya laughing??

The boy tried desperately to clamp his mouth shut, but with all his non-existent experience with something like this, the attempt failed horribly, and he kept laughing, struggling under Dazai’s ministrations.

He could hardly get his arms to stay anywhere but his sides! Each time he tried to move them, Dazai would pinch just somewhere higher and they’d slam back down with vigor. The wobbly smile on Chuuya’s face wasn’t deliberate either, and it was almost embarrassing how wide it was.

Was this what it was? Being ticklish??

Suddenly, he didn’t like the word anymore.

“Chibi’s ticklish! Aaaaw, tickle, tickle, tickle, Chibi-chuu!” Chuuya practically squealed at such nonsensical teasing. It was different from what Dazai’d usually do, so baby-ish and cruel.

“Wahahahahait, Oh my Gohohohod, Dazai!” Chuuya exclaimed through the rapid laughter that forced itself out of his lungs, only to practically squeal when Dazai found his ribs, digging into the inbetweens and leaving him desperately attempting to kick him off.

Which would have worked, normally, if he wasn’t feeling so sapped of energy laying helplessly beneath the lanky asshole. Chuuya guffawed when Dazai’s blunt nails dug into his skin, only two layers of clothes separating bare physical contact, yet they did practically nothing to save his ass.

Chuuya bucked rapidly, and Dazai laughed as he was jostled from where he sat, as if mocking him for acting like a wild bull seeing a red flag. But Chuuya just couldn’t stop, shaking his head as his nose scrunched and his cheeks got hotter, blushing from the extreme exertion he certainly wasn’t prepared for.

Dazai, however, seemed to want to be even more of an embarrassing fish, removing one hand from Chuuya’s ribs and searching for his tie, a grin of pure hilarity on his face.

“It’s gettin’ hot in here, so take off all your clothes~!” He cruelly sang, slipping his tie off with ease as Chuuya’s ears flushed red. What was he even thinking!?

It came to him all too late when Dazai grabbed at his wrists.

He could hardly protest through his laughter, Dazai’s one hand skillful enough to keep him giggling his breath away, unable to wrap his lips around coherent words as his other hand worked to tie his wrist together, right above his head, and tied to arm of the couch, the couch arm which had the same design as a fucking chair.

Fuck furniture designs!

“Nahahahaha!! Dazahahahahai, I’ll k-kihihill you!” Chuuya shrieked, trying fruitlessly at tugging the fabric, which didn’t even budge because of course Dazai had to be good at one-handing tight knots.

“But Chibi! You can’t even touch me at this point. If anything, I’m the one touchy touching youuu~!” If Chuuya had any remaining dignity in him, it was probably gone at that moment.

Oh, also the fact that Dazai ducked his hands under his shirt.

Fuck-

Chuuya practically screamed curses, body vibrating as he choked on screeching laughter, squirming amped up by the ten powers.

“Ohohoho? Someone’s got a ticklish tummy? Aaw, how adorable! Grabbin’ that little tum tum o’ yours, my little doggy~!”

Oh this was humiliating, oh why the hell was he laughing more at those stupid, embarrassing words!?!? Nope nope nope, pride gone, he’s lost everything, this is it for him.

“PLEAHAHAHAHA!! NAHAHAHAHAHA, I CAAAHAHAHAN’T-” Dazai just seemed even more spurred on by Chuuya’s screams-turned-pleas, making stupid kissy noises that one would to a dog. “C’mon puppy! I thought dogs loved tummy rubs?”

He doesn’t wanna know anymore! He knows enough now! Holy shit it’s so much!?

“IHIHIT’S SO BAHAHAD!!! I DOHOHOHON’T WANNA KNOHOW ANYMOHOHOHORE!!!” Dazai laughed at that, his grin of playful maliciousness sending an arrow straight through his heart, the sparkling in his eyes as he watched Chuuya turn to a laughing, begging mess underneath had the smaller shivering, blushing so deeply for a whole other reason.

Dazai’s full attention was on him, poking and pinching and prodding the places that had Chuuya screaming, dipping his finger so indecently into his belly button that caused an embarrassingly high snort to break loose, sweet lips smiling with such cruelty in them.

It made Chuuya’s heart beat at rabbiting speeds, seeing that much genuine emotion.

“Ohohoho, I’m gonna tickle you until you cry, Chibi~!”

Oh God. Oh no. This was the end of him. He wasn’t getting out of this alive-

Chuuya’s head flung so far back he feared he might break his neck, his face hurt just from smiling so much, for so long. Yet the poor teen could do nothing more than take what he had coming for him. He made his own bed, now he has to lay in it.

Because now Dazai was after his tummy and his waist. And that was just too cruel.

The tears came quicker than either of them thought, not that Chuuya even knew he could cry from this, but here he was, tears streaming down his face this way and that because he just couldn’t stop shaking his head.

But oddly enough, no matter how embarrassing this is, Chuuya never truly begged for him to stop. He didn’t even know what he was begging for, repeating mantras of Not there! and Please no! and more and more and more.

And Dazai just seemed to be having too much fun with the advantage he has over Chuuya, even going as far as to nuzzle his face into Chuuya’s neck, and that fluffy brown hair that didn’t usually affect him just seemed so ticklish now.

After that though, Dazai seemed to finally find Chuuya’s limit.

As Chuuya had found it too.

His laughter fell silent after a while, only the remaining snorts and sharp breaths indicating that he was still laughing up a gut. Dazai finally slowed down his touches, much to Chuuya undying relief once he pulled away.

The boy gasped for air desperately, coughing a bit as Dazai giggled at him, seeming wholly satisfied.

“Gosh! That’s quite the stress reliever, don’t you think, Chibi?” Chuuya couldn’t even retort to that, mind feeling floaty as he greedily consumed the air his lungs could give him. Dazai slid off his thighs, and the other curled up into as much of a ball as he could, with the tie still secure around his wrists.

From face to chest, he was flushed an embarrassing red, closing his eyes as the tears began to slow down, still stubbornly clinging to his cheeks and face as he felt the fabric being shuffled about.

Once it fell gracelessly from his wrists, he brought them quickly down to his body, something in him instinctively rubbing at the still electrifying tingly parts where Dazai’s stupid fishy hands got to him, beginning to numb those unforgiving sensations from his skin.

Thank God it’s over! He actually thought he might die there…

“Goodness, Chuuya! You look so worn out! What happened, we haven’t even gone on that mission yet?”

The absolutely appalled expression that framed Chuuya’s face as he stared back at Dazai had the other cracking a smile.

“What? What’s wrong? Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong, huh? C’mon chibi, you can tell your reliable partner! I promise I won’t tickle you again-” The boy says, as he reaches to tickle him again.

Safe to say, Chuuya stayed on the ceiling that day.

#HBWriting #bsd tickle fic #bsd anime #Lee!Chuuya #Ler!Dazai #sokouku #poor chuuya #Dazai why you gotta be so cruel-#bsd #bungou stray dogs tickling

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