#it's already sad for me even though I'm just an outsider in both cases

[plumedesnuages]

The show reminds me of a friend who had a mentally challenged dad and it's kind of... Difficult

[fraugwinska]

Hey! Me again!

Could I get an Alastor x Female reader where she tells him she's pregnant, he's so stunned he thinks it a joke until she shows him the positive on the test and it shocks him to the core but after the initial shock he's overjoyed.

My dear jezebel <3 Thank you for being so patient! I took a few liberties from the ask, I really hope you don't mind! After a lot of rewrites and edits - I'm finally happy to share it with you! Thank you for the ask, my dearest! TW:Sickness&death-Light smut-Minors DNI-5.2k words

Autumn had always been your favorite season.

The most colorful of the four; from your bed you could always see various shades of red, orange, green and yellow, all mixed together to create a vibrant, warm impressionistic painting. Just looking at the bright shades outside had always made you smile.

There was also this peaceful ambiance around autumn that you could feel but not quite understand. Something so profound and yet ephemeral in a way.

"Should I close the window before I go?", Alice asked you, a sad smile on her face. Your favorite hospice nurse had spent her last shift before her holiday almost exclusively with you - somehow you both knew there wasn't much time left. The sickness that ate away at your body was unforgiving - you knew it was simply a matter of days now, and even that was generous. Alice must've sensed it, too.

"No, no.", you replied with a warm smile. "Leave it open. The night nurse can close it later."

Alice nodded, said her goodbyes and gave you a kiss on the head before exiting the room, carefully closing the heavy wooden door with a thud of painful finality. Breathing had become painful lately, but despite the sting you inhaled deeply, just to burn the smell of bristle leafs and warm wood into your memory. Right next to the memory of him.

Alastor.

Summoning him hadn't been easy, especially since you were bedridden and almost constantly monitored. Not only did you have to take special care of choosing the right night to be left unsupervised - you had to bribe Alice and make her believe it was her own idea to give you a few hours to be on your own, which you claimed to need desperately. The internet had been your biggest friend in the weeks before, preparing - you had used the time you had at your disposal to research on shady websites and occult forums who to summon, how to do the ritual and, in case he said no, which bargain to offer. And you chose Alastor.

It was the name that spoke to you the most - Unusual. Mature. Vintage. Mysterious. Powerful and yet gentle, in it's own way. 'Mans defender'. 'Avenger'. The more you read about him on dubious servers and obscure wiki's, the more you were sure it should be him. Still able to use your hands back then, in the chosen night you managed to follow all of the instructions perfectly, even while bound to your bed. When the living shadow appeared out of nowhere, twisting and contorting into the shape of a tall, handsome, dapper dressed demon, the tiny handheld radio you had in your hands slid from your weakened grip and your heart skipped a beat. As he stepped nearer, the perceived humanity of his appearance disappeared before your eyes - long, black fingers ending in red talons, small antlers sitting in between fluffy crimson-colored ears, razor-sharp teeth and blood-red irises shining with curiosity. He stopped just a foot away in front of your bed. As he began to talk, to introduce himself - as though being summoned by gravely sick human women were the norm - you stopped him with a raise of your hand, the action draining your already weakened body and mind.

"I know who you are. Alastor, the Radio Demon."

"My reputation precedes me, then!", he chimed, his voice pointed, melodic and so enchantingly and contradictorily full of life. His whole posture, his devious smile and the way his eyes glinted in the dim moonlight made it very clear that he was a dangerous creature, and yet, you felt strangely at ease.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this summoning, my dear?"

You swallowed hard, knowing full well that if you wanted him to accept your deal, you needed to choose your words carefully.

"I... I am dying."

Alastor's grin twitched, but he said nothing, only tilted his head and waited for you to continue, hands folded behind his back.

"I've been sick my whole life, I...", you felt the need to explain, so that your offer wouldn't sound so... well, pitiful.

"Ever since I was born, I have been bound first to my crib, then to a bed, the hospital and now this hospice. I have never been allowed or even able to go to school, or make friends, or just... do things that children ought to do. Even though my life was always going to be short lived."

You could feel tears forming in your eyes, but blinked them away - you didn't want to cry in front of him, you felt pathetic as you were already. "I missed out on every milestone, every first experience a girl should have. First trip to a park, first day at school, first friend, first kiss, first... everything. And I'll miss out on so many more. I just want to have one normal thing, one 'first' before I die. One memory of a real and happy experience. Of something good."

"And what, pray tell, would that be?", he asked, a brow raised, his smile growing wider. He could probably hear the beating of your heart as you took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never.

"I want to lose my virginity."

The silence following your calmly stated confession was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. It took a while for Alastor to say something.

"Oh my, you really don't mince words, do you, darling?"

You shook your head.

"I have no time to waste. Every second counts."

"Believe me, little one, I'm quite... flattered that you'd go through the trouble of a summoning ritual for this... let's call it: venture. But... why me? Aren't there any men up here you would rather be with?"

"Have you looked at me?", you laughed bitterly. "I'm a sick, dying 20-something in a hospice bed. No man would ever so much as touch me. If I'd even get to meet anyone, since I can't get out of this bed anymore without a nurse. I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, not even money. I have only my soul. Please."

The last word came out as a whisper. Alastor's eyes glowed red in the growing darkness, his grin ever-present. He seemed to consider it for a moment, the sound of humming static the only sound in the room and you feared he might reject you.

