#being told whether we the player are in on it or regardless of if we ever even know (or if we care to pay attention)

[countdown-til-sanders-take-over]

this is a formal apology for every time i've read ur fnaf theories, gone "ah... of course! yes!" and then forgotten to respond

This is a formal apology for every time I've read one of your asks, not immediately had a TQ&/E, and forgotten to respond

[noonrise]

Another mainstream Fallout game without mulchable human enemies. Instead, there is a tight intercommunity on a much smaller map, where the player begins in long stretches of isolation. The first NPCs the player see is through the scope of their trusty rifle, with names like Bandit and Raider. It's a Fallout game.

Do you take the shot?

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 3 - ( c.s )

part two

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, a bit of drinking

neighbor/hockey!chris x fem!reader

a/n: part three baby here we go! hope you guys enjoy!! if i forgot a tag it either wouldn’t let me or i missed it (if i missed u pls comment and i’ll fix it right up). anyways kisses for u all i hope ur having a good day, my inbox is open for anything as always MWAH

@cutenote @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @breeloveschris @l9vesick @bb-1s-blog @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @annamcdonalds67 @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @luckistar-posts @angelworldspost @ponyosturniolo @rainyenthusiastdaze @heartz4chris @sturnvvz @cupidsword @wurlibydominicfike @mattswrld @yoursopretty15 @poopydroopt @latinasforchrizz @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner

it’s been a day since the kiss, and you still haven’t told a single soul. for some reason, you’re way too scared to admit what happened to your roommates, even though you know they’d be the last to judge you for it.

and yet you just can’t, despite the fact that it’s been eating you alive for over twenty-four hours straight. saying it out loud makes it real, so you decided it was best to keep it inside.

however, you still need to give chris his jersey back, which you’ve been neglecting to do because you don’t want to see him.

or maybe because you’re scared.

it’s an involuntary thought, and it makes you angry. there’s nothing to be scared of, because he doesn’t have any power over you.

right?

you grab his jersey off the top of your dresser. it’s all clean, and it still smells like detergent from when you washed it yesterday. you’ve been putting it off all day, and it’s time for that to stop.

the sun is nearly gone, so you head down the stairs, silently thankful that ramona and cassidy are both are both runnings errands as you slip out the front door.

you’re in your comfy clothes, black sweats and baby blue hoodie that you stole from cass, and you’re immediately regretting the fact that you didn’t grab a jacket.

you hurry across the lawn, passing the cars parked in the driveway. there’s an unfamiliar red one at the end, and it almost makes you pause, but the possibility doesn’t fully connect in your mind yet.

so you head up the steps and knock on the door loudly, still very much so a woman on a mission.

it takes a moment, a long moment, before someone comes to open it for you. it’s connor, which is unfortunate, because you really weren’t prepared to speak with anyone besides the one boy you’re actually looking for.

he looks a little confused, but he smiles nonetheless. “what’s up?”

“i’m just, uh, trying to drop off chris’s jersey.” any bit of confidence you had is gone now as you choke on your words.

connor’s eyes widen a little as his grin fades, though you can tell he’s trying to play it off. “he’s a little busy right now, but i’ll get it to him.”

your eyebrows furrow as he reaches his arms out, like he’s trying to rush the process along without any more interrogation.

“busy with what?” you question, though you hand it over regardless.

he looks at you for just a half a second too long, like he’s waiting for you to piece it together, and then it clicks. chris is busy because he has a girl over, and that’s her car in the driveway.

you wish it didn’t phase you, but you can feel your face morphing into an emotion that borders disgust and anger.

“oh, i see.” is all you say, because you’re already fucking embarrassed beyond belief.

you turn and head back down the stairs, trying to ignore the way your stomach is flipping like you’re going to throw up.

connor doesn’t say anything. instead you hear the door close, and you feel completely numb as you walk back to your own porch. part of it is because of the cold, and part of it is because you feel so stupid.

you’re not sure what you were expecting, but that was exactly what you should’ve anticipated knowing chris.

you step back into the warmth of your own home, and even when you close and lock the door, a shiver chases you.

you head back up to your bedroom, kicking your shoes off by the door. you want further confirmation, so you peek through the curtains that hang over your window.

chris’s room, which is coincidentally directly across from yours, reveals nothing besides a dim light that peeks through the closed blinds.

you let the drapes fall back into place, still in shock. it was so ridiculous to believe for even a second that he was any different than he had been for the last six months.

you should’ve taken him at his word. he doesn’t date, and he’s not interested in you beyond teasing you or making you look like an idiot.

and you refuse to be taken for a fool.

you pace along the floor for a second until you decide you deserve some wine. you know there’s at least half a bottle in the fridge, and maybe it’ll help you calm the hell down.

a few minutes later you’re back upstairs, huddled up in your bed with a book you had started earlier in the day, sipping from your glass as you read.

it’s hard to fall into the fantasy world you picked out at first, but then you begin to feel your cheeks flush and your eyes are suddenly devouring the words.

you’re so enveloped in the plot, completely unaware that your roommates had gotten home until ramona walks in. it startles you, so much so that you lose your page.

she pauses to take in your state; the empty glass, the minimal leftovers in the bottle you brought with you, your droopy eyes.

“wine before 7 p.m. on the lord’s day? you’re crazy.” she jokes with a grin.

you shrug, also smiling a little bit. “felt like getting a little wild.”

mona puts a hand on her hip and nods toward the door she just entered through. “well, could i maybe convince you to take this crazy train downstairs so we can catch up on VPR? we’re like, three episodes behind now.”

you snap your book closed and roll out of bed, which you can tell by her snort looks far from graceful.

“all you had to say was VPR.”

you sit at your desk, gnawing on your bottom lip as you try to focus on the stupid online homework prompts that are due soon. the overcast afternoon light pours into your room, and you hear your phone buzz against the wood.

chris

still playing hard to get?

you roll your eyes before you can help it. the text doesn’t surprise you, because he’s been messaging you for the past few days, ever since he inevitably found out you stopped by from connor.

chris

that’s clearly a yes.

you wonder how many times he’s going to text you as you put your phone down to pull your hair out of your face, tying it up at the back of your head.

once again, you hear the device vibrate, and you flip it to glance at the screen.

chris

i can see you ignoring me you know

your eyes betray you as you glance out the window, just to find chris standing in front of his own. he’s pouting at you with his phone in his hand, hair all curly and damp like he just got out of the shower.

you stand up from your chair without a second thought and take a few steps so you can yank your curtains closed.

he might refuse to believe it, but you’re not playing hard to get. you just can’t fucking stand him.

chris

now that’s just cold

come onnnnnn princess

y/n

holy shit

do NOT call me princess

chris

you love it

y/n

i hate you

chris

if you don’t stop this i’m coming over there

y/n

i’d like to see you try asshole

chris

fine.

you pull back one curtain to call his bluff, and your heart actually drops when you see that he’s not standing there anymore. that just means he’s probably on his way over already.

you have no idea if cass or ramona are home or in their rooms or what. but you do know that you’re locking your door, and if he makes it through the house undetected he’s not getting into your room.

you sit on the edge of your bed for a moment, waiting because you don’t know what else to do with yourself. and then the knock comes, right before chris twists the handle and finds it locked.

“open up.” he demands, his gruff voice muffled through the door.

“no.”

“i’ll go downstairs and get cass if you don’t let me in.” he threatens, which doesn’t really scare you.

cassidy will kick his ass out if she realizes you don’t want him here. you’ll have to explain some things, but it’s probably time to do that anyways.

“you’re being a baby and you’re wasting your time. go home, chris.” you reiterate.

“come on, i just want to talk.” he wiggles the handle once again, like that will somehow open it.

“then call a sex addiction helpline.” you reply hotly, glaring at the slab of wood that separates you as if you can actually see him, though you’re glad you can’t.

“can you please open the door?”

“nope.”

“jesus, you’re so stubborn it’s ridiculous.” he groans, and you hear his forehead thump against the door.

he’s growing frustrated now, and even though you’re heated too, you kind of love it.

“so are you! how many times do i have to tell you to leave?” you shoot back.

it’s silent for a moment, which scares you. then you hear a small sigh.

“i didn’t think i would have to do this.”

the lock on the door begins to twist and turn rapidly, and you leap forward to grab it with your hand.

chris twists it hard and your fingers fumble to keep it jammed. your thumb is already in pain, and the harder he pushes the closer you are to failing. you’re finally forced to let go as chris comes shoving his way into your room a few seconds later.

even though he stumbles slightly, he looks so proud of himself, clutching the heavy duty paper clip he used to get inside.

“there, that’s better.” he says smugly.

you watch his eyes take in your room, covered in posters and full of random artifacts, and you hate it. for some reason, it feels deeply personal.

“holy shit, why don’t you just go home already?”

it’s impossible to keep your tone level anymore as you turn away from him.

“i’m here now, so you have to talk to me.”

“no, i really don’t.” you reply before plopping down onto your mattress, crossing your arms as you lean against the headboard.

