#also i implore you to go watch the whole (very short) video with the sound on. the music along w/ the shots.... is so evocative.

[lunetual]

HYUNGWON ✧ STAY N LEAVE we find ‘staying’ magical due to the imperative of ‘leaving’. one day, life will allow us to sit across from each other again.

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed the Radio Star- Chapter 8 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello!!! After a very very very long hiatus, school is over and I am ready to write again. I'm sorry for dropping off the face of the earth, but I did indeed get burnt out this semester and I just needed some time to recover. I also got sick with COVID-19, so I'm sorry that chapter 8 took so long to write. As regards to the things in my ask box, I will be answering them as soon as I post this chapter today. I will be working over the Summer, but I promise to write over the Summer. Thank you all for being kind and I hope that this chapter or two nerds being nerds makes up for some of it... a little at least? Also the text will be italicized

Warnings: One? Curse word? Fluff and texting?

Plot: Spencer and you fight against all judgement and ignore the growing feelings the two of you have for each other. Spencer sends you a text.

Word Count: 2.1K

Spencer had come and gone, and now your couch carried the faint smell of peppermint and old books. The moon peered through your living room window as you poured steaming water into a mug, the smell of peppermint making your stomach flip pleasantly. Your mind wandered dangerously, thinking about how sweet Spencer’s laugh sounded when you nitpicked something the Doctor had said.

Thinking about how he stood in front of your bookcase and how bright his smile became seeing The Nightingale and the Rose amongst the masses, his fingers brushing the spine for a second before he let out a soft ‘oh’. You shook your head from side to side gently, trying to shake the recent memories from your brain as you took a short sip of your tea.

You couldn’t help but feel dirty thinking about Spencer. If you were just thinking about him you would’ve felt better, but you weren’t thinking about Spencer necessarily. You were thinking about how soft his hands felt in the split second the two of you reached for the remote. You were thinking about how he used that same hand to push back his hair from his eyes, how the dying sunlight outside reached his eyes, and how he looked when he lingered for a second too long at the door.

That wasn’t right. You weren’t supposed to think about him like that, you didn’t want to. Every lingering thought was shoved into the back of your mind in a forceful act of rebellion. You needed to remain grounded, you couldn’t let yourself get carried away. He was your friend and he was going to remain your friend, just a friend.

The peppermint tea felt thick as it went down your throat, a soft chime bringing you back to reality. Your hand shot over to your phone, feeling desperate for any kind of distraction. Your mother had texted you a simple ‘Hi’ and you felt your shoulders relax instantly. You hit the call button.

___

Spencer stood in the middle of a park, he wasn’t there for a case or to play chess, he was just there-- sitting on a red blanket. His head raised to the sky as a breeze shook through his hair sweetly. He heard a gentle and familiar laugh beside him, his head snapping away from the blue sky to look at you. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing,”

Spencer frowned, sitting up on his elbows, eyes locked onto yours, silently interrogating you. You waved him off with a smile, “Fine,” you said, leaning your head into the palm of your hand. “I never get to see you like this, so free.”

“I’m always free, thank you very much,” Spencer taunted uncharacteristically as he felt your hand shove into his shoulder with a gentle jab.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” soft wind blew your hair into your face and Spencer could already feel his hand moving to push the hair out of your eyes, “You’re always worrying about work or a case or something else, sometimes it feels like you’re running a thousand miles a minute and I can’t catch up, but sometimes it’s nice to just see you be still for a while.”

Spencer felt pleasant shivers pass through his spine, opening up his mouth to whisper something sweet to say to you, but the words never got the chance to leave his throat as he woke up in his dark bedroom.

His eyelids fluttered gently, begging him to fall back asleep against his will. Spencer forced his eyes open, turning his head to the side to look at the time glowing on the digital clock that sat upon his nightstand. Four in the morning.

Spencer felt his face grow warm as he laid awake in bed, thinking about you. Your laugh, your smile, your eyes, your hands. Spencer didn’t like to touch people, being a slight germaphobe, he tried to avoid touching other people as much as possible. So why was he so comfortable with it in a dream? He didn’t believe that dreams reflected the subconscious, but sometimes he ignored that gnawing feeling inside his brain and believed in dream analysis.

This was one of those times. He knew that if he mentioned anything to Derek, he would make fun of him, and then he would tell Penelope and then everyone would know. So maybe this was something he was going to keep to himself. He wordlessly decided that he wouldn’t tell anyone, it felt wrong to tell anyone. You were hurting. Recovering.

Besides, if he said something-- if he reacted to it, wouldn’t that make this feeling grow? He bit his lip, rolled over on his other side, closed his eyes, and tried to resume the dream he had just woken up from.

__

A lump filled Spencer’s throat as he stepped through the elevator, coffee’s in hand. He wasn’t the best at lying about things and he worked with profilers. Literal people that could look at him and dissect his brain without him saying a word. Usually, he had the upper hand, usually, he didn’t feel so different. He had no reason to feel so strange, he was just happy, was it so strange that he felt happy? When Prentiss’s eyes fell on him, he decided yes.

The team didn’t always say something when they noticed something was off with Spencer, but most of the time they made a habit to say some teasing remark in passing. Spencer wasn’t sensitive, nor was he immune to throwing out some special one-liners of his own, he was just skittish about receiving them.

“Spencer,” Emily’s voice cut through the room, snapping Spencer’s head up from his coffee. “You seem,” she paused “Weird.”

“Weird? Reid?” Derek chuckled softly, eyes meeting Spencer’s for a quick second.

“Yep, always weird.”

“Yeah, okay, he’s being weird,”

Spencer took a long sip of his coffee, his fingertips gripping the cup a little tighter in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. He had no reason to feel weird, no reason at all. It’s not like his dream was real. It had just been so long since Spencer had liked someone as much as he liked you. That wasn’t the right way to think about it; he simply had a crush on you. That was all it was, a crush.

“I just had a good night,” he muttered nervously into the lid of his cup.

“Yeah, with a cute little miss thing that lives in Richmond.”

“Richmond?” mused Emily with a smile.

Spencer frowned at Derek, “Who even told you that? Was it Penelope, because she told me she wouldn’t tell,”

“When she says that, she means she won’t tell Hotch, but she’ll most likely always tell me.”

Emily waved her hand from side to side, “Wait go back,” she pointed at Spencer “Did you have a date yesterday?”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No, it wasn’t a date. It was coffee. We drank coffee and talked.” Spencer argued quickly, making him seem guilty in a matter of seconds.

“Can she even do anything with that boot on?” Emily teased, earning a laugh from Derek.

“Come on, Prentiss. Reid only makes moves on girls in the middle of a case, not after.”