"If I were to agree, would you truly be willing to pay the price for it? Your soul, darling, is a very precious thing. Do you know the implications of it's loss?"

You nodded.

"Yes. You can have it. It's not worth anything anyway."

Alastor stepped forward, his eyes locked with yours. He didn't sit down on the bed, instead he stood right beside you, bending over until his face was just inches from yours, the back of his hand lightly brushing your fringe out of your face. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of blood and something earthy, like wet soil or moss. He smelled like a forest in autumn.

"It is worth quite a bit, actually. More than you can imagine, I'd wager.", his voice was quiet, almost unfiltered and utterly beautiful. "But I can see you are dead set on it - Pardon the wordplay."

His sharp claw pressed into your skin, eliciting a gasp. He followed the curve of your cheek to your chin, lifting it to better access the side of your neck, just under your jaw. Your skin broke out in goosebumps because for the first time in your life, you felt a touch that was not clinical, not meant to treat you or wastefully bide you more time. This touch was gentle and purposeful. Sensual, maybe. A soft sigh escaped you against your will.

Alastor let out a hum that was not entirely unhappy, before bringing his face dangerously close to yours. You could feel the ends of his fluffy hair tickling your face, the tip of his nose lightly brushing against your skin.

"A happy memory, you say. One satisfying experience in return for your soul. I am certainly not usually known for my kindness, dear.", he muttered against the skin of your cheek, before turning towards your lips. So close. Your heart was beating as loud and as fast as it could, making you dizzy. "But I think we have ourselves a deal."

The golden hour has passed, turning bright orange light into fading blue to black. And the air was turning colder. The memory of that night was the only thing you thought about as you slowly felt death approaching.

The way his lips felt against your mouth, his tongue and the sweet taste he left on your lips that still lingered whenever you ran yours across them, recalling the sensation just once more. He had been gentle, patient, always asking and never assuming or forceful. He made sure you were comfortable before exploring you, careful in the places he touched, mindful in tasting you, praising you for the sounds you made. He allowed you to do your share of exploring, too, and although he wasn't human you found his body still wonderfully, beautifully male, no matter his thin, soft taupe fur and his many, shimmering scars. The memory of the moment when he had finally filled you, tender and slow, was as much sweet pain as it was blissful pleasure, and you found solace in his warmth and the steady, rhythmic pace of him moving inside you as you spilled his name, over and over again until he spent himself inside you, bodies deeply connected. It was hard for you to believe that all of it had been actually true, and not just one big fever dream your dying mind had cooked up to send you off gently when Alice woke you from your sleep later that night, wondering aloud why you didn't turn off the little, handheld radio on the floor that was still playing soft jazz music.

But the little, red and blue marks on your collarbones and the one red-and-black strand of hair you had found on your pillow were telltale signs that everything had been indeed real, and you made sure every detail was etched into your heart, into your body and into your skin. It was, and would remain forever, the happiest moment of your entire life.

'I hope my soul is worth enough...' you thought as the coldness finally embraced you, tears running freely down your cheeks now, but the smile on your face was wide and warm, and the last thing you heard before falling into your final sleep was the gentle hum of a breeze that brought in the smell of earth and rain and leaves.

Alastor had no need for sleep. He usually didn't spend his nights sitting in his favorite chair, motionless, listening to music. He was far too busy, too full of life and plans and energy to sit around and just wait for morning. And yet, there he was, sitting and brooding for the last month, every night, his ears tuned in on the low, static-y noise coming from the old-fashioned radio he was holding. A radio eerily similar to hers.

'How did it come to this?', he wondered for the thousandth time, like a broken record. 'Why did I do it?'

He couldn't fathom the reason for his actions that night, why he had given in to the strange, frivolous request of the frail young woman. Why he had agreed to take her virginity, of all things, in exchange for her soul. Granted, she wasn't the first to offer him that, not by far. But usually, the soul was the last thing a sinner offered, after a great many things of lesser value had been already offered and declined in return. It was, in essence, the most desperate measure, taken only by those who had nothing else to lose.

And yet, she had promised him her soul in the very beginning, treating it not as a valuable bargaining chip, but as an expendable object. A thing without use or worth. He didn't know what had intrigued him so much that night. She had been sickly and fragile, her skin almost translucent in the pale light, and yet there was a spark in her eye. Determination, maybe. Her voice had been strong, if quiet, and her smile, although sad, was still familiarly bright. The way she spoke and her body language had made it clear that she had been not as much afraid of him, despite her frail and vulnerable position, as she had been anxious about his response. She was clearly clever and resolute, despite her lack of personal experience. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to follow through the summoning ritual.

"I have nothing to offer a partner anymore. No beauty, no future, no money. O only have my soul. Please."

He couldn't remember a single instance where someone had begged him with the simple word please and he gave into it. And yet, he had accepted her plea - The whole of her soul, in exchange for a meager, single moment of ridiculous passion. The mere thought had repulsed him before: Body on body, blunt thumps of fleshes, debauched obscenities... it was something that had never held his interest. He felt like it was something unrefined and animalistic, something he had always regarded as unnecessary and obsolete. Until then.