“don’t be a brat.” chris follows your lead, even though you weren’t inviting him to join you.

he falls beside you, sprawling out on his back by your feet. his shirt raises over his sweats, exposing a bit of skin above the band of his boxers, and you have to tear your eyes away.

you can feel the warmth of his body, can smell his aftershave mixed with hints of some kind of fresh body wash, and all of it drives you crazy.

you curl your body into itself so there’s as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“why are you so mad?” chris turns his head slightly so he can look at you.

“i’m not mad, you just disgust me.”

this makes him smile. “i beg to differ, i think you like me.”

without hesitation, you extend one leg to kick him in his side. even though it’s not very forceful, he lets out a little groan of surprise, hand going to rub his hip as he frowns.

“you didn’t have to kick me, damn.”

“you deserved that.” you argue, tucking your knees back to your chest.

this time he stays silent and just looks at you. his eyes scan your face, darting down to your lips every other second, and you’re suddenly very aware of your surroundings.

“what the fuck are you staring at?” you ask in a brief moment of panic.

his eyes are so unnerving. it’s like he can see right through you.

“you’re pretty.” chris shrugs before averting his gaze back to the ceiling.

your face flushes, and you force yourself to remember the embarrassment from the other day, how stupid you felt after discovering that he’s still the same old player that sits beside you now.

“shouldn’t you be giving some other girl an STD or something?” you snap, and he huffs out a breathy laugh.

“first of all, i’m totally clean. and if you’d actually let me explain, you’d realize the girl that was over on sunday is just an ex fling who was picking up some old stuff.”

his clarification shocks you, though you still don’t necessarily believe it yet. he could be lying, even though it doesn’t seem like he is.

“you’re seriously telling me you weren’t hooking up with her?” you ask.

“it was strictly platonic. nothing happened.” he confirms, shifting to face you again.

chris lifts his hand to trace gentle patterns along your shins, and you don’t shy away this time. the feeling of his palms, even when separated by your leggings, is far nicer than you imagined.

“okay.” you mutter simply.

“you’ve been ignoring me the entire week and all i get is an ‘okay’?” he halts his movements so he can curl his fingers into air quotes.

“what would you like me to say?”

“an apology would be a nice start.”

you bark out a laugh. “an apology for what? for not talking to you? because i really didn’t take you for the sensitive type.”

he just shakes his head, nudging your legs with one of his knuckles lightly. “god, you and that headstrong attitude will be the death of me.”

“can’t wait.” you quip back, and now its his turn to chuckle.

silence settles over the two of you for a moment, and you’ve been far too close for too long, so you move to stand once again.

“alright, well, we talked. time for you to get lost.” you motion toward the door.

chris sits up, running a hand through his messy hair before he replies. “look, we don’t have another game until sunday, so we’re hosting at the house tomorrow. you should come.”

you raise an eyebrow and tap your chin, like you’re really contemplating. “i’ll have to think about it.”

“please? it’ll only be fun if you go.” he flashes you a charming smile, and you hate that it actually does kind of work.

“maybe i’ll make a special appearance. maybe.” you point a wary finger at him as he gets back on his feet.

“that’s what i like to hear.” chris says, making his way toward you.

you expect him to pass right by, but he lingers, like there’s something else on his mind. he stares down at you with those big blue eyes, and you can feel yourself slipping into dangerous territory.

“is there something else?” you ask softly, and the sound of your voice is maddening to him.

you don’t even try to tempt chris on purpose, he knows this, and yet everything about you is so enticing. not to mention he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss since it happened, or that pretty little mouth of yours.

but he shakes his head again, because the things he’s thinking about you so early on in this strange relationship frighten him.

“uh, no, sorry. i’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

and then he blows right by you without waiting for a response, disappearing just as quickly as he arrived.

[looking-for-wisdom]

the “ex-something” character in disco elysium is so interesting to me because what we finally learn about the true Dora from harry’s dream sequence & conversations with the 41st precinct initially undercuts the first impression you get as a player. We learn things that makes it seem like Harry should be over her leaving. Specifically, the fact that she and Harry were never actually married and that it has been six years since she left.

Everything we’re told about Dora needs to be taken with a grain of salt, since it primarily comes from Harry. He’s an unreliable narrator and, if we had her perspective on things, there would surely be more to the story. But even with that said, I feel reasonably confident that the player’s first impression — that whoever this ex is did some damage even beyond typical breakup heartbreak — isn’t completely wrong.

We know a few things for certain. Harry was a gym teacher before they met, and Dora was the reason he joined the RCM. We can also do the math to figure out that they were together for around 12 years. Married or not, that’s a serious relationship. There are implications that Dora might have been pregnant at some point.

Dora’s family was wealthier than Harry’s, but they struggled financially when they were together. They had to rely on her parents for support.

Harry is a grown ass man who is responsible for his own choices. None of this changes that. But the way he is starts to make more sense when you consider that it wasn’t just their breakup that was traumatic. Their relationship itself seems unhealthy.

Harry clearly likes working with kids. Kim actually points out how he is easily able to connect with Cuno and the other teens in Martinase. With that in mind, I imagine he probably liked being a gym teacher. But we learn that Dora encourages him to join the RCM to do more for the greater good. Again, Harry had to agree to this — she didn’t force him to quit at gunpoint. But it rubs me the wrong way that, shortly after they start dating, she implies that his work isn’t fulfilling or important (probably patently untrue in an area where kids won’t necessarily have stable home lives). And, more than that, she suggests that joining the police is the solution.

Granted, we’re told there’s a lot of crime in Jamrock. Maybe it is as simple as her thinking law enforcement helps prevent that. But given the political tones of the game, which intentionally critique cops and the moralist forces they represent? I think it’s notable.

Speaking of which. The class difference between Dora and Harry has to be thematic. So much of the game discusses the struggle between the working class and the bourgeoisie. There’s an inherent power dynamic there. It’s her parents who are consistently paying their bills and keeping them afloat. She has an out that Harry doesn’t. Money won’t be an issue for her when they split, but Harry will be left without any support. Regardless of whether she intentionally held this over his head, this game shows that even without meaning to, the capitalist system harms the poor. That strain must be felt in their relationship, and could cause a lot of damage over 12 years.

All this to say: their relationship clearly wasn’t some fling. And, if Harry is to be believed, the blame for things falling apart was largely placed on him: working to much, not bringing home enough money, not being enough. But even if Dora wasn’t actively manipulating him and he came up with all of this on his own, I think the facts still point to a dynamic where he was made to be small in the face of a woman who came from more. Their backgrounds create an imbalance where Harry was always going to feel the flaws in their relationship more acutely. He starts with little, and gives up much of what he does have to pursue something better for the both of them. But when that isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, he’s the only one left with nothing. She can leave the country and start over.

It makes sense, to me, that he might not have recovered from that in six years. Especially when that rock bottom feeling seems so permanent that he isn’t trying to get better so much as numb himself enough to exist another day.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t responsible or that he’s exempt from having to get his shit together. The game very clearly illustrates that everyone will turn away from him if he doesn’t. But it does complicate his character a bit more than “got left by extremely bangable woman, proceeds to make the lives of everyone around him worse.”

[starzioo]

𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒.

These are just a ton of SFW/fluff head canons! More will be added when I think of them! Feel free to drop more in the comments! <3

THEO:

➸ Knows how you're feeling just by the look in your eyes.

➸ He loves cooking you authentic Italian food.

➸ Loves holding your hand and being clingy.

➸ One of his love languages is quality time.

➸ "Cara Mia"

➸ "mio Dio, sei perfetto"

➸ He is outrageously loyal to his close circle.

➸ This might be a beige flag, but it's just a thought I had. I can just imagine Theo being the type to jump scare you every chance he gets.

➸ He doesn't like to show it, but he actually really likes hanging out with the 1st and 2nd years. Especially the ones more on the mischievous side. Mainly because they remind him of him and the group when they were that age.

➸ This man would literally worship the ground you walk on if it made you happy.

=========

TOM:

➸ Loves to slow dance with you to the oldies playing on the record player.

➸ He's protective over you.

➸ His only goal with you is marriage.

➸ He loves to kiss your hands.

➸ Doesn't use social media.

➸ He definitely calls you Mrs. Riddle, and he definitely DOES NOT mean it as a joke.

➸ This man would 100% drop everything if you brought up hanging out with him. Study group with the boys? Count Tom out because Y/n wants to see him.

➸ He loves to spend time with you even if it's just sitting in the common room reading.

=========

DRACO:

➸ Loves to spoil you no matter what, one of his love languages is gift giving.

➸ When you show him what you're wearing for the day he loves to give you a twirl.

➸ He's constantly taking pictures of you and him.

➸ Bought you a promise ring made out of your birthstone.

➸ Loves sitting by the fireplace with you more than anything.

➸ Nobody else knows this, but he plays piano. Beautifully too, but he only plays for you.

➸ Even though you don't notice, he admires every little thing you do.

=========

LORENZO:

➸ Buys you flowers back to back. He keeps one for himself so he knows when yours die.

➸ Has written you countless love letters.

➸ Remembers all the little things that you told him, no matter how minor.

➸ Loves when you play with his hair.

➸ Made you take a painting class with him.

➸ This man loves every bit of you, and he just can't get enough. Even the things you don't like about yourself.

=========

BLAISE:

➸ He loves giving you the absolute princess treatment.