“That was once!”

“So you made a move on her then?” Emily implored gently, letting the interrogative teasing be cut short.

“No, we went back to her apartment to watch a show, and then I went home,” Spencer answered, trying to let his nerves settle down, when he said it out loud it sounded like it was nothing. It sounded silly. Derek and Emily shot each other a glance, shared a smile, and then both mouthed a simple ‘okay’, before going their separate ways.

Spencer knew that Emily was probably running over to whisper something to Rossi or J.J and Derek was probably heading over to Penelope to tell her what just happened. He could care less, he needed to work, and they all needed to work judging by the way Hotch walked into his office.

__

You had woken up near noon to a text that simply read; Hello.(: It was short, sweet, and from Spencer. To be fair, he had mentioned that he wasn’t the best with texting people, so the fact that he sent you a text said something.

You didn’t want to seem too eager as you texted Hey, did you have lunch yet?

You set the phone down, trying to get over the initial feeling of embarrassment that caused your cheeks to flush, remembering in a second that you were a nerd. You couldn’t text people for shit and as you stared at the message you had just sent Spencer it showed.

You sat up, sliding off to the edge of the bed, hand reaching for the phone as another chime made your heart burst. No, I spent lunch on a plane to Georgia.

Georgia?

Chime.

We got another case and the whole team is running on coffee.

Eat something soon.

Chime.

Can’t ignore a demand like that.

Good, don’t.

Chime.

Text me later?

Absolutely (:

You pressed your lips together, fighting back the growing smile on your lips as you left your phone on your bed, today already seemed promising.

Being out yesterday made you realize how much you missed being outside, the only downside was it took forever for you to get anywhere. So, you called your mom out for lunch. You found the slow walking easier to deal with when you were talking to someone else and she was worried about you, so it was a win-win.

The restaurant was crowded, crowded areas usually made you feel nervous like you were being watched. Being watched wasn’t so bad, being kidnapped was worse, and being physically abused was worse than being kidnapped. So you could deal with some crowds.

Certain things kept catching you by surprise, like the way slow-moving cars rolling down the street made you tense up, and the way you clenched your jaw as the waitress’s name tag shined ‘Heather’.

Your mother was kind enough to reach over the table to hold your hand in hers, a smile brightening her eyes effortlessly, “You look lovely today,”

You let out a small sigh and shrugged “I had a good morning,”

“Really?” she repeated, smile growing wider.

“Yeah,” you squeezed her hand gently “I went out for coffee yesterday with Spencer, too.”

“The F.B.I agent, Spencer?” You nodded quickly, hand leaving hers as you looked through the menu. “Was this a date?”

“Mom,” your eyes peered up at her, lips turned down into a gentle frown “I just went through something very traumatic, I don’t think it was a date.”

“What was it then?”

“A friend, being nice to another friend.” You replied quickly, trying to move your focus back onto the menu in your hands. You heard a small sound from your mother that reassembled an ‘okay’ before she went silent, but you could tell she was burning with questions.

You didn’t blame her, you never got out much but when you did, she was the first one to know. You had mentioned over the phone last night that the two of you were friends and he was helping you through so of the tougher things that recovery involved, but she seemed to ignore that then. You had yet to mention the addictive tendencies you were feeling, the yearning for a release, an outlet of some kind. You knew it would break her heart, so you kept quiet.

“I like him,”

“Mom,” you scolded with a smile, setting down the menu. “You met him once.”

“And he made a good impression,”

“You left the room!”

“I can read body language,”

“Okay, mom,” You scoffed as you took a sip of your water.

“All I’m saying is,” she put her hands together “Recovering doesn’t mean you have to ignore every opportunity that comes your way because you don’t think it’s the right time.” She met your eyes and let out a tiny laugh, “I know you and you won’t let anything happen if you feel like it’s not the right time, sometimes it’s not a bad thing to let things happen. Romantic things or otherwise.”

You opened your mouth to say something but instead, you let out a tiny sigh, nodding slowly. She didn’t need to know how miserable the night made you, how suffocating a day alone was for you, so you nodded. After all, maybe she was right, she was your mother.

[jiangchengrights]

i wake to you at dawn

also available on ao3

“Alright, I get it,” Wei Ying mumbles to herself from where she lays, half of her face shoved into the pillow beneath her head, the other half just barely illuminated by the screen on her phone, “This dog is friends with that other dog now. Whoop de-fucking-do.”

Usually, these soft animal videos on Instagram don’t annoy her that much, even when they are about dogs, but she’s seen this specific post about fourteen times tonight. She can recite by memory the posts that come after it (a celebrity laying out in the sun, the tagline only the sunflower emoji, followed by one of Wen Qing, looking stern but fond as her lap is completely covered by both Wei Ying and Wen Ning, the tagline for that being ‘Reluctant jie’, and so on and so on) because she’s been frenetically refreshing all of her social media apps in order; she now knows the current lineup of instagram posts and tweets in her feed and has seen every godforsaken not-actually-that-interesting story of all of her friends (which isn’t fair to them, really, considering all of the important ones are here trapped in this same hotel as Wei Ying).

“Oh my god,” Jiang Cheng grumbles from the other side of the room where he lays on his bed (because of course he’s a part of her bridal party. Kind of. He’s walking her down the aisle tomorrow which, okay, makes him technically not a part of her party but she wasn’t about to let him skate free the night before her wedding)(or any of her bridal functions)(not that she needed to worry: he’d taken all planning rights away from her for her bridal shower and bachelorette party, he’d only tolerated the help of shijie) and throws his extra pillow at her, “If I have to hear that fucking dog video one more time, I swear to god, I’ll break your kneecaps. Do you hear me? I’ll have to drag you down the aisle tomorrow because you won’t be able to walk.”

“I thought you liked dogs, Shidi,” she replies, shifting ever-so-slightly so that she can squint at him past her phone.

“Wei Wuxian-”

“A-Cheng, A-Ying,” Shijie hums soothingly, from the other side of the room, “Please rest, for me. Your Shijie needs sleep too.”

“And if you don’t,” Wen Qing pipes up, “I know other ways to make you shut up.”

“Okay, okay,” Wei Ying whines, locking her phone with an audible click and resting it on the pillow next to her head, “I’ll try to sleep. For Shijie.”

Wei Ying does not sleep. She tries, she really does. Turns off all the lights and all the sounds and everything shiny that could keep her just engaged enough to stay awake. She tries to listen to the steadying breathes of her bridal party around her; Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang lay on the bed to her left, Shijie and Wen Qing to her right, Wen Ning passed out on the floor (he’d been invited, truly, to sleep in the empty spot next to her, only he’d fallen asleep long before everyone else and moving him to an actual bed proved to be very difficult when all the adults in the room were half (three fourths) wine drunk and giggling, so they’d just put a pillow under his head and wrapped him in their softest blankets and left it at that). She practices all the meditation tricks Lan Zhan had taught her; tries to calm her mind and her breathing and her heart.