Her body had responded so eagerly, so sensitive, so ready to his touches. It had been clear she hadn't lied about her virginity, and yet her eagerness, her fearlessness had surprised him. Acting solely based on instinct and the morals he was brought up with, no real experience of his own himself, he had tried to be as careful and gentle as he could, and somehow, her inexperience had made it... easier. She was not expecting anything in terms of skill, and thus he had to guide her through the process, allowing him to set the pace and giving him ample time to react to her reactions. Sweet gasps, subtle tremors, faint flushes - all of which had told him how she had felt, what had been pleasurable and what had been uncomfortable. He had been able to take his time and make sure she enjoyed herself. It had been fascinating and even... pleasurable for him, too.

Despite the obvious pain, she had kept her eyes open, watching his face intently as they connected. He had felt the warmth and the tension around him, and her little, breathy gasps had been such pleasant sounds that when she had finally found her release, it had triggered his own, foreign as it had been. She had sighed his name in pure bliss, and in that moment he had felt as powerful and as satisfied as the night he had gained his title as Radio Demon.

And when the deed had been done, the girl had smiled so serenely, he was sure he had rarely ever seen anything that could rival her in beauty.

Alastor shifted uncomfortably at that thought, trying to will away the memory and the sensation that the mere thought of her smile invoked.

It had taken a few minutes, but eventually he had collected himself and put his clothes back on. Her eyes had followed him, the spark back in them and even brighter than before, her smile not faltering even when her tired lids had drooped down, slowly lulling her to sleep. Alastor had stood there, in the small, plain hospice room, watching her for a while, a strange feeling in his chest. The deal hadn't been solidified by a handshake, her soul not yet firmly bound to him and the contract void if not officially sealed, but he couldn't bring himself to wake her. Something had stopped him.

The memory of her face, pale and beautiful, smiling so peacefully even in her slumber, made the corners of his lips twitch. She would've made a magnificent addition to his collection of souls. And yet, and yet... He had decided then and there that her soul would find its way to him, eventually. But not through the proposed deal. So, he had left, the exchange unfulfilled, the pact broken, turning on the small radio she had let slip onto the floor just as he heard her caretaker returning to check on her.

'Oh, how the mighty have fallen.', he mused bitterly, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"Alastor?"

Charlie's voice was a mix of concern and curiosity, muffled by the thick, wooden door of his room. She sounded worried, probably wondering why he had excused himself from the hotel's interactions more and more for the past weeks. He was about to ignore her, not in the mood to talk to anyone, especially not her, persistent thing that she was, but when her soft knock followed her call, his smile widened tightly and his eyes flashed red.

"Charlie, dear, I'm afraid I'm not available at the moment.", he called out, his tone a bit sharper than usual.

"Sorry, but...", the princess sounded hesitant, and he could hear her shuffle awkwardly outside. "It's just... There is someone in the lobby, wanting to speak to you. It seems... important."

He got up from his chair with an annoyed sigh and switched off the radio, straightened his clothes and smoothed out his hair and bow tie with one swipe. Whatever business matter was brought forward, Alastor didn't feel like discussing it. The smile he wore was razor sharp and dark, a result of his annoyance and brooding mood, and yet he couldn't bring himself to feign his cheery personality just quite yet. Maybe this mystery visitor would be a suitable punching bag to let off some of that steam.

When Alastor finally opened the door and walked down to the lobby next to a flustered looking Charlie, his breath hitched involuntarily and he froze mid-stride. Charlie stumbled at the sudden lack of motion next to her, the deafening static sound and the chime-like tuning of a radio startling her so much she flinched away from him.

"H-Hey Al!?", she called in shock, "Are you okay?"

He didn't move, didn't even react - his attention was solely focused on the figure standing at the front-desk, who, just a moment ago, had talked to Husker before turning around upon hearing him.

Hell kept her skin white and almost translucent in it's spite, but granted her soft, shimmering silvery fur in it's mercy. Her frame wasn't thin and frail anymore, she looked plush and healthy, soft curves where there had been nothing more than skin and bone before. Keeping almost all of her human features intact, the small, round ears protruding from her hair, the pink-tipped nose and the long and slender tail were definitely characteristics of a dormouse, their ends almost silver and soft-looking. Her eyes were of the same gentle color that he remembered, and when her lips spread into a sad, tender smile his breath was stolen away completely.

It was the same smile. The very one he hadn't been able to purge from his mind, and most likely never would.

"Alastor."

The sound of her voice, quiet and melodic as it had been weeks before, felt like an invisible touch that pulled the air out of him. Not enough to suffocate him, but he was still reeling none the less.

"So you finally succumbed, it seems..."

His usual bravado was absent, his voice lacked it's sharp, jovial tone, sounding more like he was actually talking. Charlie could do little more but watch with widened eyes, seemingly unable to fathom the scene right in front of her.

"What are you talking about, Alastor? How do you know...", the princess spoke carefully and uncertain, her eyes wandering from one demon to another, but she was quickly interrupted, not by him, but by...

"It's a long story better told another time, Miss Charlie.", she said with a genuine smile on her face, still not able to take her eyes off Alastor. She took a few tentative steps towards him, careful, but certain in her movement, a confidence about her that hadn't been there before. Her head tilted in an enigmatic way and she spoke again, this time solely directed at him.

"I'm truly sorry to impose. But I was hoping we could talk... privately."

Alastor nodded mutely, not able to think clearly, before taking a deep breath and straightening his back to tower over her once again. Husk seemed to notice his shift in composure, raising a brow when he passed him by on his way back behind the bar, noticing the strangely satisfied looking smile on Alastor's face that was as unnerving and frightening as always, but with a different tint that even Husk must've trouble placing guessing by the suspicious look that fell over the cat's face.