➸ Loves going on dates with you no matter the cost, and he plans them.

➸ After an argument he will own up to his mistakes and actually give you a genuine apology.

➸ Is always there to help you study.

➸ He lets everyone know that you're together, but keeps the relationship private.

➸ Even in a fight no matter how serious, he will  never lose his cool with you. He has never once actually raised his voice at you.

=========

MATTHEO:

➸ Absolutely loves to show you off.

➸ You've heard from multiple people about how highly he talks about you when you're not around.

➸ "What are we doing this weekend?"

➸ "heyy beautiful"

➸ Love to run his hand through your hair.

➸ Regardless of time or place this man NEEDS to be have some kind of contact with you whether it's just holding your hand or a hand on your thigh.

➸ Before you two actually started dating he definitely had a crush on you first.

[achlysfx]

It's unfortunate to see the Dragon Age community tearing each other apart over DA4.

While I personally understand where both sides are coming from, I'm finding content creators who've been fortunate enough to play a portion of the game the rest of us have yet to see, are not handling the concerns of most gamers as well as they could be. (Let alone, BW...)

If they're on a sort of council and under NDAs, they should be acting with professionalism at all times. Being disrespectful or borderline rude to comments they don't like is never a good sign.

It all comes down to Bioware's poor marketing surrounding Veilguard. We keep being told that the game is amazing and to take everyone's word for it, yet I genuinely have to ask - how can we?

If we look at the marketing for the prior games, or Inquisition alone, we got story teasers, gameplay combat, and proper mood/tone...and later, character trailers. Of course, a lot of players didn't like Inquisition before it launched and it ended up being a hit.

However, one person's exitement after having the privilege to play an unreleased version of DA4 is a biased view, and while I share in these influencers excitement, I believe they should also remind themselves that most gamers who are a fan of the franchise do have a right to be critical without receiving hurtful comments as a response.

We've ALL been waiting 10 years for this and with poor marketing, negative sentiment is unavoidable.

[I've seen far too many YouTube vids & comments stating the rest of the community are 'fake DA fans' simply because a lot of longtime gamers got upset over the new trailers and news that have shown nothing aside from romance & CC options. Even I'll admit that this has been an odd experience.]

On the other hand, if longtime gamers aren't allowed to express concern based off of what we've been shown so far, how is it right for influencers or those part of this new(er) community council to get upset when gamers won't throw caution to the wind and blindly take their biased (yet excited) word that DA4 will be amazing? 😅

I don't share this to downplay anyone's views on the game's status so far, but seeing more YouTube videos arise by claiming that fans who've been playing the series over a long period of time are no longer considered 'true fans' because they have concerns, doesn't help anyone.

Yes, there's going to be hateful people from both sides who will troll comments, but watching content creators getting defensive in the comments section of their own videos/posts regardless of how others act, is not professional and simply will not help support their cause of anticipation for the game.

Personally, I understand the stress under an NDA, and I've run online gaming communities a lot longer than most (current) influencers, but the key is to welcome all forms of discussion, not oppress those with concerns or different views. Yes, it can be tiresome, but if you've been placed in a position higher than the average gamer, there's still a level or responsibility in professionalism that must be maintained.

I believe most content creators have forgotten that under their frustrations surrounding Veilguard's fans. I ask that everyone respect each other, because everyone will form their own opinions regardless of whether or not someone else got a sneak peak. 💜

[Forever remaining cautiously optimistic about this long wait.]

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 27: RESIGNATION

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Pregnancy Loss, Infertility

One week later

One week passed, and you finally left the hospital after missing work and school, putting you behind with the curriculum.

During this time, Emma was looking after you, calling in sick from work herself and even Nina visited you twice, once with Connie and once with Cillian, who politely waited outside.

Seeing him still bothered you, and you were not over the fact that he had slept with his assistant, who, you knew, had it out for him, and this did not make it easy on you. You were disgusted by the sheer thought of it, him pleasuring her the way he pleasured you.

You felt disgusted, and you wondered whether he enjoyed it. Did he want her? Was she better than you in bed? She was older, sure. But was she more experienced? The answer was probably yes.

After telling Emma about these thoughts, she told you to try and forget about him. Being an actor probably made him a player, and you may have dodged a bullet when he broke up with you.

“He is not worth your tears,” she reminded you before embracing you. She had been your best friend for life, and you knew she was probably right.

You had to forget about Cillian, regardless of how hard it was or how much you were still in love with him. He was twice your age as well, and he was famous, both matters which could create much trouble for you in the future.

***

While trying to forget about Cillian, you spent most of the weekend catching up on reading the play Enda Walsh had given you to prepare for, and this play, too, reminded you of Cillian.

It was one of his own, called Disco Pigs, and you knew that this was Cillian’s first ever on-stage performance after he had dropped out of law school when he was just 19 years old.

“Christ, why?” you cursed as you put the book aside for the night, and Emma, again, reminded you that this, too, would pass.

“Try not to think of him”, she told you, but this was easier said than done as you missed him a lot and wondered whether he missed you too.

***

After a while, you got some sleep, and then, the following day, you went to school early to address your dispute with James.

James, however, tried to avoid you, and it wasn’t until you asked him whether two could talk that he pulled you aside, and you had the chance to confront him.

“Save it. I won’t say anything to anyone,” James told you before you could say anything yourself. He was squirming, and his reaction surprised you.

“Great, but why the change of mind?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Your boyfriend’s lawyer sent me a letter, but I am sure you already know that,” he told you, causing you to grin.

“No…well yes…maybe I did” You smirked while James shook his head in disbelief and told you he was embarrassed for you.

“I did see the article in the Irish Times, though,” James thus pointed out, explaining that your lover was a player, and you simply fell for his charm like a silly young girl.

“We aren’t together, James,” you felt the need to point out, but James simply shrugged it off and disappeared into the crowds. He no longer cared, and you found out later that day that he was seeing an old friend of yours.

***

Following your day at drama school, you finally went to dance school to teach the evening class. A new teacher had run the course in your absence, but you knew you could still supervise your students and review their routines even though you were not allowed to perform. You had not healed yet and were instructed to wait at least two weeks before resuming any exercise.

When you arrived at the facility, you were asked to see your employer immediately and wondered what this was all about.

You did not think that you had done anything wrong but had a bad feeling in the pits of your stomach as soon as you walked into his office.

Your employer had a stern look and asked you to sit down. A small manila folder was sitting on his desk, staring at you, and you could not help but ask whether you were in trouble.

“For a matter of fact, you are,” your boss said, and your chin dropped while anxiety filled your mind.

“What did I do?” you asked, thinking that it was because you were absent for the past week.

“It came to our attention that you had an intimate relationship with one of our student’s parents,” your employer exclaimed, and you inhaled sharply. Sweat was now building up on your forehead, and your hands started to fidget nervously. You did not know how to respond, and there was silence for a long minute.

“Of course, you have nothing to say to this, do you?” your employer asked, and you told him quickly that you regretted your intimate relationship with the student’s father.

“The problem is two-fold, Miss Y/LN. Firstly, Mr Murphy has a certain standing in the community, being an actor subject to much publicity. Secondly, he is not divorced yet, and we are, as you know, an institution funded by the Catholic Church,” your employer lectured you, seeing that the academy was attached to one of the best schools in Dublin, which, of course, being in Ireland, happened to be catholic.

“I understand, and I can guarantee you that this affair was short-lived”, you reassured your employer, who handed you a three-page document entitled “Non-Disclosure Agreement”.

“That may be the case; however, we have already found a replacement teacher for you, and your services here will no longer be needed,” your boss told you, to which you shook your head.

“You can’t just fire me,” you told him, but he begged to differ.

“I can because your intimate relationship with Mr Murphy constitutes misconduct in the workplace. But, I would much rather ask you to voluntarily resign and sign this agreement which will entitle you to redundancy pay of six weeks’ worth of wages,” your boss told you while handing you a ballpoint pen.

For a minute, you considered telling him to get lost. Still, then you read the agreement, which prevented you from speaking to the press about your relationship with Cillian and prevented him from doing the same. In addition, your employer could not issue you with a bad reference because of it, which you knew he would do if you did not sign and voluntarily walked away from your job. 

“You see, Miss Y/LN, neither us nor Mr Murphy has any interest in making this public,” your employer told you as you considered your options, taking your time.

“You have spoken to him?” you asked, surprised. You did not expect Cillian to take likely to such a threat.

“No, but I have spoken to his assistant about it, and she concurred”, your boss informed you, causing you to laugh.

“Of course, she concurred”, you chuckled before putting pen to taper. You knew you had no choice, and, at least this way, you were getting paid.

After signing the agreement, you packed up your things and left, tears streaming down your face. You loved teaching these excellent students you had, and now, all of this was coming to an end.

You were not even given a chance to say goodbye to your students, and, just as your boss’s secretary saw you out the door, some of the parents stared at you, being escorted out of the building like some criminal.

You wondered who did this to you, and, in the end, it did not matter. Your short-lived fling with Cillian slowly destroyed your life, and you regretted every moment.

It was your fault. Getting involved with him was wrong; now, you must face the consequences.