It doesn’t work.

God, she wishes to herself, regardless of however illogical it may be, I wish Lan Zhan was in my bridal party.

With a sigh, she spends some time reflecting. She’s made so many bad decisions in her life, ones that have resulted in no less than three broken arms (sorry A-Cheng), many school detentions, almost getting expelled from university, a car accident that had left Shijie with seatbelt burns and a black eye from the airbag and Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, had left Lan Zhan, who’d been sitting prim and proper in the back seat, with scars that still lingered across the expanse of her back in the shape of all of Wei Ying’s nightmares. She’d chosen to hide away after that for three years in a different city with different hair and a different smile on her face and pretend like she didn’t feel a bone crushing loneliness in her entire being every time she thought of her Shijie, and didi, and her Lan Zhan who wasn’t really hers anymore, and that fact that in her self imposed exile she would never seen any of them again. That was, until Lan Zhan found her and dragged her back home and made her whole again.

Wei Ying was always whole, Lan Zhan would say, has said, I just helped Wei Ying find a way back. Will always bring Wei Ying back.

But with all that behind her and mostly wrapped up, this, tonight, right here, feels like her worst idea yet. She’d been so confident too! Had fought every naysayer, including Lan Zhan herself, with a cocky smile and a wave of her hand.

Brides shouldn't see each other the night before the wedding! She had laughed, and then laughed harder when Lan Zhan’s fingers had tightened where they dug into her hip, Besides, we’re not one of those couples! We can handle one night apart!

And she had been right, for the most part. Of course she missed Lan Zhan, but a night spent apart, having fun with her little family, all of them basking in the shared excitement of her impending nuptials. What she hadn’t anticipated was trying to sleep without Lan Zhan beside her, not when she’s this nervous, hadn’t thought about how deeply she would miss Lan Zhan’s warm weight behind her, her steadying arm firm around her waist, holding Wei Ying together like she did every night. She feels the absence with every shift of her hips that press backwards into nothing, every time she throws an arm out to rest on an empty pillow and the fact that there are no warm, soft, calves to ruthlessly shove her cold toes against.

By the time she picks up her phone again, everyone in the room is peacefully asleep and the  clock on her bedside table blinks 2:36, proud and red and rude, if you ask Wei Ying. She gives up on sleep and starts mentally calculating exactly how much concealer she’ll need to cover the bags under her eyes. After all, she wants to look her absolute best for Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan who is so steady and warm and beautiful, Lan Zhan who could open her mouth wide and eat Wei Ying’s entire heart in one bite but doesn’t, instead offering her own heart up on a silver platter for Wei Ying.

Wei Ying opens their messages on her phone, reads through the last few, laughs at the pictures she’d sent earlier in the night of Nie Mingjue, eyes half lidded with alcohol, laying messy kisses to the side of Xichen-ge’s face, who seemed to be accepting them with grace and only slightly tinged red ears. She taps her fingers on the screen, starting a message, lan zhan i can’t slee-

She doubles back, erasing it, deciding she doesn’t need to be whiny the night before their wedding, when Lan Zhan is surely asleep anyways. Again she starts, good early morning, lan zhan! i can’t wait to see you in your-

Too much, that is utterly too much. i love you, she types, hesitates with her thumb over the send button. What if the sound of her phone wakes Lan Zhan up? What if then Lan Zhan can’t fall back asleep? What if Lan Zhan tosses and turns all night and ends up with a headache, overtired on their wedding day of all times? What if this texts absolutely ruins everythi-

Her phone sounds, the little swooping noise it makes when she receives a new message on the thread she’s already looking at. She looks down and finds a link from Lan Zhan to a video of baby bunnies playing together with a message that says, When we return from our honeymoon, I think it is time we get another bunny. Possibly two.

And well. Her decision is made for her really. If Lan Zhan is awake, laying in her own bed in a room on the other side of the hotel, fighting off insomniatic boredom with bunny videos, there’s no way Wei Ying can stay here and allow them both to suffer.

She finds herself glad that Wen Ning is on the floor, though it looks a tad uncomfortable, because she’s able to slip out of bed with ease, bare feet silent on the carpeted floor. The only thing she grabs is her phone, not even bothering to try to find her shoes in the colossal mess that is her dark bridal room, littered with take out and bottles and stripped off clothing. Her nose crinkles, amused, when she thinks of the look of reprove she’ll surely get from Lan Zhan when she realizes Wei Ying walked around barefoot.

She manages to zigzag her way to the door without stepping on anything or making any noise, a feat she will congratulate herself on later. The door opens slowly, making the barest hint of noise as yellow hotel-hallway light floods the entrance to the room. Wei Ying pumps her fist, gloating at being able to sneak out without a single one of her party-poopers (read: caring family) waking up to ruin it for her and make her climb back into her own bed.

That is, until she catches Nie Huaisang’s eyes, watching her from where he lays next to Jiang Cheng. The most dangerous opponent, really, because with one shove of his arm he’d have Jiang Cheng up and yelling, alarming the whole room before she’d even make it to the elevator. She’s not sure she knows the layout of the hotel well enough to make it safely inside Lan Zhan’s room before one of them caught her.

Silent, slow, she moves one finger up to place over her lips, keeping eye contact with Nie Huaisang the whole time. She pleads with him from across the room, imploring him to be cool. He blinks, once, twice, slow like a cat in the sun, and then closes his eyes a third time for good and raises one, slow, thumbs up to her.

Her sigh of relief is the last noise in the room before she shuts the door and power walks to the elevator at the end of the hallway. She is going to buy him the biggest fruit basket. She dances by herself once inside the elevator, suddenly feeling cold and exposed in her red silk sleep tank and shorts, goosebumps prickling her arms and thighs. If only Lan Zhan’s room wasn’t so stupidly far away.

Of course her room has to be far away! Jiang Cheng had yelled when Wei Ying whined about it, the second you start drinking all you want to do is sit in her lap! You’re lucky I’m letting her party stay in the same hotel as yours!

And well, he hadn’t been wrong, per say, she thinks to herself as she tiptoes off the elevator and down the maze-like hall to get to Lan Zhan’s room. She still didn’t appreciate the distance though. She quietly tap taps on the door with one hand, pressing send on a text with the other that reads, lan zhan let me in lan ZHAN!!!

The door opens before her hand has even fallen back to her side. And there is her Lan Zhan, in soft cloud print pajamas pants and a white t-shirt, hair drawn up into a neat bun, eyes tired but awake.