"Of course, my dear, my office will suffice. If you'll excuse us, Charlotte? We'll be only a short while."

He didn't wait for her response but took his guest by her arm and guided her past an astonished Husk and clearly confused Charlie, leading the girl down the hall and to his office, the air between them thick with something undefinable, and neither of them dared to speak until the heavy mahogany door fell shut, effectively cutting off all outside interference.

Her cheeks were flushed when she stepped closer towards him. The tips of his claws brushed against her fringe, following the curve of her soft ear, across the back of her delicate neck to pluck a strand of her hair, pulling it towards him and running the silky fiber between two fingers and over the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his lips with a deep, pleased inhale.

She looked up at him, her smile shy but hopeful.

"You remember me.", she said with a chuckle, her voice a bit higher, her ears twitching and her tail swaying behind her, showing her emotions all too easily. Alastor nodded, not letting go of her hair just yet.

"How could I not, dear. It's not common for me to leave a contract unsettled, you know."

"I had a feeling that might've been the case, since it took me so long to find you.", she said quietly. "So, my soul..."

"... is still yours, yes."

She wasn't looking at him, directly. Her gaze went over his suit, to his hands and cane, then back to the floor.

"Why?", she asked, a hint of confusion and hurt in her voice, her silken hair slipping from his fingers.

"Why didn't you claim it? You had every right, after all. I offered, you agreed and..."

Alastor didn't speak, couldn't speak. The answer was right on the tip of his tongue, and yet he wasn't sure if he wanted to share it. It felt... strange, and foreign, and not quite comfortable. But it was undeniably true, now - with her in front of him - clearer than any time in the last weeks in his chair, each night, in front of the fireplace.

He wanted her. Not just her soul. Her. So, he settled on silence and a half-truth, instead.

"It wasn't the right time, dear."

Her face turned to him, her eyes searching his. He felt exposed, like her eyes were piercing him.

"And now...?"

"That remains to be seen. Why are you here?", he countered, stepping back to put a more comfortable distance between them.

"I came to see you, because..." She swallowed hard, and Alastor watched her throat, the soft swell of her breasts under her modest blouse, the slight rise of her belly. "When I arrived in hell, I felt... weird. I thought it was because of all the changes, this new body and... generally being here. But it didn't go away, this.... feeling. I made friends with a lovely imp couple, they took me in after I fell. The wife, Millie, took me to a doctor because she got worried when I couldn't stop throwing up..."

Her face grew hot, a flush spreading across her cheeks, her ears folding back against her head.

"Alastor, I'm pregnant."

A loud bang rang through the hallway as Alastor dropped his cane and a deafening feedback noise filled the room. For the first time in what must have been decades, his face betrayed him completely, the smile ripping at the sewn edges as it dropped violently. He felt dizzy and his head was spinning.

"Impossible.", he breathed, the word almost getting stuck in his throat. The very notion was ridiculous, unheard of - clearly that must be a crude joke. Alastor started to laugh, though sounding not as amused and booming as he would've hoped, but more hysterical than anything else.

She stayed silent, looking at him with sad, but serious and almost pleading eyes as the truthfulness of her confession began to sink in and his laughter slowly died. He took a tentative step forward, a million questions running through his head, the sheer amount overwhelming his usually so precise mind.

"So, a month ago, it...", he stopped, feeling the corners of his mouth pull wider.

"...yes. The doctor told me there are only a handful similar cases like this known since hell was created... The circumstances are 'too specific' and it normally takes a vast amount of intimate interactions' between a hellbound sinner and a living, fertile human he said... Seems like you knocked me up with one round, buster." She wrung her hands, her smile forced and unsure. "Listen, Alastor... I know it sounds impossible. I mean, I couldn't believe it at first when he told me so I understand you can't, too... but I don't expect anything, I really don't. I just... I wanted to see you again, and-and you deserve to know, and..."

"Darling, hush.", Alastor interrupted, a sense of clarity taking hold of his chaotic mind. He had never felt a desire for a family, not in his lifetime nor in his death. Partners were liabilities and a distraction, relationships nuisances if they strayed beyond the borders of business or at the very most friendly aquaintances. He had no need for things like these in the past, looking down on people desperate to seek out partners, claiming to be lonely when in truth they were just weak or simply starving for a touch of the 'opposite sex' to make up for their own inadequacy.

Now, faced with the reality of fatherhood in a matter of minutes and the prospect of his life being bound to another - one who, undoubtedly, bore his child, no less - Alastor would be lying if he had claimed a part of him didn't absolutely reel at the prospect. A responsibility greater than his own had just fallen into his lap - a vulnerability he never asked for and certainly didn't expect.

But.

A part of him would come into the world, no matter whether it would look human, or demonic like him, or whatever strange combination of them both: This child would be proof of him. Him, not anyone else. There would be a person dependent on him for guidance and protection, a legacy he would be allowed to leave, a lineage that could one day claim that he, Alastor, had been the founding cause. His legacy. His blood and his seed had created another being against all rules and logic, an offspring, maybe a girl, maybe it would resemble him, or her, or even... his mother.

Despite the incredulity and the sheer panic the revelation brought, the longer he looked at the tiny dormouse in front of him, the more he realized how similar her traits were to his own mother's. Soft, but determined. Sad, but brave. Young but aged.