***

Unfortunately, you were not the only one to suffer from this, and just as the class commenced without you, the parents began to gossip while their children started to listen.

According to one of the mothers, she had been told by your employer’s secretary that you were fired because you slept with one of the parents.

“He is married too,” she whispered, causing Cillian’s wife, Lorraine, to chuckle.

“How typical of these young women. She is probably after money,” Danielle whispered without knowing who it was you had slept with.

Only Connie decided not to engage in the conversation, telling the others that she did not like to spread unsubstantiated rumours, and it was then that Danielle tried to catch her out.

“It may have been Dermont”, she teased, causing Connie to laugh.

“Uhm, if my husband could land the girls’ dance teacher, I would even go so far as to congratulate him on his achievement, but no, it is not Dermont. I am sure of it,” Connie chuckled, seeing that Danielle was trying to get under her skin.

“Maybe it was Cillian?” another one of the mothers then said, now teasing Danielle, who, too, began to laugh and brushed it off.

“Doubtful. My soon-to-be ex-husband is shagging his assistant, just as I had suspected all those years. Also, this rag of a dance teacher is not his type,” Danielle spat, and it was obvious to the other women who were present that she was still somewhat upset that her husband had moved on with his assistant.

“I suppose we will never find out, so how about we just leave it at that,” Connie said as she began to notice the children listening in; even though Nina was not nearby, she did not want this kind of gossip to be spread amongst the students.

***

Following a rather eventful and unpleasant evening at the dance academy, Nina threw her bag and shoes into the boot of her mother’s car, and it was apparent to Danielle that her daughter was angry and confused.

Danielle knew that Nina liked you and, with that in mind, tried to comfort her in the best possible way.

“It’s all right; you will get used to having someone else teach you. I know you liked Y/N, but she resigned, so there is not much you can do about it,” Danielle explained as they got into the car and drove to Cillian’s house, where Nina would stay for the next three nights.

“She did not resign. She got fired,” Nina pointed out angrily while playing around on her phone and texting you to see whether you were all right. After turning fourteen, she had recently joined Instagram and Facebook and added you as a friend across these platforms, occasionally sharing links with you to dance performances she liked.

“What makes you say that?” Danielle wondered before asking Nina to look at her and get off her phone.

“Oh god, Mum, I am not stupid. I heard the gossip,” Nina told her mother, who was worried about what she may have heard.

“So you know what happened?” she thus asked, gauging the situation.

“Yes, I know what happened, but I don’t know why,” Nina told her mother before accusing her of being the culprit. “Did you tell the academy? Because it seems like something you would do to get back at Dad. It’s just like the stupid court orders he had to get to see me,” Nina spat, telling her mother how upset she had been with these events.

“What are you talking about?” Danielle asked as she pulled the car over in shock.

“What I am talking about is that you did not like the fact that Dad was dating Y/N, so you had her fired. Because all you care about is yourself,” Nina accused, causing her mother’s chin to drop.

“Your dad was dating your dance teacher?” she asked, and Nina quickly realised she screwed up. Her mother did not know, causing Nina to curse and cover her mouth with her hands.

[totem-but-shark]

On the fourth day of Rust kingdoms I tuned into hJune's stream for the last hour or so and as he was ending he climbed up to the highest point in Rusty Bones and simply sat, looking over the kingdom listening to music. And whilst there's something to be said about it being the perfect representation of his character with r!june almost being some kind of guardian angel for Rusty Bones watching over and guiding them, in that moment I was hit with the strongest sense of nostalgia. Which is crazy considering at that point the server wasn't even ending, still had multiple days left and the server had only existed for a few days prior and yet I found myself moved.

Maybe it was a shared understanding with june, he wasn't saying much but I got the sense he might've been feeling something similar. Just sitting back and appreciating the moment, reflecting on the days past, and this special little server. I think there's something beautiful to the love we hold for media, or more precisely the stories told within it and the feeling of experiencing and loving something. Following a narrative with all of its twists and turns finding yourself wholly invested and endeared by its world and characters, to me this is made especially potent in real time improvised RP as you watch this whole world develop one step at a time before your very eyes. Getting to know characters as they get to know themselves, going on their journey right beside them. Following along within community, on twitter, in chats, just listening to the players discuss how much of a good time they're having, shared love and passion for something. It might just be me but that kinda thing always makes me emotional.

The medium of improvised live RP really is unique in this sense, it's hardly been a week but my heart has been stolen by the Rusty Bones cast regardless. Becoming so invested so quickly. Every character interaction building upon the last, every random throwaway line of backstory and lore slowly painting a clearer and clearer picture. Theorising and chatting with peers online and hopping between streams to see every pov. It's been beyond fun and I have to give my thanks to every single Rusty bones player for the atmosphere and community they created, they're the heart of these streams and each one played their part to perfection whether that be through in character roleplay, putting hours of time and care into contributing to the kingdom allowing everyone to play the game and enjoy it as they have or just being a good sport and bringing good vibes for a good time! Extra special thanks to Tina, Foolish, Trausi, hJune, Enevun and Dakkin who really made my pov of this event what it was.

June looking over the castle i've come to be so familiar with and hold so dear in such a short period of time it almost feels like home, for this week Rusty Bones has been my home. Somewhere comforting I could come back to reliably at the end of every day and be greeted by the kingdoms familiar faces. And though we're saying goodbye soon, even if it's a little silly I can't help but feel thankful this little week was part of my life and the joy it brought whilst it lasted.

The song June was listening to:

[happilysmythe]

hey queen!

you already know what I’m here to request!

could we get some Freddy x photographer action plssss;)

- ❤️ ky

hi queenie!

guys i'm back [proud]. who cheered?

i had the worst writer's block you could imagine and school was kicking my ass.

anyway, i started writing this back in june and i finally finished it tonight, so i hope this is still up to par with the rest of my stories :)

WARNING: smut under the cut!!

- - -

he was a forbidden fruit, and she was eve.

Ah, Sunrise, Florida.

The perfect destination spot for a relaxing vacation. Lots of retirees, warm weather, beautiful scenery—what more could anyone ask for? 

Of course, to your crowd, it was the home of the Florida Panthers. And you were there on a business trip. But unlike most professions that required a trip, being a sports photographer allowed for tons of leisure when traveling.

It was a beautiful night—a crisp 65 degrees in the middle of February, unlike Boston’s whopping 30. You finally had the chance to sit down after the game—not before taking a shower, of course—and had to go through the extensive process of sifting through your photos to determine which would be published. One unique aspect of that process was that you often liked to hear the players' opinions. They were your acquaintances, some even your close friends, and it gave more perspective to your work when the subjects helped publicize it.

So you frequently had the guys moving in and out of your workspaces—whether it be an office at Warrior or the varying hotel rooms across the country—huddling over your computer screen as you showcased and picked through your work.

You plopped down into the desk chair in the corner of the small hotel room and opened up your laptop, pushing the chair in and setting up the space as the screen booted up. You leisurely scrolled through the photos you snapped a few hours earlier, sipping on a late-night refresher and deleting the duds.

Trent Frederic, the feisty 26-year-old forward, dumped the puck in the net twice that particular night. It was safe to say that he was the subject of numerous pictures.

Not that you'd complain, of course.

A telling grin pricked at the corners of your lips when you saw them. Alright, maybe it was slightly unprofessional to look at them that way. You knew that. But what was wrong with having a little bit of a work crush, for lack of a better term? Nothing, as long as you didn’t treat him differently or act on anything. Hell, if you were being honest, at least 80 percent of that team was good-looking—so there was nothing to worry about.

At least, that’s what you told yourself to be able to sleep at night.

Regardless, you’d have to set aside whatever it was because you had pictures to sift through. And with your hands-on way of doing things, he’d be in that very hotel room within the next ten minutes.

in my room looking through pics. stop by and run through them?

You quickly shot him the text and sat back, awaiting his response. You had a system in place—they would have ten minutes to reply, and if they didn't, you would move on to the next or go to sleep yourself. They knew not to show up past the mark.

Then, your phone dinged.

Be there in 5

So you waited again, taking the time to prepare yourself (as you usually did). Although you wouldn’t admit it, you took a few extra seconds to dial in when it was him. And this time? Well, you’d need it. All of those pictures didn’t take themselves.

Especially the one that had been open on your screen for much longer than necessary.

The knock on the door interrupted your witless staring and you quickly minimized your screen. You took a breath and stood up. Opening the door revealed Trent standing behind it, curls still damp from his post-game shower and white shirt hugging his upper body. You swallowed, no doubt offset by the sight, and promptly cleared your throat to disrupt the silence.

“Hey, Fred,” you put on a smile. “Come on in.”

He calmly followed you over to the desk, eyes roaming around the room before focusing back on you—now sitting back in the chair as you were before. “Is there another chair?” he finally spoke.

“Oh, shit. I don’t think so,” you answered, lips flattening into a line. “Here, uh.” You stood up and looked around—there was no good substitute, and likely no room for two people at the desk. “Let’s just sit on the bed instead. More room, anyway.”

“Alright.”