“Wei Ying,” she says, the smile in her voice all Wei Ying needs to know about her welcome. She slides closer, wrapping her arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, grinning when she feels the others arms sneak around her waist.

“Mmm, Lan Zhan,” she hums against Lan Zhan’s neck, moving up to her tiptoes so she can nuzzle her nose against the corner of Lan Zhan’s jaw, “I’m tired, let’s go to bed.”

“I thought I was not supposed to see the bride the night before the wedding,” Lan Zhan replies, but she’s already inching backwards into the room, dragging Wei Ying along with her.

“Who ever said that?” Wei Ying asks, knowing full well she was the one who said that, a smile on her face when she lets Lan Zhan drop her into bed.

“Besides,” she says, once Lan Zhan is settled beside her, reaching one hand up to pet the side of Lan Zhan’s face, thumb rubbing gentle circles across the expanse of Lan Zhan’s cheekbone, “Does it count if there’s two brides? I don’t think so, we cancel each other out, see? If anything we have to do the opposite, you know, we have to see each other extra hard tonight.”

“Hmm,” Lan Zhan hums, her lips pulling up ever so slightly on one side as she leans in to rest her forehead against Wei Ying’s, legs tangling together, one hand sliding underneath Wei Ying’s shirt to spread warm and wide and firm in the valley between her shoulder blades, “Is that so?”

“Yes, tonight we have to,” Wei Ying nods, finally allowing her eyes to close as she presses further into Lan Zhan’s embrace, sleep finally weighing on her shoulders. She lets her head drop down, lips brushing against Lan Zhan’s collarbone, breathing her words right into Lan Zhan’s chest, “And every night too. I’ll tack that on for free, Lan Zhan, every night.”

“Yes, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan sighs against her hair and melts under Wei Ying’s nimble fingers, relaxed at once with the promise of forever, “Every night.”

“I love you,” Wei Ying whispers, one final thing, around a yawn and finally, finally settles for the night. She almost misses Lan Zhan’s whispered reply, I love you too.

But she doesn’t. She never wants to miss a single thing Lan Zhan has to say.

Coda:

For all of fifteen seconds, the world is warm and bright and everything good when Wei Ying wakes up. Toned legs tangle with her own and a soft hand pets her hair away from her face, gentle and comforting again and again. She herself is pressed messily against Lan Zhan’s chest, quite possibly, embarrassingly, drooling ever so slightly. She does not have time to register this, however, before the banging starts.

“Wei Wuxian, I know you’re in there!” comes a belt from the other side of the door, that has her shooting up in an awkward half sitting position, splayed on one-fourth on the bed and three-fourths in Lan Zhan’s lap. Lan Zhan’s hands act as a steadying force, one on her hip, the other on her back, as she blinks deliriously around the room.

Nie Mingjue seems to be in a similar position, probably blinking off a hangover and propelling up from his sleeping position, glaring around the room like he might find the source of their disturbance somewhere inside. Jin Zixuan, on the other hand, groans loud and long, pressing his pillow over his ears.

“I see you are up,” Lan Xichen smiles from the little table where he sits, drinking his cup of tea peacefully, unperturbed by the pounding on their door, “I hope you rested well.”

“I did, thank you Xichen-ge,” Wei Ying tries to laugh around the blush high in her cheeks, only now really registering the fact that Lan Zhan was also sharing a room and not, in fact, alone just waiting for Wei Ying to traipse her way in.

But when she looks down at the woman laying beside her, she sees none of her own embarrassment reflected there, only a fond smile and a soft hand reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ears. Huh, she thinks, revising her earlier thoughts, maybe not alone but definitely waiting for me.

“Wei Wuxian!” comes again from outside the door, though this time it just has her laughing, pushing into Lan Zhan’s hands like a cat.

“When did you get here?” Nie Mingjue asks, rubbing at his eyes. But he stands and stumbles his way over to Xichen and the tea and doesn’t seem particularly hard pressed for an answer, so Wei Ying ignores it.

“Hi, we’re getting married today,” she says instead, meeting Lan Zhan’s smile with her own.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan hums while the banging on the door stops. Finally, Wei Ying sighs, leaning down to press her lips against Lan Zhan’s, chaste because they are still in front of Lan Zhan’s brother and her brother in law. She’s still there when the door pops open, revealing a quietly furious Wen Qing.

“Wei Wuxian,” she seethes, taking calculated steps closer, “You were supposed to stay in your bed.”

“I did!” Wei Ying says, smiling wide to prove her innocence, “Lan Zhan is my bed!”

“I am going to-” Jiang Cheng barges through, leaving no one to hold the door open; it swings heavily back straight towards Jiang Yanli.

Before Wei Ying can even shout a disgruntled hey! Jin Zixuan, who was already on his way to the door, catches it with his hand and leads Jiang Yanli inside with a gentle hand and a soft smile that makes Wei Ying want to puke.

But Yanli-jie smiles back, big and happy and unashamed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, “Hello, husband.”

“Good morning, A-Li,” he says back, wistful and dopey as he leads her inside with a soft hand on the small of her back. Right in that moment, Wei Ying decides maybe she doesn’t hate him. For now.

“Sorry, Shijie,” Jiang Cheng responds, automatic when he looks back but Jiang Yanli waves him off with a forgiving smile.

“I know it wasn’t on purpose A-Cheng.”

The commotion leaves Wei Ying relaxed in a way she should have known better than to be, because all too soon she is being hoisted away from her warm spot on the bed and dragged out of the room.

“You promised, Wei Wuxian!” Wen Qing snaps, but Wei Ying can already hear the forgiveness in her voice, the amusement. Wei Ying lets herself be dragged along, barefoot again, back to her own room. And then because honestly she’s a little on the edge of too-excited and too-in love she shouts over her shoulder:

“I’ll see you at the end of the aisle, Wife!” and maintains vision of the room just long enough for Lan Zhan, who’d pushed herself into an upright position, turn red and drop back down into the bed with a gasp, like all of the air had been knocked out of her.

Wei Ying’s cackles are only rivaled by the quiet, but pleased chuckles from Lan Xichen.

“Do you have to be such an annoyingly sweet couple every single day?” Wen Qing huffs, letting go of her (fake, Wei Ying is pretty sure) anger entirely, sliding her arm up so they can lock elbows, walking arm and arm back to Wei Ying’s room.

Wei Ying thinks of Lan Zhan, warm around her and ever inviting, even if it was 2AM, even if Wei Ying looked like a ragamuffin, even if, even if, and smiles wide, cheesy, deliriously with all the right decisions she’s made in this life and says, “Yes.”