No, this hadn't been just some fleeting fling - Alastor had to believe in fate, given what she told him. There had been a reason why he didn't seal the deal that night. Why he had agreed to her request so easily. The more Alastor thought about the potential of a shared offspring, along with a loyal partner on his side, about the what-ifs and could-bes, the more appealing and pleasant the future appeared. She was carrying a being he created, one that had his essence – All the more stronger his grin widened, stretching so far it caused his cheeks to ache, but his blooming glee knew no bounds. He saw, to his own surprise, not a weakness or vulnerability.

But his greatest achievement.

With a laugh, this time sincere and booming and loud instead of hysterical, he picked her up on her waist, knocking the air out of her in a gasp, and swung her around several times.

"O-oh! Oh my goodness!", she stuttered, eyes wide and brows furrowed. "Alastor, calm down!"

"Oh, no no no, I simply can't! Dear, do you have any idea what a marvel you have wrought!?", he exclaimed in delight, setting her back down and bringing both hands up to her cheeks. "We've created a magnificent abomination!"

Her head shook as she chuckled, still nervous but with an edge of relief in her voice. "That's certainly one way of saying it. But... are... are you saying that... you are okay with it? That you..."

"What, dear?", he cooed, her big eyes shining hopefully as her ears twitched curiously. His chest swelled with affection, and he gently squeezed her cheeks between his hands.

"Does a daddy on your side scare you, darling?"

"N-No-oh."

The title invoked a peculiar reaction, and he made a mental note to use it again soon enough, as her cheeks flushed in a dusty rose. Alastor felt an unfamiliar and somehow primal pleasure at the sight of it, a surge of happiness in his chest, the warmth of it nearly too much. He pulled her face against his, smothering her with a kiss. He wasn't familiar with such embraces, but she felt like she was specifically molded to fit perfectly into him, her ears flicking with every beat of her racing heart.

There were tears welling in her beautiful eyes, and as he kissed her cheeks and brushed them away with his thumbs. Oh yes, Alastor was filled with a new kind of giddy excitement.

"Come on, dear, let's not waste time to spread the good news!", he exclaimed, unable to reign his euphoric mood, and before she could comment on his actions, he reached out and lifted her over his shoulder in one fluid movement, ignoring her startled squawk. The look of utter bewilderment on her face almost made him break out into more laughter, but he was already out the door, ready to take his child's mother, who was, without a doubt in his mind, bound to him forever with a force much stronger than any deal he could've made, downstairs to tell the news to his fellow friends, who would have no choice but to learn what a truly dangerous deal looked like.

[remidyal]

So I'm going to start speculating a little about future D20 seasons, just because we're running out of JY and thinking about that makes me sad.

My guess is that we're getting another four side quests, plus the replays of the Time Quangle live shows, before whenever the next IH season is (probably jan or feb 2025). From Dropout's production schedule, most likely at least two, probably three, and maybe all four are either already filmed or filming presently. The strikes may have disrupted this somewhat, however.

We know the names of two from the 5th anniversary video; we also know from the JY FAQ for a fact that one of these two, called "Never Stop Blowing Up" is next.

In the last few years this has been the slot for a campaign not GMed by Brennan or Aabria; I'm going to actually guess that there's a decent chance Brennan also won't be a player though I'm not at all sure of the timing with paternity leave and all. What the season is from that title could be a lot of things, though social media stars or stuntpeople have been guesses I've enjoyed. I think this is going to be a new setting, rather than something set in a preexisting universe, but I could be wrong there and there's been speculation that it might be something Starstruck (in which case I WOULD expect Brennan at the table).

GM possibilities for this or any other season even just from among people who have played on D20 before are too widespread to even do a complete list; highlights who have played on but haven't GMed for D20 and who I understand have experience (and would be excited to see) include but certainly aren't limited to Jasper, Ify, and Anjali from various side quests. Among the IH, Siobhan has made it fairly clear that she's not interested in GMing. I don't know if Ally has experience or not but they would obviously run something wild and I'd be here for it. Lou I believe has DMed home games but not actual plays; I'm uncertain if he'd be interested in running for a show, but I'd certainly watch if he did. Emily and especially Murph have a ton of experience as well but I think NADDPOD is kind of too much for Murph at least to GM outside that. Zac is low-key the IH I think is the most likely to end up GMing a season; rotating heroes is a thing, of course, but I don't think the workload there is as high as NADDPOD's.

We also know a Dungeons and Drag Queens 2 is coming at some point. The most likely format for this is a straightforward sequel with Brennan GMing for either the same four players or four different Queens, but I would actually love to see one of the players from the prior run step into the GM seat if any of them have gotten deeply into the hobby in the meantime. If they swap Brennan out for another DM here, this would maybe be the one season where I'd be delighted for it to be Murph, simply for the makeup possibilities. (One possibility is simply that he wears Cody Walsh cosplay for the season.)

I also think (or maybe I'm just trying to speak into existence) that we will get another 10-episode Aabria-GMed season this year, probably as the lead-in right before the next IH season for the third time running. Burrow's End and ACoFaF are both out of this world, stellar seasons to me (MiMa is... complicated by how much I want the property it's mocking to fade from memory, but that isn't its fault or hers) and I want to see what she does next.

Last, probably between D&DQ2 and that 10-episode season if that happens, we'll probably have another 4-6 episode original. If Brennan DMs D&DQ2 and Never Stop Blowing Up, this will probably be someone else; otherwise, not much to go off of.