Thankfully, he helped move your computer to the bed and keep the camera on the desk, which sped up the process and made it less stressful. With the laptop at the foot of the bed, you both rested flat on your stomachs. You left some space between, but you were still apprehensive about his proximity. You couldn’t help but feel like a teenage girl with a crush at school.

“So,” you finally began, scrolling through, “there were a lot of throwaways. Just borderline unpublishable.”

He laughed, “As usual.”

“But I think some of the best ones were from the first goal,” you maximized the size to see the array of photos from the goal. “This one,” your cursor hovered above, “—you were in the corner with the celebration. That’s pretty good.” You focused on another, moving the cursor over to it. “Celly line. You had your leg popped. Might be cool for the socials.”

“And in this one, you had Pat there in the hug,” you pointed to another. “He’s become a good fan-favorite, so that could work,” you clarified.

He nodded, listening to your ample breakdown of each shot you decided not to delete before he came. “What’s that one?” his finger pointed.

To your unpleasant surprise, the image was all too familiar. It was the one you stared down earlier until he knocked on the door.

It was between whistles. Late in the second—not that it mattered. He was conversing at the face-off dot and waiting to get into position. From your angle, it seemed as if he were laughing—likely at something a teammate said—and your finger snapped the picture almost subconsciously from the sight of his smile. At that moment, it was nothing—but having him beside you brought forth your underlying embarrassment.

“Oh, it’s just,” you hesitantly clicked on it, “—I took it in between whistles.” You swallowed, discreetly side-eyeing him and trying to gauge his reaction.

“Yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

“Thought it would be cool for one of those ‘post-game smiles’ posts,” you lied. “Sometimes they post ‘em on Twitter and Instagram. They get good traction from the fans,” you began to ramble.

You almost made it through without slipping up.

“—And you looked cute.”

Almost.

He turned to face you. “Looked cute, eh?”

You looked back over. Of course, he was grinning—he was…sort of arrogant sometimes. Not in a way that made him an asshole—you found him to be one of the friendliest on the team—but sometimes, you could just…feel the cockiness radiating off of him. Truthfully, it might have only been when he was with you because you were poor at hiding things.

“Yeah? You know, for the pictures.”

“You lying?”

Silence.

Your focus shifted back and forth between his eyes. Then around the room and back to his face. Your eyes flitted down to his stretched lips and back up, studying his features, hoping to find some sort of belief in his expression. You already knew you were fucked.

But for some reason, you weren’t feeling so rattled anymore.

“Yeah,” was what you decided on.

His eyes narrowed and you felt him drawing closer. The heat from his body radiated onto yours. In a similar manner to yours, his eyes moved down and trailed back up. 

“You’re not slick, you know,” he whispered, lips slightly upturned.

“Never claimed to be,” you retorted. You were moving closer—leaning forward as if your body were in control instead of your head, and maybe it was. Warm breath fanned your lips, his white teeth peeking out, and intruding thoughts of grazing your tongue along them disrupted your already-faltering composure.

“And maybe I wasn’t trying to be.”

His lips finally linked with yours, together moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. He wrapped an arm around your waist and settled his palm in the small of your back, allowing him to effortlessly pull you into his body—turning you on your side in the process. His other arm reached outward and closed the screen of your laptop. The faint thud as it dropped to the floor caused your body to jolt and he tugged you closer.

When you asked him to come down to your room, you didn’t intend to have his tongue in your mouth. But sometimes that’s just how the cards fall, right?

Your fingers weaved into his dark red curls, still damp from his post-game shower. And you couldn’t resist sliding the other hand under his white t-shirt to feel the warm skin beneath it, trailing upward to the chain you knew was concealed by the cotton material; you were present the morning his compression shirt was ripped at the chest and it never quite went unnoticed after that. 

Trent’s hands tenaciously gripped your sides and pulled you on top of him. He rolled onto his back, head at the foot of the bed and hair dangling over the edge. You were then sitting in his lap, his hands keeping you grounded, and although it was wrong—and so jeopardizing to your job—it felt so right to give in to the insatiable need for him that you’d been harboring for far too long.

Contrary to your own beliefs, you were rather good at hiding your attraction to him. He and you had been good friends—similarly to the rest of the team—and he shockingly wasn’t aware of how you felt until you gave yourself away just moments ago. His earlier accusation, in his mind, was baseless.

You bent down and captured his lips in another kiss, tongue slipping past them again as his fingers pressed into your hips. His hands slid under the thin t-shirt you often wore to bed and began to lift it. It remained bunched up at your chest until you lifted your arms and the fabric was no longer on your body, but instead discarded to the floor. A faint hum of approval left his mouth at the sight of your bare torso—of course, you hadn’t worn a bra to bed—and without a second thought his arms crossed over one another and peeled his shirt off his body.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he hummed, fingers tracing the waistband of your pajama shorts, eyes drinking in the sight of your body and committing each inch of it to memory.

“I know,” you finally responded softly. “But we’ve already gotten this far.”

Nothing’s wrong with having a dirty little secret, right?

So that’s what you mutually agreed on—it was going to stay a secret. And it was going to be a one-time affair.

Even when he so easily had you wrapped around his finger. Even when you found yourself molded perfectly in his lap like your legs were tailor-made to wrap around his figure. Even when the last remnants of your clothing were removed and the length of his fingers, slick with your arousal, pushed into your core and brought you to your first release.

Even when his fingers were coated in white, it was going to stay a secret.

“Fuck, Trent,” the words tumbled from your mouth like a mantra. It was the first time you'd ever called him by his first name. And it was only ironic that it was through a moan. Your legs trembled and your palms rested flat on his toned stomach. Had you not kept them there for support, you likely wouldn’t have been able to keep yourself up.

With one hand on your hip and the other rising to his lips to clean its fingers with his tongue, Trent felt himself straining beneath you. It was the warmth of your body; your hips that were grinding in his lap just moments ago. If he wasn’t inside you in the next five minutes, he was sure he wouldn’t see the light of day again. And you could feel it, too. So you leaned back and reached for the drawer in the nightstand.

“What,” he half-whispered as he looked over, “what are you—”

Before he could finish his sentence, your hand popped up with a small box—still sealed—between your fingers. “Someone left this here,” you stated before frantically ripping it open and taking out a condom. 

Trent wasted no time forcing his sweatpants down his legs. He couldn’t be bothered to take them off fully.

Dainty fingers tore the foil open and tossed it to the floor before slipping the rubber on him. The moment he was sure it was secure, the pads of his fingers dug into your hips and lifted you.

The next few seconds seemed to pass in a haze, because you barely remembered anything before you were back in his lap with him buried to the hilt. The sting of him stretching you out lasted only for a moment, yet your hands were already grasping at anything they could find; his chest, his biceps, his sides—anything. Your head lulled back and your mouth hung open. Meanwhile, he was holding on by a thread. He made every possible attempt not to focus on how fucking tight you were.

“Jesus Christ,” he finally vocalized, pressing his fingers firmly into your sides. He used his remaining strength to drag you down, leaving you chest-to-chest. Your trembling hands slipped around his neck and found purchase at the nape. Trent took this as his cue and began to move your hips. He gauged what you could take and set the pace.

He felt good. Really good.

In a way that made you aware of all of your senses. The feeling of skin touching skin. The taste of him as his tongue rolled over yours. The sound of his breaths occasionally coming out as a groan. The sight of his tensed-up face, and the smell of his after-shave wafting in the air around you.

As your consciousness slowly came back, you were able to take control of your movements. Your fingertips skimmed his arms and wrapped around his biceps, holding them for stability. It was in a moment like this that you were thankful he played hockey. It was like his body was made for it—his perfectly sculpted muscles, the warmth he radiated, the sheer thickness of his figure—and it was only natural that he could envelop you entirely with his presence.

He was everything you could’ve imagined. And although it would only—could only—be for one night, he was so attentive, as if you were so much more to him than that. And perhaps you were, but all you could be was nothing more than a photographer; his inferior.

Regardless of how much you both wanted that to change.

“Trent,” his name descended from your lips in a whisper. To your surprise, his hands glided up to your cheeks and held them in what could only be described as an intimate gesture. Before he could second-guess it, you pressed your forehead to his, fingertips pushing firmly into the flesh of his arms as your hips rolled in his lap.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, you felt the tension in your stomach. The same tension that made you tighten around his fingers earlier, only this time it was around him. And he could feel it.

His thumbs grazed your cheeks as he pulled you into him, and suddenly he was kissing you again. You could only be thankful for the gesture afterward, recognizing that he was absorbing the sound of your moans as you felt the coil in your stomach snap. Pleasure ripped through you in an exhilarating wave, and the mere sight and sound were enough to pull him over the edge with you.

The intensity forced your body to fall limp atop his. With his remaining strength—which was astoundingly little—his arms wrapped around your midsection and kept you in place. And in response, you found yourself nestling your face into his neck as if you were used to this. Maybe it was just in the heat of the moment (and likely not so), but he didn’t seem to protest it.

Trent finally broke the silence with a quiet sigh. His thumb rubbed your back in little circles, steadying your breaths and soothing your nerves. “You okay?” he half-whispered, and you nodded slowly in response.

“Mhm.”

“Good,” he carefully sat upright and brought you up with him. His arms remained enveloped around you to keep you stable, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Am I staying here or leaving?”