[supposed2bfunny]

2doc Week Day 5- Vacation

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mentions of sex and drugs/drug addiction 

“Can I be honest?” Stu asked, licking spicy red sauce off his fingers as he passed what remained of his bomba to Murdoc.

“Uh-oh,” the bassist looked at him wearily as they wandered through Parc Güell. “Here it comes.”

“Relax. I was just going to say, I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have thought Barcelona would be your first choice.”

Murdoc chewed the last bites of the potato croquette and tossed the empty container in a nearby trashcan. “Well, it was this time around. You chose Jamaica for our anniversary, I chose Spain for the anniversary of, erm, ‘D-Day.’” He tapped a finger against the singer’s temple playfully, looking into his black eyes, the result of an act of stupidity that had happened over two decades ago that they had celebrated every since.

“It was a good choice,” the singer confessed. “The castle was really cool, and I didn’t really understand most of that Dalí museum, but it was colorful. The food’s been great and the beaches in Spain are always wonderful.”

“And look at that view,” Murdoc exclaimed, sitting down on the mosaic-covered bench to point at a particularly stunning vista of the city. “You can’t beat that!”

“Yeah, that’s pretty, for sure.”

“Get in the shot, Stu, let’s get another picture for Twitter!”

“Murdoc, you’ve posted like two hundred pictures of me today alone; your followers are going to hate you!”

“Half of ‘em already do, bluebird,” he quipped with a smirk, merrily snapping away regardless of his boyfriend’s protests.

“Okay, fine, but I want a picture of the two of us,” he said after a few poses. He approached the man on the bench, reaching for his phone. “Can you figure out how to flip the camera or do you need me to—”

“I know how to get it to Selfie Mode, mate, I’m not that old!”

“Did you just call the front-facing camera ‘Selfie Mode?’”

Murdoc glared, but only for a moment, because then Stu was guiding his hand so that the angle was perfect: a shot of the two of them, cheek-to-cheek and giddy, and a view of the city behind them. They snapped one picture, two. Murdoc turned, kissed Stu’s cheek (the picture would become his home screen approximately two minutes later), then licked his cheek, earning a squeal.

“Don’t be gross when we’re in a public park!”

“Honestly, Stu, I’ve never heard such a boring string of words come out of your mouth,” he teased.

“You avoided my question,” the singer complained as they continued their walk.

“Which was?”

“Why Spain? I love it. I’m not complaining. I’ll definitely want to do this again. But why?”

Murdoc looked around, watching a small guided tour weave its way through the park, watching vacationing families with matching shirts, watching young couples, presumably on honeymoons. It was strange to observe all these people; somehow when he took trips alone with Stu, it often felt like the two of them had the world together in spite of crowds.

“We came here to promote Demon Days,” he finally said.

“Yeah. I remember that. We traveled all over Europe to promote that,” he replied.

“But it was here, in Barcelona that we started hooking up.”

Stuart slowed down then, watching the bassist carefully and struggling to remember. Those early days were a blur for him. His attempts to balance medications to keep the migraines at bay during their debut album had turned into a dangerous addiction by the second album, and whole weeks were often gone from his memory, sounding fresh when one of his bandmates would bring up a party or an interview that he couldn’t recall being present for.

“I think I remember that…we were in the hotel by the water, right? So we stayed here more than a day...”

“We were scheduled to be here four days, three nights,” Murdoc helped him out, pausing to purchase some bottled water from a cart as the heat of the day wore on. “You and I stayed an extra two days.”

Stu furrowed his brow. “Why?”

Murdoc took a sip of water, passed the bottle to the younger man. “Because you and I spent almost the entirety of the trip in my hotel room, bluebird.”

Just like that, an image of the hotel’s interior jogged his memory, and he could remember kissing Murdoc feverishly in the elevator, breaking apart when they stopped on a floor to pick up a large family before finally making it to their own floor. He could remember the master bathroom in Murdoc’s hotel suite, and taking a shower with the bassist in there. He could remember ordering room service when they were famished from their activities, and he distinctly remembered them sharing a plate of cheeses, olives, and fruit, feeding each other and giggling and kissing like lovesick teenagers.

“Oh my god,” he exclaimed. “Yeah! Now I remember! That trip was amazing! We stayed an extra two days to fuck more, not to see the sights. We went the to the beach like, once that whole time we were here.”

“Yeah,” Murdoc agreed, giving him a strange look. “I think about that trip a lot.”

“Why? Why Barcelona specifically?”

Murdoc stopped at the top of a staircase to take a few pictures of one of the dozens of Gaudí sculptures (and also to catch his breath, Stu assumed, given the rapid rise and fall of his shoulders). “Because on that trip, that’s when I realized that you were it.”

The singer stepped a little closer, letting his arm bump the older man’s. It was making his head spin to think about how close they had been, yet how emotionally distant they still were all those years ago. “Speak up, Muds,” he implored. “I want to understand.”

With a sigh, the bassist turned to look at him, clearly a little embarrassed. “Watching you sleep in the mornings when the sun rose, spending that much time with you. Mate, I knew it then. That I was never going to feel as strongly about anyone else in the world as I did about you. I knew you were the only one I would ever love.”

Stu felt his mouth go dry despite the water bottle he had been guzzling. “Oh…”

“I know,” he added quickly, “I didn’t say anything to you, so obviously nothing came of it. Not right then, anyway. I was too scared to put myself in a position like that. Especially back then! My old man was still alive, I wasn’t on meds so the hallucinations were still fucking commonplace, and also…” he let his arms drop to his sides as he looked out at the spires and palm trees wistfully.

“Go on, lovely thing.”

“I assumed that you felt it too,” he said, sounding so sad that the singer hooked an arm around his waist and pulled him close despite the hot sun. “I thought you could feel what I was feeling, so when we left Spain and continued traveling through Europe and you went back to shagging birds and acting like nothing had happened…”

“It’s all coming back to me,” he admitted. “You were insufferable after that trip. Oh god, the next few weeks, you gave me and everyone around you absolute hell. I didn’t realize you were acting out because you were frustrated with me. Muds, if you’d just told me how you felt—”

“It doesn’t matter!” he snapped. “It’s all in the past. I got a taste of what it was like to hold you for a night without all the commitment crap. Anyway, we couldn’t stay apart for long, could we?”

“We hooked up again as soon as we were back at Kong,” the singer agreed with a smile. “And all through the music video shoots. We couldn’t keep away from one another.”

“It was only a matter of time before you returned my feelings,” Murdoc joked.

“Maybe in time, you’ll want to be mine.”

“That’s it.” He agreed quietly.

A soft wind blew, and Stu brushed his bangs out of his face, brow furrowed in thought. “I never realized,” he confessed. “I thought you hated me back then, Muds.”