It's possible that the live shows end up filling in one of these slots and are treated as a season until themselves, but I think they're going to be released not all in a row but rather to fill weeks between seasons. This might just be a greedy hope on my part, though! I do hope Brennan sits out at least one season, and I'd love it if the person who GMs who isn't Aabria or Brennan is someone who's done less prominent projects. (I'm actually talking myself into really rooting for a Zac-GMed season, though Ify's been my main hope for a long while.)

One thing that does seem to have shifted lately, specifically in Dropout's marketing - in the past, they were always extremely secretive about seasons past the currently airing one until it was complete, with the names not even known until the release of the season trailers. This changed a little when they teased Matt Mercer gming a season (which turned out to be RavWar) during Never After's airing; it's changed much more in the last two seasons, with a teaser for Junior Year coming out before Burrow's End had even started airing and with the names of multiple seasons being given in advance. It wouldn't surprise me if we continue getting little seeds for future seasons as we move forward.

[shrimp-buffet]

LARRY & LAWRIE HEADCANONS #3

(Headcanons after the cut, I ramble for a bit)

*head pops out of grave* I'M ALIVEEE

Yeah I know I say this in practically every post but I finally got something again! school and other stuff kicked my ass and honestly i wasn't sure how interested really was in making these until I missed them! So while I can't guarantee any consistent posting knowing me, I can at least say that I do plan to keep doing these and I'm hoping to branch out into other fandoms so that me making these doesn't fully depend on me having a Brawl Stars hyperfixation.

Anyways as a sort of apology for the lack of content, I bring you the follow up I know many have been waiting for: LARRY AND LAWRIE PART 3 BABY!

Hope you enjoy!

Fair warning: this one may be a small bit angsty in some spots. Nothing that would need an actual warning but didn't want to jumpscare y'all with surprise sadness.

Larry based, Lawrie based, both

•Larry's most rebellious action would be putting a soda can in the non-recycling bin... Then feeling extremely guilty and fishing it back out to put it in the correct bin when no one is looking.

•Lawrie has an apocalypse bunker hidden somewhere in the park. It's only for them, Larry, and RT.

•Lawrie likes Bob Ross! They don't like to paint all that much though. Larry does like painting but he's really bad at it.

•They've never been outside the park before. Lawrie is pretty content with that fact and doesn't want to leave, but Larry wants to see what's out there and occasionally asks parkgoers about it.

•Larry gets along well with animals (add this and the last one and Larry is a fricking Disney princess- /j)

•Lawrie is the exact opposite, all animals hate them and they hate all animals in return.

•As somewhat implied already, Lawrie is kind of leaning towards a "hate all biological life" mindset. They don't actually full-on hate lifeforms entirely, but people don't really like them so they don't like people, that kind of deal. This leads Lawrie to sometimes say stuff teetering on the "kill all humans" line but Larry calls it out and Lawrie would always agree they're going a bit too far.

•Larry as usual is the opposite. He finds life and people to be so interesting and envies their experiences. They even somewhat avoid hanging out with other robots because it reminds him that he's also just a robot, though he doesn't even realize this thought process. He would never admit it, but he kind of wishes he was human. Lawrie can sense this so it causes some arguments between the two.

•On a more light-hearted note, Larry has a bit of a crush on Melodie! She's very pretty, sings beautifully, and does whatever she wants and says anything on her mind, all of which Larry loves and admires.

•Out of all the people in the park, Lawrie gets along with Draco and Hank the best. Draco is more of a frien-emy that can get on their nerves a lot but they have a lot of similar interests like music taste. And Hank is a semi-friendly rival.

•Larry, Lawrie, and R-T were all made on the same day. When it comes to the birthday though they celebrate it as R-T's day cause they just love their "baby" sibling. (Plus in Lawrie's case they just don't like the idea of having their own birthday)

•Larry is scared of Cordelius. He just gives them the creeps and somehow always manages to accidentally sneak up on Larry. (Same goes for Lily)

•Larry has a notebook they carry around to do made up math problems in when they're bored.

•Lawrie usually never wishes they could eat food, but he does wish he could try chocolate.

•They tend to play "road trip" games when they're bored on a patrol together. Things like Eye Spy, 20 Questions, Alphabet Game, etc. They both really enjoy it!

•They also listen to true crime podcast together.

And that's all I got for now! Thank you for reading this far!! As always if you'd like more let me know!!!

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

John Price x Reader

Part One | Part Three

With your Captain at the brink of death and little supplies left to keep you covered, the two of you do what little you can to hold out and distract yourselves until help arrives.

TW//: Blood, Mentions of Death

Angst, Drama, Romance, Action, Suspense, Tense, Near Death Experiences, Confessions of Love, Light Fluff, Confessions, Light Bickering, canon inaccuracies probably, but hopefully not, slight character study, medical inaccuracies, I'm no nurse, I'm a film major :(, a mopey rollercoaster, but the ending is worth it hopefully

Word Count: 4.2k

Took me a few days to ponder what I wanted to do with this (I'm so indecisive), but at last, I finished. I wanted it to be sad, I'm not sure if I succeeded, but I promise it's not pointlessly sad (probably isn't even sad). Also, let me know if I should follow this up with a Part 3 (which would be the final part of this, might do it any way but if this was actually garbage I will keep it pushin'). Regardless, I had fun typing this, I felt rusty typing something actually angsty. I hope you enjoy! ( ㄕཀ ʖ̯ ཀ)

taglist: @tapioca-marzipan @spooky-pomegranate

Thank you again, I hope it was worth the wait (T^T)>

Stay awake. You tell yourself again and again -- stay awake. Don't succumb to the fatigue, ignore the pain in your arm, and keep your foot on the gas. It's either that or you lose Price right here and now.