It was a simple question. Of course, you wanted him to, but your mind was hazed with what-ifs. What if someone caught him leaving the next morning? What if someone had already heard, and this would only dig you into a deeper hole? But letting him sleep with you? It would be anything but casual. So you took a beat to think about it and gave him your answer.

“Staying.”

You’d deal with the repercussions in the morning. After all, everything was still surreal to you. For so long, that stupid little crush was controlling your life. You hoped this would put it to rest and give it some closure. Just one night to get him out of your system.

What you hadn't known was that that “one night” would continue to control your life, because you’d unknowingly be spending the rest of it with him.

[tonydaddingham]

so here's what we're told about the bet with satan:

god will allow whatever happens to job and his family to happen without intervention

heaven is following these orders, the terms of the permit, and will not interfere at all; whatever happens to job is in fact up to satan and hell's own actions

aziraphale considers the possibility that god does not necessarily want job and his family to suffer - or more specifically, that crowley is wrong

crowley is steadfast to the contrary, and asserts that god's will must be that the children die, and to question god is essentially to follow the same kind of fate (or as close as).

all of this is stating the fairly-obvious, i know. but i think we're possibly, once again, reading this scene and taking crowley's word for it - understandable, given that the minisode starts, and continues to be for a lot of scenes, from crowley's perspective. but there is nothing to indicate that god actively wants suffering brought on job and his family, nothing to show that that was her intent; satan seemed to initiate the bet, going by muriel's whole account, and god is letting whatever happens, happen.

because that's the thing: standing by and watching whilst hell does so is not, arguably, the right thing to do, but it is the right thing for god to do; to let her creation do what it wants. if hell chooses to go ahead with putting job and his family through hardship, then she will not - and should not - stop it. even when job is beseeching to her for answers, she does not give them; she cannot and will not get involved.

crowley and aziraphale do the right thing by putting a stop to it all, and i think that was the plan, particularly of the ineffable variety - not that crowley and aziraphale were pre-destined to stop it per se, but that all the players of her game would act on their own, and make their own choices. they would exercise their free will as they see fit, whether to cause suffering, or to prevent it. free will is not necessarily a good thing, but it is the right thing. this is the game of her own devising.

i also want to consider that this very situation may turn out to be, in part, a parallel of the fall. in the minisode, it seems that the reason why aziraphale didn't fall is because he did exactly as god intended - to act of his own free will, according to what he thought was right - but equally he would not have fallen if he had done the opposite (regardless of how he would essentially punish himself if he had told gabriel the truth). i don't think that god is in the business of punishing anyone, regardless of their motivations or moral alignment, if they are acting out of free will.

and further from this, i don't think god had a hand in the fall at all, not beyond it being - essentially - cool with her if some of her angels didn't agree with her plans for the universe. i don't think she cast them out in the way we're all imagining it to have happened. i think some of her creations acted with cruelty out of free will, and others did not. crowley obviously, more than likely anyway, belongs in the latter category. but she cannot interfere, she cannot and will not take free will away from them.

what crowley thought were her orders were unlikely to have ever been that at all. if anything - wherever crowley is or isn't placed in the narrative of the fall - i think she likely excused herself from deciding the fate of the fallen altogether, and left it to 'her people' to decide. her inaction, to allow the fall to happen, may not have been the right thing, but it ultimately the right thing for her to do. (frankly, i think we can take pontius pilate's handling of jesus' trial in Matthew as some further kind of parallel here)

then take into account aziraphale's constant rhetoric throughout s1 and s2 that humanity has a choice, that everyone has choices; i think he potentially understands god a little more than he's given credit for. and when he says that he's on god's side, specifically doesn't say heaven's, i think that's more literal than even he knows.

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Thoughts on Kris x Ralsei, continued

(this is a continuation of my first post on this subject, creatively titled Thoughts on Kris x Ralsei. The parts all build upon each other, so it's best to read from the beginning. Here's a little TOC so you can get up to speed:

Part 1: And They Lived Happily Ever After Part 1.5: I Believe Your Choices DO Matter Part 2: A Pair of Star-Cross'd Lovers <- (You Are Here!) Part 2.5: In Another World, We Could Have Been (Just) Friends (Future parts to be added as they are written))

(Please be aware that this series will go over topics including coercion, non-consentual romance, and an observation pertaining to potential incestual undertones. If any of this makes you uncomfortable in any way, please proceed with caution. Thank you)

Part 2: A Pair of Star-Cross'd Lovers

Kris Dreemurr is doomed the instant the player assumes control of them.

If Undertale is a game about how your choices can affect the world, then Deltarune is about how sometimes, your choices mean absolutely nothing. Fate grinds on, irrespective of your wishes. Onward you march, towards your ultimate destiny.

This concept features heavilly in a lot of RPGs - the idea that the protagonist is the "chosen one" who will save the world, which due to the constrains of narrative and gaming, is what ends up happening 95% of the time. Much like the Knight and Princess dynamic I discussed in the previous part, this trope is so heavily ingrained in the gaming psyche that we do tend to accept it when it happens,as part and parcel of the RPG experience.

This very familiar setup is where Kris and Susie find themselves upon meeting Ralsei, who waxes lyrical about the very Non-Specific-and-Light-on-Any-Identifying-Details Legend. They are told that the balance of light and dark is being disrupted and a "terrible calamity (will) occur", are shown some apocalyptic imagery, three heroes who are identified by their race/species (and not their name - a detail which may become important later on), who will stop something nefariously dubbed the "Angel's Heaven". It is Prophecy 101, the most barebones framing for a quest you can imagine... but hey, the game needs a hook, doesn't it? Some grand stakes to get the ball rolling.

And so, the roles are doled out: Kris is the human, the unwavering leader; Susie is the no-nonsense contrarian who doesn't really care much for concepts of fate and determinism, and Ralsei is the exposition fairy, doing his best to keep his comrades on the path he has set out for them.

Ok, cool. But where does Kralsei fit into this? Well, in Part 1 and 1.5 of this series of posts, I brought up how Deltarune goes to great lengths to bring the idea of this pairing to prominence... but I didn't really talk about why the game is doing this. And the answer is, because it ties in with Deltarune's central theme of destiny and determinism. Or to put it another way:

Your Choices Don't Matter.

And here, you might protest. Because surely when the game says that, it's only refering to Kris's choices, right? We, as players, can choose from different dialogue options, we can choose to FIGHT or SPARE our adversaries. More fundamentally, we are the ones in control of Kris's movements and actions, while they are almost entirely powerless to fight our influence (note how I say almost - this will be important later).

But think for a moment about the choices we are given as players, and ask yourself - what meaningfully changes as a result of our actions? In Chapter 1, it doesn't matter whether we fight or spare anyone, they'll all return regardless in Chapter 2, with a single line of dialogue added as a handwave to explain why. And while Chapter 2 gives us a little more say in this - we can lose potential recruits to Castle Town by fighting rather than sparing, and they won't turn up in Ralsei's dark world at the end - the main points of the story do not meaningfully change to reflect this.

(there are, of course, things that we CAN do to change things in a pretty big way *coughSnowgravecough* but given that the means to achieve this are rather well-hidden, and it involves doing some very, VERY messed up things in pursuit of it, we can consider it an exception that proves the rule - technically your choices CAN have consequences, but those consequences are so horrific that you're probably better off not choosing in the first place.)

Okay, sure, you say. But this doesn't apply to the interpersonal relationships in Deltarune, now does it? If we don't want Kralsei to happen, then we simply don't choose any of the options that hint at it. That much must be in our power, surely?

To which I have one riposte: the Acid Tunnel of Love.

Brief overview of this sequence: Kris and Ralsei are tasked with "distracting" Queen while Susie and Berdly go to rescue Noelle. Literally on the next screen, the only way to proceed is across a giant river of acid, atop a swan pedallo, while soft carnival-style music plays in the background. Partway through, Ralsei has a heart-to-heart with Kris/the player, Rouxls Kaard does what he does best, and a photo may or may not be taken at the end.

You don't get to choose not to do this (unless you do that other thing which we're not discussing here). This just happens. And it's difficult to get away from the fact that this entire scenario is dripping with romantic undertones, especially when it's contrasted directly afterwards with Susie and Noelle's equally-romantically-charged Rescue and Ferris Wheel ride.

But then, perhaps it's a parody. A funny contrivance that sends up the absurdity of Kralsei by comparing it to a romantic pairing with actual weight, Suselle. But there are two problems with this; the first is that if we write off this scene as parody, then we must also do the same with the ferris wheel, because they both operate under the same logic - they're both based on a massive contrivance.

The second problem is that Ralsei doesn't seem to have got that memo. And no matter how you respond to his questions, the scene will end with his admiration for Kris strengthened. There is NO dialogue option you can select which will dissuade him from his feelings.

Exhibit A: calling Ralsei a lackey will have him cheerfully exclaim "Ooh, I've never been somebody's lackey before!" (because he's a darkner, that's literally what he was designed to be). Exhibit B: saying "It's strange" has Ralsei write off his question as, erm, "sarcasm". Which would perhaps be read as a rebuttal, except that his understanding of social situations is so minimal that he might genuinely believe he's committed a serious faux pas here, rather than interpret the response as a rejection. It also doesn't change his follow-up response, either. Exhibit C: Saying nothing when he says "it's good that you're you" has him laugh at how "Kris-like" not saying anything is, before saying that he "[likes] you-like things".