“I never hated you, you daft twat. Only resented you a tad. The sun might be hot in the middle of the day, burns and makes us sweat and complain, but we need it so we can snap shots like this for Instagram,” he broke away to take a picture of some flowers, leaving Stu to contemplate the metaphor that he had very intentionally cut short.

“Well, I’m sorry your first trip to Barcelona didn’t work out the way you wanted,” he said. He walked up behind the bassist, so when Murdoc turned around, he was right there, tall enough to block out the sun, dark eyes fixed on the older man. “But I hope this trip makes up for it.”

He had intended to kiss his boyfriend then, but it felt too aggressive given the history that they shared in the city, too much like something that he would have done when he was younger and wilder and always carrying switchblades around for no good reason. Instead, he took Murdoc’s hand and kissed it. They were in a country filled with castles; let him act like a prince for once in his life.

It did the trick, because Murdoc’s eyebrows shot up behind his fringe and he sputtered uselessly, too flustered for words for a shocking five, ten, fifteen seconds.

“You incorrigible sap,” he finally managed. Quite mild as far as Murdoc Insults went.

“That’s me,” he replied with a grin, and Murdoc was already lacing their fingers together, guiding them out of the park and to their next destination in the city. “Thank you for telling me all that. Makes me all the more eager to savor every second of time with you now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunted, “Don’t be too cheesy or I’ll toss you into one of the fountains.”

Stu laughed. “Fine. Where are you taking me next?”

“First, lets get some ice cold cervezas. Then, I’m thinking a siesta before we hit the beach.”

“Sounds perfect. Y’know, you’re actually quite good at planning these tips, Muds.”

“Of course I am,” Murdoc replied, swinging their hands between them as they walked, uncharacteristically playful. “I’ve been planning how I would woo you since the first time we stepped foot in this city, mi corazón!”

[sad-goomy]

gala - part 1/2

Pokemon Sun+Moon Pairing: Lonashipping (GladionxMoon) Warning(s): Moon says a bad word because she’s a ruffian A/N: The first of a little two-shot. Moon and co. are ~16, Gladion is ~17, and none of that really comes up but it can’t hurt to know.

In helping Professor Burnet and Kukui with their fieldwork, Moon has witnessed some brutal battles between wild Pokemon.

All of them look like child's play compared to the battle of wills happening between Gladion and Lillie.

"I'm not going," he snaps.

"It's not optional," she counters.

Moon looks between the two, feeling more than a little uncomfortable as she's caught in the middle of the table. When Lillie had texted her about meeting up for lunch with Gladion, it hadn't sounded like she meant to start an all-out war. Within minutes of them sitting at their table, however, Lillie sprang into attack mode, clearly exasperated with her older brother, and Gladion put up an iron defense, clearly unwilling to yield to his younger sister.

The waiter had looked more than a little scared to approach their table, and Moon gave him a sheepish grin as she told him, "We're going to need a few minutes."

Gladion rolls his eyes, muttering, "You know I hate these charity galas, and it's never been a problem that I don't go."

"But you're the president! If you never show your face at the galas, we lose credibility." Lillie tugs at the Alola champion's sleeve, pouting as she says, "Moon, I need you to talk reason into him."

"Why me, exactly?" the dark-haired girls asks with a raised brow. I just wanted to eat lunch, not join the debate team, she adds in her mind, trying to ignore her stomach growling.

The blonde girl sighs, explaining, "You're probably the person Gladion most respects."

The young man's cheeks take on a shade of pink as he warns, "Lillie –"

"Oh don't pretend it's not true," she argues, and Moon has to fight to keep a smile from growing on her face. Lillie picks up her menu, adding with angry resolution, "And I'm done speaking to you until you agree to go. Good luck, Moon."

Gladion looks over at the region's Champion, who looks back at him with a blank stare, clearly still caught off guard by the sudden demand. She sighs, placing her elbows on the table and imploring him with her eyes as she mumbles, "She has a point, you know; you're the president, it's one of your obligations."

He knows both girls have a point, but he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. "I know, and I've tried my best to be the 'face of the foundation' as Lillie puts it, but I can't handle an entire night's worth of idle small talk and pretending to be an extrovert."

"But Lillie's supposed to?" Moon counters. Gladion bites his tongue, because they both know she's won just by reminding him of the burden it places on his younger sister. Her gray eyes grow softer as she asks, "What would make it easier for you?"

Suddenly he refuses to look at her, picking up his menu and deciding it's the most interesting thing to read. His hands are shaking ever so slightly, and he mumbles something under his breath. Moon tilts her head, prodding, "What?"

"I said you would make it easier," he snaps, lowering the menu from his face and looking nothing short of stand-offish. Lillie conceals a knowing smile by hiding her face behind her own menu, as Moon blinks in surprise. Gladion elaborates with a roll of his eyes, "I'm supposed to have a date, and I figure you'll be the least annoying. I also know for a fact that people actually like you, so I'm sure that'll help when I start shutting down for the night and can't handle any more schmoozing."

"Now that's a good idea," Lillie coos, closing her menu and giving Moon a smile as she adds, "Oh, and I can help you find a dress, of course, and brush up on your dancing, and we might even have time for a quick lesson in etiquette!"

Gladion smirks as Moon's head spins from the realization that she's been dragged into the mess herself, but before she can open her mouth to argue, the waiter has returned, looking less frightened as he asks them, "Are you three ready?"

Moon looks up at him, her eyes still wide in shock. "No. No, I'm really not."

She's out of her element immediately, and Hau isn't helping.

"Seriously? You won't let me challenge you because you're too busy waltzing?"

Moon gives the boy a deadpan glare as she states in a perfect monotone, "I'm not going to battle you because you challenged me three days ago and had your ass handed to you."

Lillie frowns, shutting off the music as she crosses the Champion's room to address Hau. "She's attending the Aether Foundation charity gala, and considering the state of her dancing, she needs as little distraction as possible."

"Gee thanks Lillie."

Hau cracks a grin, laughing, "Aw, lighten up! Tell you what, I'll be totally silent. I just wanna watch Moon trip over her feet."

The Aether Foundation's head of PR crunches her nose in thought, giving the energetic young man a once-over before nodding. "Go sit, and please don't distract us."

"Promise," he tells her, all too eager to take a seat in the Champion's throne with a brilliant smile.

Moon frowns. "Why don't I get a say in this?"

"He's promised to behave," Lillie tells her, walking back to the music player she's set up and restarting the classical song from the beginning. She walks back to Moon, explaining, "You'll have to do this in front of a crowd in two days, so it will help to have a smaller audience now as you practice."