You look over at your Captain after five more minutes had passed, with nothing but the rocky road and its hills ahead of you to keep you company. Price kept his pistol in hand and his tired blue eyes on the perimeter outside the convoy. He didn't have much to say anymore; it was taking all his energy just not to bleed to death.

His chest rises and falls with each heavy breath he forcibly conjured out of himself. By now his blood stained his seat, growing larger with each hill you've passed. Your Captain would be an angel already had you not found more supplies in the vehicle to temporarily patch him up with. Though he seemed adamant about staying alive, nonetheless.

The night sky darkens, and the road ahead demonstrates its need to be endless. Price had told you before that he had no intention of bleeding to death. You desperately want to believe him.

Clouds roll over the moon, which for a while had shared its glow alongside the headlights of your recently stolen convoy. Its absence only makes you feel more boxed in, placed behind the wheel with your dying Captain. The outskirts of Urzikstan appear an even less welcoming place than before. With its encompassing darkness, your fears of what lie in them only grew, the longer you drove and yet to encounter your destination.

The hills now tower around your vehicle like walls, painted pitch black, becoming mountainous the further out you drive. Had you not seen the fallback zone around the corner, you would have thought yourself lost.

You park the convoy a short ways to the rear of the location: a small, rundown house long abandoned since all the fighting in the area re-escalated. The house was on the outskirts of some empty town not too far away that both AQ, the Russians, and the locals avoided, seeing as the next nearest town was where you just left, and anywhere beyond this point was under AQ and Russian control. It should be a safe place to lie low until your exit is available again.

Price made sure there were a few safe areas to fall back to, in case things went wrong during the mission. Which they most certainly did. You wouldn't even have needed to be here in the first place, had everything not continued to go wrong after acquiring the vehicle. Your bad luck has hopefully since ceased.

However, the night hadn't been over yet. That much had been proven true only a half hour ago.

In a matter of minutes after making your vehicular getaway, AQ had caught up to you, all in convoys, and armed to the teeth. Had Nikolai not been around the corner with his helicopter, you and Price would have surely been run off the road at some point, being as injured as you both are and with hardly any ammo left to spare.

You could only see in your rearview mirror the destruction Nikolai created behind you, the sky having lit up with the flames of your unwanted pursuers. It had almost been perfect, until shrapnel and gunfire damaged Nikolai's helicopter too much during that last-second rescue, forcing him to retreat.

You could still picture watching him fly away, seeing that shadowy monstrosity fly off into the sky, until the hills had swallowed it whole. Watching your only exit out of here fly off into the distance absolutely gutted you. The small sliver of hope you hadn't yet lost had all but gone away with him. Yet you knew it was the safest thing to do. Your LZ had been compromised, and it wouldn't have done any good if you all piled on just to get blasted out of the sky moments later.

So instead, a change of plans was made. Nikolai, being the resourceful individual he was, had other means of escape worked out. He just needed to get there first.

Knowing this, your new objective had been clear and simple for you both: Stay alive.

You park the convoy and shut the vehicle off, watching the headlights die and a chilling silence fall in the air. All you can really do is take a moment and breathe.

Your right arm -- still very much broken and in pain -- rested limply in your lap, begging for a sling. A throbbing headache has not left you since taking that RPG blast only an hour or so ago. With having to wait to be saved now, time felt as though an hourglass had just been rested on its side.

You peek back through your window, seeing the empty hills behind you. No one's been in pursuit since Nikolai's interference earlier. Hopefully, their absence meant you'd finally lost them. You felt you had run all out of hope tonight, yet it's all that felt real and obtainable anymore.

"It seems quiet enough," you start to unbuckle your seat belt. "It's probably safe to head inside now."

You wait for your Captain's reply, only to be met with silence.

"Price?"

You look over to find the Captain lying slumped against his seat, his eyes closed and as still as a statue. The sight makes your blood run cold and your heart quake with fear.

"...Price," you reach over and rest a hand on his shoulder, beginning to shake him. Praying that he'll wake up. "Price, stay with me, Captain. Come on, wake up."

You shake and shake him, but the man doesn't budge from his sudden unconsciousness, his body only moving along to the hold you had over his shoulder. At each little shove you make of him, your eyes further lock on the still features of his face, desperation filling you.

You've tried so hard to keep your composure tonight, if not for yourself then for him. You had wanted to return the favor for all the times he's helped you from the brink of death before. The many times Price has been your last glimmer of hope when you feared none was there to have. You wanted to be that for him now. To show him he needn't shoulder such things alone. He couldn't die now.

"Price, please-"

The Captain starts to cough himself out of whatever slumber he'd found himself in, his face grimacing with pain as he hugged his wounded side. "I'm good..." he claims. "...'ave we made it?"

You look at Price, frustrated at his cavalier attitude, despite having been so used to it before. Frankly, your emotions could not handle it at the moment, given the fact that only a second ago you could have sworn he'd just died.

"It's getting worse," you state.

"I'll be fine," he protests.

"Price," he can hear in your tone you're trying to be real with him now. "Just because you wanna act like it's nothing, doesn't mean that it is-"

"Last I checked, we've little time for us to fuck about right now, lieutenant."