Cue Ralsei haters throwing their hands up in exasperation.

Contrast again with Susie and Noelle's scene. Here, too, we're presented with options to influence how things will happen. But the crucial difference is, we have absolutely zero sway over Susie, and she will always choose to say and do her own things. Here, too, we are powerless to intervene, but in a more direct way, whereas with Kralsei, even though we CAN choose an option, none of them make a difference to the scene or its outcome. This serves to show just how much agency Susie actually possesses, and is a stark contrast to Kris's severe lack of agency... as well as our own.

What does that mean, exactly? Well, consider this: Susie is free to make her own decisions, up to and including choosing NOT to pursue Noelle romantically. Kris, on the other hand, has no such freedom, and thus cannot choose to opt out of entering into a relationship with Ralsei. And, as I have alluded to a few times, neither can we, despite what our own feelings on the situation might be.

And thus we come to the title of this part - Kris and Ralsei are Star-Crossed. No reference to this line is made in Deltarune as of present, but it has numerous connotations which I believe are relevant to these two characters. Firstly, the idea that their connection is destined to occur - it's written in the stars, woven into the game's literal architecture. As such, there is nothing that anyone can do to stop it from happening - not Ralsei, who probably would be quite thrilled with it, not the player, who try as they might cannot influence it either way, and certainly not Kris, who is almost entirely unable to voice their own desires. We are each as powerless as each other in this instance.

Secondly, the idea that this destined relationship, no matter what form it might take, is doomed to end in tragedy. From the reaction to the various teas, we can infer that Kris is lukewarm on Ralsei at best (this may change as future chapters are released, but it's not exactly a ringing endorsement). And as time goes on, it becomes increasingly apparent that Ralsei is likely labouring under a false notion of who Kris actually is, and has fallen for the idea of Kris that he has conjured up in his own head, rather than the genuine article.

But the problem is more fundamental still, for if we understand the prophecy correctly, light and dark must be in balance - they cannot mix. That means no new dark fountains, which means that Ralsei can never manifest anywhere as a darkner once the events of the game are concluded. This would of course preclude any sort of interpersonal connection, romantic or otherwise. The best that could be hoped for in such a scenario is that Ralsei returns to whichever object he represents in the light world and Kris keeps him around as a memento.

This all assumes a great deal, of course - Kris's stance on Ralsei may well change, and for all we know Ralsei is more than likely very aware that we exist separately from Kris, as evidenced by his clandestine conversations with Kris while we see what Susie's up to. Additionally, it is entirely possible that Ralsei has instead fallen for US through Kris, which presents... additional complications. More on that later.

All of this leads us back to the central conceit of Deltarune: Our choices do not matter. Nothing we say, nothing we do, can change what is going to happen. We don't know exactly where this is going to go, whether they will fall into a full-on romance, or if they become something more akin to queerplatonic partners, or good friends, or something like siblings, or perhaps even mortal enemies. But one thing is for sure - Deltarune is going to continue cramming Kralsei down our throats, whether we like it or not.

...okay, think I best stop there for now. And look, I know I haven't really gone too much into the why of all this just yet. But patience - much of the past few essays have been establishing the groundwork - the what and the how, if you like. I'n Part 3, I'll attempt to go over what I believe the Narrative (i.e. the game) is trying to accomplish with Kralsei - what it's trying to say about games, stories, romance, and how we can be manipulated into endorsing a potentially problematic relationship, irrespective of the wishes of the vessel we control.

Thanks for reading!

[snapscube]

hihihi ok. so i’m in my last of us fixation mode and i’m being extra silly about it but i NEED to know what’s ur current opinion on the last of us hbo?? also i logged onto tumblr and saw a lot of rly good points defending joel’s final choice and i remember during the last of us pt1 playthrough u had differing opinions so i wonder if u think the show’s differences affect that at all? btw i LOVE ur stuff and cannot wait until u do last of us pt 2 wehehehehe!!! anyway besides all that i just want u to know that u are one of the things in my life that makes it easier to get up in the morning

I still feel exactly the same about the final events as I always have! The show didn't change it for me, and actually being able to remove myself from being in control of the situation in the game and actually just watch the events play out in show format solidified that further. The connection I have to Joel as a player when I play the game really helps me understand his perspective more and stomach the goal a bit more easily, but without that immediate intimacy it puts into perspective for me how kinda monstrous the whole thing is from every angle. Obviously I don't ever lose that sympathy for him, and I never stop understanding why, because the whole point of the conflict is that no one is in the right. Ultimately I think the damning thing for every single person involved is that they removed Ellie's agency from the equation, and I still stand by that. They all should have talked to her. They should have told her the truth. All she wants is for her immunity to matter, and I believe that they may have been surprised at the lengths she's willing to go in order to make a difference, whether it's ultimately the right call or not.

I don't know what arguments you've seen exactly in defense of Joel's choice, but personally I don't really agree with one I see a lot and I'd expect will pop up again now that the show is over, which is the whole "well who's to say a vaccine would have worked anyway?????" angle. I think, while reasonable from a meta standpoint, completely ignores the intended framing of the story in order to more conveniently justify a protagonist that the story through its entire runtime is trying to tell you is a little bit of a piece of shit. It's pretty clear and safe to assume that the ultimate intent here is that... yes, the vaccine WOULD have worked. Maybe not in the sweeping way they hoped, but Ellie's sacrifice absolutely would have done something. The whole moral dilemma of the situation really does not make any sense unless you give them that as fact imo.

So then, assuming that is true, you have to wrestle with the idea that Joel is willing to take down the entirety of humanity for Ellie. And not really for Ellie, because none of this is what Ellie wanted. The game AND the show QUITE LITERALLY SPELL OUT for us that Ellie really really really does not want to go back to Jackson without finishing what they started, regardless of the cost. Joel's reasons for saving Ellie, while understandable, are ultimately selfish and rooted in his own trauma and having just seen the light at the end of his grieving over Sarah. Again, incredibly sympathetic, but it's selfish. I know we like to joke as much, but Ellie IS NOT his daughter. They share a similar bond after everything they go through, but by the end of the game you can already feel Ellie pulling away from that notion because she's starting to realize Joel doesn't have the same commitment to the idea of her immunity being meaningful as she does, they're only a few miles away and he's already asking her to give up and go back to Jackson with him.

Then, of course, I think what ultimately damns Joel in my eyes on a poetic/storytelling level is his decision to lie to Ellie after it's all over. That's the nail in the coffin for me. It would be one thing if he said "they were going to kill you on that operating table without even telling you what was going on and I couldn't let them do that", but instead he lies to her to make sure she's still able to see him as the father he desperately wants to be again. It doesn't change anything. He tells her her worst fear has come to pass: her immunity, this unexplainable thing that has taken so many of her loved ones from her, is completely useless. Not only that, but now even more people are dead. Including Marlene, who's known her since birth. The only thing his lie changes is the fact that he's responsible for it all.

Anyway, part of what I love most about The Last of Us Part II is how it follows up on these threads and you may be pleased to know that I actually just started streaming the game last night after the HBO finale premiered cause I was so pumped up I couldn't wait any longer haha. So you'll be seeing VODs for that soon :)

[anakinsthot]

34 and obikin for the fic list! 👀👀👀

Thank you for this prompt!

from this prompt list

34. meeting at a masquerade ball au (760 words)

Someone had allowed the event planner to hire a quartet of jizz-wailers for the masquerade. The off-key kloo horn player was adding to the headache that Obi-Wan’s elaborate suit and matching mask had brought on at the beginning of the night. The only upside to the mask Obi-Wan had been required to don for it was that it hid his facial expressions. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hide his distaste for the worst of the songs otherwise.

The mask otherwise was nothing but a hindrance. The Order had sent him because they’d gotten a tip that there would be an illicit deal taking place during the ball: that the Zygerrians were selling force sensitives to the Neimoidians. For what purpose was unknown, and Obi-Wan was tasked with stopping the deal and gathering information. He had his suspicions on which Trade Federation and Zygerrian representatives would be here, but it was difficult to identify anyone with the ornate masks and disguises every being in the room wore.

Obi-Wan was startled out of his perusal of the dance floor – he’d been tracking three different Zygerrians on the floor, and he was about to rule out one of them as his mark - by someone bumping into his elbow and spilling their drink on him.

“So sorry, I didn’t see you there. Here, let me help you clean up.” Before Obi-Wan could say anything the stranger had looped their arm through his and was pulling Obi-Wan toward the freshers.

“I’m quite alright,” Obi-Wan protested, “It’s just white wine, I can just grab a napkin here to clean it up.”

“Kriff,” the stranger muttered. “I knew I should have grabbed a different drink.”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and dug his heels in. Regardless, the other man kept dragging him. Unwilling to cause a scene, Obi-Wan gave in and followed. When they made it through the fresher door the stranger took off his blue and green mask, covered in large feathers, and revealed his face.