"Hau counts as at least twenty people," she counters, but takes her position, allowing Lillie to lead as they begin to slowly spin and twirl across the floor.

Moon gains confidence in her movements, and even begins to look up at Lillie rather than down at her feet. The blonde young woman smiles, encouraging the Alola Champion as they pick up speed. However, once Moon steps out for a twirl, she feels her feet trip up and she goes tumbling to the ground with a yelp, managing to take Lillie down with her and the two ending up in a heap of tangled limbs on the floor.

They hear howling laughter from the side, and Moon groans when she sees that Hau has just finished taking a video of the incident, and types into his phone before looking over at the two as he wipes the remnants of his laughing tears from his eyes. "I think you're ready," he jokes.

Lillie gives her friend an encouraging smile as they both stand, dusting themselves off. Moon, however, feels her heart growing heavier by the second, and the weight of everything she's failed to learn piles up on her shoulders. She looks over at Hau and asks with a frown, "Who did you send that to?"

"Just Gladion." His phone emits a beep and he grins, opening up a message. "Speak of the devil." He reads over it and lets out a chuckle, looking over at the two young women and announcing, "He says that if you dance like that at the gala he might get to leave early from a broken leg."

Moon starts thinking that maybe faking her death to try and get out of this isn't such a bad idea after all.

"Don't tell me you're actually upset about all of this."

Moon looks over to the doorway of her porch where Gladion stands with a raised brow and his hands on his hips. She rests her chin on her drawn up knees, her arms holding them close to her chest as she mutters, "This is all your fault, you know."

He rolls his eyes, but admits all the same, "I realize that. Glad to see you're handling it well."

"I take it Lillie told you about my incompetence with etiquette, two left feet, and inability to look good in any dress that costs over twenty dollars?"

"She told me you were frustrated," he states simply, stepping onto the veranda and taking the seat next to her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Gladion looks over at her, looking genuinely surprised when she continues to stare blankly out at the ocean. "Arceus, this is really bugging you, isn't it?"

Moon steals a glance at the older boy as she admits, "I've never felt so stupid in my life." She shakes her head, ranting, "Everything about this just reminds me of how out of my comfort zone this gala is going to be. I never grew up going to dinner parties or learning ballroom dancing; Lillie keeps telling me that I'll be fine, but I feel like I'm just going to embarrass myself tomorrow night." With a sigh, she looks down at the floor. "I'm going to embarrass you."

Gladion frowns. "That's not possible."

"Well, with my dancing it looks like I'll end up injuring you before I get the chance to be embarrassingly bad," she mumbles, looking over at the young man when he lets out a rare chuckle. Though she feels triumphant in making the stone-faced boy laugh, Moon goes back to frowning at the ocean, the problem of her being completely incompetent still eating at her mind like a Rattata.

He notes her annoyed expression, and sighs, admitting, "You know, you're not the only one who isn't suited for this."

"But you grew up with this, right?" she argues, beginning to realize that this whole ordeal has also made her incredibly self-conscious of her far humbler childhood. "Lillie talked about how you two have had all this socialite nonsense ingrained in you since birth."

He raises a brow. "Nonsense is a fitting word for it," he mumbles, before sighing and turning to look at her, almost annoyed as he explains, "Believe it or not, I've never been very social."

"Really? I can't imagine," she sarcastically drawls, and the scowl he gives her only fuels her smirk.

Gladion continues scowling as he looks back out to the ocean, his eyes focused on something she suspects is a memory. He tells her, "Sure, I have the rules and decorum down to muscle memory, but these things are never really about that. They're all about charisma, and networking, and as we've established, I'm about as social as an Absol. Now I also have the cherry on top of people wanting to avoid me if I don't actively force myself to play some sort of character."

She quirks a brow up. "I think you have your own charm," she tells him matter-of-factly, sending a blush to his cheeks that he tries desperately to hide.

"That puts you in the minority of people," he dismisses, adding with a smirk, "Although you tend to be the exception in most cases."

"Careful Gladion, that was almost a compliment."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he drawls, leaning back in the wicker chair and resting his chin in the palm of his hand, boring his intense gaze right through her. "I stand by what I said when I dragged you into this: people like you. As much as you deny it, you have a magnetism, and you're one of the few genuinely good people I've met in my life. I know for a fact you're going to be fine. Besides, you only agreed to this to help me, so I can't really be anything but thankful."

Her eyes widen of their own accord before becoming soft and warm as she gives him a small smile. "Thanks, Gladion."

He nods, and the two look out at the ocean, the silence between them now comfortable and helping to ease Moon.

"But if you step on my toes while dancing I'll still be annoyed."

"Fair enough."

[archonreviews]

The Archon’s Review of Drakensang.

Every two weeks, eh? Ahaha.

Drakensang (Not to be confused with Drakensang Online, which I imagine is like this game… but online; and also not with Drakengard, a game about cannibal babies killing Tokyo) is a party-based role-playing game based heavily on a German tabletop game called The Dark Eye. It takes place on the continent of Aventuria, where Germanic fantasy is the word of the day. Drakensang was developed by Radon Labs and published by DTP Entertainment.

Drakensang is a bit of an odd duck for me to try and review for a number of reasons. First, it has a wealth of history and heritage behind it that could give D&D a run for its money (little of which I bothered to research because I am secretly a lazy sot). Second, trying to find info for it was difficult, as typing “Drakensang” into Google gets you Drakensang Online 9 times out of 10, so I had to go with “Drakensang the Dark Eye” or else type the exact game element I was searching for. Third, it appeared at first to be a moderately well polished CRPG, and put me in the mind of a Bioware game; this may very well had been the wrong mindset in which to play the game. Lastly, I can’t say I was filled with confidence in the game’s quality when the first guide I read was titled “How to run on Windows 10″. But the bug in question is relatively minor and easily fixed.

First thing I want to get out of the way is, incidentally, the first major problem I have with the game: namely, the camera is absolute ass. Allow me a moment to diverge on a tangent. Allowances, in the context of people doing stuff, are elements that make a particular thing more intuitive. All games have them, and all good games have lots of them. It’s what makes them intuitive to play and easy to experience. Drakensang gives absolutely zero shits for allowances or intuitiveness, at least, where camera is concerned. See, when your game begins with the camera focused on the character, the intuitive thing is to look around using the mouse. Well, instead, Drakensang decided that it would be so much better to have to hold down the right mouse button and drag the camera around that way (I’ve been told by a dear friend of mine that this is an old-school form of camera control, but it came out in 2009, so I’m not sure it should get a pass for it). As for movement, you’ve got two options: you can click on the ground to move, but since your view is always centered on your character, this method a bit jank unless you’ve got the camera zoomed all the way out. The other way to move is to use the WASD keys. Turning took some getting used to though; you use the Q and E keys to turn left and right respectively. I would’ve called this unintuitive as well, but on reflection, it makes more sense than using the A and D keys. It’s a bit like there was one designer who wanted to rip the movement from Baldur’s Gate and another who wanted to do Knights of the Old Republic and they had to share or something. In addition, the camera doesn’t always follow the character’s movement perfectly, and if you have your character do a thing father away, the camera has a second’s brain fart before catching up.