“Again, I’m so sorry Master Kenobi, but I’ve got important information for you.” Earnest blue eyes met his and Obi-Wan swallowed back the biting retort he’d been prepared to reply with.

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he said instead. The stranger bit their plush lip, drawing in Obi-Wan’s eyes, while they debated whether to reveal their identity or not.

“Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the man said finally, offering his hand out for Obi-Wan to shake. Instead, he grasped his fingers gently and bent down to press a soft kiss to the back of Anakin’s hand. “I – I’m a shadow from the Tatoo system. I’ve been tracking the Zygerrians you’re here for.”

Obi-Wan pushed his own mask up so he could speak to Anakin face to face. It was a relief to have another Jedi here. Normally this mission would have been assigned to a Master with a senior Padawan, or two Knights, but with rising tensions throughout the galaxy the Jedi were spread thin.

“Pleased to meet you Anakin,” he said warmly. “People might start to notice if we hide in the fresher for too long, why don’t you fill me in on the dance floor?”

Anakin smiled and put his mask back on before looping an arm through Obi-Wan’s. “I’ll follow your lead, Master.”

On the dance floor, Obi-Wan drew Anakin close and guided him into a simple dance step. Anakin followed his lead easily. They spun around the floor and Anakin pointed out the Zyerrian he’d followed across two systems, and told Obi-Wan what he’d learned about the trafficking operation. They had some time until the handoff, and Obi-Wan decided to keep them on the dance floor and wait for the mark to leave before they followed.

Tipping his face down, Anakin whispered into Obi-Wan’s ear. “What do you say after we kick some slaver ass and free some force sensitives, you give me a ride on your ship after?” He let one of his hands slide down Obi-Wan’s chest, making his intentions clear.

Obi-Wan pulled back slightly to get a better look at Anakin. “Surely they teach shadows how to flirt better than that?”

Anakin shrugged. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

“Force help me, it is. Though you could have gotten what you wanted without opening your mouth.” Anakin smirked at him and started to say something. “Don’t say anything,” Obi-Wan said exasperatedly.

Anakin wiggled his eyebrows and pulled Obi-Wan off the floor. “Come on,” he said excitedly, “it’s go time. We can talk about what to do with my mouth after we take care of this.”  

[bg3fandomcritical-reactive]

A small correction to my last message about the male characters' proposals: I shouldn't have said that Ascended Astarion is the only one who doesn't propose, I didn't phrase that entirely correctly. I should have said that out of those three, unlike Gale and Wyll, Ascended Astarion is the one who doesn't propose to the player at all- but if we want to get completely accurate about it, neither does the Spawn Astarion (or any other character beside those two, to my knowledge, but that's beside the point).

The most meaningful difference between the Spawn and the Ascendant routes here is that on the Spawn route, while that epilogue is not any sort of a proposal either, what he offers you is a legitimate choice on whether you want to be with him or not.

Does he get upset if you say no? Sure. But that's understandable: he loves you, he clearly wants to stay with the player, and breaking up with someone out of the blue like that, even if they were the ones to ask if you want to, would upset them regardless of the personal journey that they have been on. But if you want to break the relationship cleanly off there, you can, without getting laughed out, told that he owns your future, or being tethered to him forever, regardless of your wishes.

That's the difference. Agency, autonomy, and free will.

On the spawn route, the player can stay in a committed relationship with him because the characters both want that, not because he owns the PC, and fuck man, regardless of how I personally feel about marriage, an offer you have no way of actually rejecting is an order, and one partner having complete and total ownership of the other is not a romantic relationship- it's a fucking hostage situation.

It's honestly beyond me how someone (or many someones, even) could have watched all the same cutscenes I have, listen to all the same lines I did, play the same game I did, romance the same character I did, and come out the other end still genuinely believing that the Ascendant ending is anything other than a fun, fucked up story about enabling a man's worst impulses, and a cautionary tale about the corruption of power and fear.

.

[vorestarr]

i want to talk about something with Astarion that i think is important to how i read his story but also maybe kind of a touchy thing, which is how a positive relationship (whether friend or romance) with him can start: him attempting to drink the player character's blood while they sleep.

at that point in the story, Astarion has not told them anything about his vampirism or need to drink blood (even though they may suspect), and he attempts to feed on them while they sleep so they remain unaware of this. in his origin route, he can even do this successfully and feed on other companions while they sleep without them knowing.

the alternate way this can happen is Astarion eventually confessing to the player in the camp that he's a vampire, and at that point the player can offer that he drink from them.

so, the glaring thing to me about the first option where he approaches the player to drink at night is that, when looking at Astarion's vampirism as a physical manifestation or symbol of his trauma (see this post), it feels impossible not to address this as something nonconsensual that he specifically tries to hide from the player character.

i think there's a lot of ways someone can read this, but after turning this over in my head for a while now, i think the way i read it is: regardless of whether he confesses he's a vampire first or the player catches him trying to feed from them, this event is the perspective shift that changes things for him.

Astarion at this point has had his perspective warped by years, literal centuries, of Cazador and the other spawn being his only context. his baseline for interacting with other people is them, and the victims he lures to their deaths. in Astarion's origin route you learn that the first night, he has a nightmare of Cazador and his rules. Astarion then realizes that if he can walk in the sun, maybe he's free from Cazador's influence too, and he decides to test this by breaking Cazador's rule to never feed on thinking creatures.

from this perspective, Astarion is only thinking about himself and testing the limits of his new freedom. he doesn't think about the person he drinks from expect to select the most appealing one (which is always the player in his non-origin route). he also does not think of this as a problem, except in that he has to keep it a secret because people tend to not like vampires (or want to stake them). this is just how vampirism works. vampires feed on people and they generally don't like this, he's a vampire, therefore he doesn't want people he has to rely on for help/protection to know, but he needs to feed, so this is just what has to happen.

however, after he feeds from the player with their permission the first night, if he continues to feed on them, it's because they tell him he has permission to. and if you play as the dark urge and romance him while resisting the urge, there's a dialogue option on the night durge attempts to kill him where he scolds them and says "we ask before we bite."

notably, the main other times he bites people are if he uses the vampire bite in battle (against enemies the party is killing anyway) or to turn the player into a vampire (which he also only does with their permission).

so something here has changed. first, he realizes that he's no longer under Cazador's control thanks to the tadpole. then, he realizes that the world and context Cazador created, his only reference point for his vampirism up to this moment, is not the only way to be a vampire. not only can he do things without Cazador's control, but he can also choose different things -- like asking permission before feeding from someone (at least someone he likes and/or isn't going to murder in battle anyway).

tl;dr: imo, the nighttime-sneaking-up-on-the-player scene (and the confession where the player can give him permission to drink from them) is a perspective change, where Astarion goes from Cazador's perspective of how vampires are (monsters, to be brief) to his realization that there are alternate ways to be and he can choose (or not) to find one of those alternate ways.

[grizzlyplays]

Hello grizz!! Your world-building and storytelling really inspire me in riptide, and as an aspiring dm I have but one question!!

How did you prompt the players to write their pc's backstories at the very beginning? Since they're all super interconnected with locations and actual people from their backstories, were those connections planned from the very beginning and did the players know about it??

I guess my point is that I want to write a campaign that has similarly linked characters, but I don't know how I should go about it. Write a story first and blend PC backstories into it, or make players write backstories and write the story around that?

(I'm not sure if this is like secret dm and player behind the curtain info that you can't share and in case it is that's fine, thank you for still taking the time to read this haha :]!! )

There isnt a right way, but I think after you DM for a while, youll learn what works for you and your table.

You can have your players make their characters, and then build a world around them, or you can build a world and then have your players make characters in the world. Regardless, I recommend making your players build their characters together or at least have a session 0 where everyone agrees on what they want out of the game and other table rules. It helps so that you dont have characters who dont get along, which can end up in players not having fun. You can also look up character building questionnaires to send to your players, that will help them flesh out the characters, and give you stuff you can use in the game. Important family member NPCs for example, or greatest fears for another.

In Riptide I didnt have a world built when we started, so there wasnt a story there. The concept of pirates vs navy isn’t original, it was just a starting point and gave the world a cohesive theme. I built small adventures and conflicts, and how the players reacted in character was how the story was told. Now, however, theres a lot more fleshed out, which means the world is going to change, whether they have a hand in it or not, and the story will be the characters perspective and lives throughout the ever changing world. The heaviest theme of the story right now is choice. Whose ideals will win? Whose choices will be remembered?

Id really suggest having a concept and an overarching plot at least so that you can integrate your players into it quicker and easier. An overarching plot might look like world alternating NPC motivations, like coming up with an antagonists plan long before the players are introduced, and have that plan effect the players directly, no matter what their backstory is.

For example, if you had a world that was in endless war fought by orphans raised to be genetic super soldiers, your players would have a jumping off point to write their characters. Your first few sessions might be exploring the live of these young soldiers, and then you throw the ultra plot twist at them like all of a sudden the world powers declare peace as long as all the super soldiers are eradicated, and then what was going to be a campaign of fighting war for the world or something, is now a campaign about being on the run from the world that created the characters. Not saying this idea is good, its just a silly idea to give quick example.