Character creation is a lie. You get a selection of characters to choose from, and that’s your lot. Mind you, it’s a pretty expansive selection, so there’s bound to be something for you. There’s three kinds of warrior, three kinds of wizard, three kinds of rogue, three kinds of Middle Eastern dude/dudette, three kinds of Elf, three kinds of Dwarf (did I mention this was Germanic fantasy? ‘Cause it’s Germanic fantasy), a Viking, and an Amazon. What you cannot change is your character’s appearance outside of gender, and your character’s stats after selection. Oh, they’ll tell you there’s an “Expert Mode” for people who really wanna tinker with the character creation, but if you don’t immediately get overwhelmed by all the numbers and statistics the game presents you with, then you’ve obviously played The Dark Eye before, or you’re a stats major from the University of Fuck. Even then, there’s not a lot for you to actually customize. I had the game give me the full allotment of leveling points to start, giving myself as blank a slate as possible, and it still felt like I was being railroaded toward a particular character.

The tutorial is not the best. It’s entirely text based, and if you should miss something, there’s no way to recover that information short of an internet search, which as previously expressed, can be tricky.

The denseness of “Expert” character creation follows us into the game proper. While your characters have levels in the CRPG style, they don’t affect much more than stat maximums. What really counts are the numbers themselves. And there are a LOT of numbers. Also, don’t be fooled into thinking that Strength and Dexterity at all affect combat. When wielding weapons, the associated stat for that weapon is all that matters.

Now, it may sound like I’m down on this game. But here comes the mid-day twist, you chucklefucks. I actually kinda like Drakensang. Once I got past all the bits I didn’t like or find particularly engaging, I really did get lost in the story and world. Once you shift your thinking to get used to combat, and skill checks, and the controls, Drakensang really opens up, becoming a genuinely enjoyable RPG experience. When I began the adventures of Baron Splendor, Knight-Errant and Bowl-cut Owner, I was skeptical. But I powered through, and eventually found a helmet to hide his ridiculous hair, and a fun game to boot!

^(The man himself, with his stalwart companions behind him)^

The graphical quality is actually pretty dang good for a game of this age. It was probably cutting edge for the time. I think. I’ll admit, I’m not super-duper familiar with graphical standards in video games circa 2009, but it seems pretty good to me!

Combat is a straightforward affair, you rush up to the baddies and murder them with swords, axes, spells, and bows, and hope you don’t get murdered yourself. The game handles health interestingly; every time you take more damage than you have Constitution, you take a wound, which inhibits your character. Take more than four, and you fall unconscious until end of combat. But you can heal wounds using spells or bandages. This resulted in the good Baron becoming the team healer with his nigh-magical bandage and iced tea powers; tea being good for healing poison.

^(Large enemy crab; attack at all for some damage. Also, camera having a little brain fart, as mentioned earlier)^

Skill checks are the inverse of most CRPG skill checks. Instead of rolling high, you want to roll low, as your stats serve as thresholds for failure. Each skill check is governed by two or three different attributes, and failing one check of the two/three means failing the whole thing. This isn’t a bad thing, but it did take getting used to; I was wondering why my Amazon companion kept fucking up the simple act of picking flowers.

Speaking of companions, they could use some work. Their quips give them a degree of characterization, but they don’t progress as people at all. The aforementioned Amazon attaches herself to you for no good reason, and whenever you ask her why she’s hanging out with you, she gives you the same non-answer over and over again. The other companions act similarly, never actually progressing as people beyond the point you pick them up. Still, they are useful to gameplay, and I never found myself truly dragging along a sub-par companion.

The narrative is probably the game’s strongest feature. It starts with your friend, Ardo of Boarstock, writing you a letter imploring you to visit him in the city of Ferdok. By the time you get there, however, you find he’s been murdered, along with several other people in the city. Thus launches a quest full of intrigue, mystery, magic, dragons, and all sorts of other cool shit. The voice-acting is decent, but not astounding. The characters all do this weird thing when talking, however. The tend to use way too much body language, flailing their arms where a simple hand wave would’ve done. It reminds me of the so-called “Bioware face”, but in the opposite direction, with the same effect, that being the uncanny valley. Although, I’d definitely prefer over-emoting to Bioware's under-emoting.

My only real nitpick is that the difficulty tends to spike in weird places and without warning. You could be booty-blasting the entire game, and then get stumped by a rat queen and be sad forever. The rat queen is actually a notorious example, well known and bemoaned, but there are other spots where the difficulty spike has me reaching for Google.

^(The remnants of one such difficulty spike, wherein I was forced to cheese the enemy to death the Amazon off in the distance to the left and the stylish lady in the center-right. Not pictured: the Evil Tree that slaughters any characters unfortunate enough to be caught in melee)^

Another potential nitpick is that spellcasting is a chore. Every spell requires a several second animation wherein the spellcaster moves their hands around, and then another several second animation for the spellcaster to sling the spell itself, and then if it’s an offensive spell, you get to watch the spell travel lazily toward its target. Exacerbating this is a tendency on the AI’s part to go after your spellcasters without even caring about anyone in front of them. Without any form of engagement mechanics or attacks of opportunity, your spellcasters are just as vulnerable whether they’re in front or in back.

Really, I would totally recommend Drakensang to anyone with a fantasy itch who likes Germanic fantasy and playing tabletop games. Hell, this plays a lot like a pen-and-paper game directly ported over to the PC. All it’s missing is a multiplayer element, but I suppose that’s what Drakensang Online is for. That may be a bit overwhelming for some; it was overwhelming for me, at first. But after you get into the right mindset, it becomes very easy to get absorbed completing all the quests and adventuring throughout Aventuria. I would definitely play this again if I got the chance. Or rather, I’d continue playing it. As is the course for many CRPG’s, there is simply too much content to get through in one few-week period. As for what Drakensang wants to do, it seems to want to be a German Dungeons and Dragons, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, just a bit presumptuous, if anything. I mean, we have a Dungeons and Dragons. It’s a pretty rad Dungeons and Dragons. Still, I came from Drakensang  very well disposed toward it.

^(Baron Splendor, looking disappointed, trying to reach his hands through the screen to squeeze my skull, killing me instantly.)^