"You just passed out."

Price opened his mouth, prepared to argue more, but pauses when he realizes that he can't really argue at all. He had passed out, and he wasn't so prideful to claim that it wouldn't happen again either. So he instead settles down, allowing you to take the reigns and go back to focusing on the important matters.

"...I know," he says. "I'm sorry... Are you holding up alright?"

"I'm doing better than you."

Then that's what matters most, Price had thought. "I don't doubt it," he says. "And here I was hopin' I'd go out in a more dignified fashion than this-"

"Stop it," you take his hand again, shutting down whatever pity talk he was beginning to spew. Not wanting it to worry you that he's gotten to this point. "Look, we're at the safehouse now. That should make not bleeding to death a hell of a lot easier."

"Or at least more comfortable," Price quips. Though your humorless expression only makes him digress. "There should be more supplies inside."

"Let's just get inside before you pass out again."

It's a struggle to get him inside, and twice as much a struggle to patch his wound up. Price had the place generously stocked with a resupply of weapons, ammo, and medkits, though it wouldn't be enough to change the current dilemma that your Captain was in.

Once your arm had been slung (DIY style), you immediately tended to Price. However, having to help stitch with your non-dominate hand was an absolute nightmare, as much as your Captain tried to take over for himself. His hands had grown too shaky to hold the needle, it would slip from his grasp every so often, and you hadn't wanted to see him grow more frustrated with the task.

Of course, watching you struggle to stitch only upset him more. You were mostly silent, though Price would see your throat move hesitantly, swallowing heavily at every sudden urge that came to you that wanted to cry. You hadn't wanted to in front of your Captain, you didn't want him to worry about you.

You wouldn't let any amount of hindrances stop you, you closed the wound, redressed it, and checked on it a second time before Price finally had to tell you it would hold. Though closed or not, it mattered little. He'd lost so much blood at this point that it was a miracle he wasn't dead already.

But miracles only last for so long.

In and out of consciousness, Price thought a lot about how silly it would be if he bled to death right now. In such a helpless state, forced to rely on his subordinate to keep him alive. Someone who had felt more than a subordinate, now more than ever. You've seen him blown out of the sky, near beaten to death, stabbed, shot, and then some.

Twenty years of all the shit he's been through in the force, and a gut wound from shrapnel is what takes him out. He almost found it funny.

Price has told himself his whole life he'd be ready when the time comes. He accepts death every day he wakes in the morning and steps out the door. It didn't mean he'd lay down and die, however, ironic now. One way or another, the man just always knew that when he went out it would be fighting. Because he's fought his whole life, it's all he knows how to do.

All he could ever ask for is to die doing what he loves, and this had been that. However, now that this love has brought him here beside you, giving him the fate he's all but manifested for himself, over years of growing pessimism and a longing to be dignified, suddenly, he finds it funny how life can be. Now all of a sudden he doesn't feel so ready to go. He thought he'd be more prepared.

And it's what's killing him most of all. This helplessness death has now brought him.

Had Price not gone ahead and made sure Nikolai stashed medical supplies in the safehouse in advance, he's certain he would be dead right now. Though as it's been said before, the night's not over yet.

"Lieutenant..." Price calls to you faintly.

You look over at the Captain, seeing him still seated beside you, his back resting against the living room wall. Though he still looked pale, cold sweat dotting his skin, and with labored breaths, at least he wasn't bleeding anymore. You did what you could with what was available, however, you were no field medic.

"What's up?" you reply, though your attention stays out the window, towards the dark perimeter outside the safehouse. By now these hills would haunt your dreams.

You remain posted by one of the front windows, your pistol clutched in your feeble hand. Since redressing Price's wound (and your own), you've been on watch; despite numerous failed (and delirious) attempts by your Captain to take watch himself. He was as adamant to see you in better health as you were to him.

As far as you're concerned, you're the one who's in the best shape here, broken arm or not. Beyond the exhaustion, you still had all of yourself with you. That alone made you obligated to be the one that gets you both out of this mess.

However, this is the clearest the man's ever felt, and something else had been on Price's mind. A thought which crossed him, after some realization came, somewhere between silences.

Price asks you faintly "...Will you talk to me?"

You look at your Captain now, perturbed. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothin' beyond the obvious, love," Price shakes his head, before bringing a weak hand up to clear his hoarse throat. "Just tryin' not to livin' the night up by passin' out and fallin' into a coma," he admits.

Fair enough.

"OK..." You turn back to the perimeter, running a million possible icebreakers that you could say right now. It's hard to settle for just one. "Where are we going out to eat after this?"

Price chuckles to himself. "Somewhere with good steak and Guinness would suit me," he jokes.

"Can it be somewhere fancy?" you ask. "I'd love to dress up."

"Mm," Price hums.

You've dressed up a few times before whenever the team went out and there was time. He's always liked how you always kept up appearances, and that it wasn't for any other reason than the fact that you just enjoyed doing so. Evidently, Price has had passing memories of a few choice outfits you've worn, many he wished to see again.

"You've any outfits in mind?" He asks you, wanting you to paint a picture for him. Give him something nice to think about.

You think to yourself for a moment, your ponderous hum filling the silence. "A dress," you state, thinking out loud and conjuring it as you speak, as Price hums with affirmation to each suggestion. "I'm thinking something skin tight... low cut with strings and spaghetti straps. Oh! And with one of those little leg slit things too! And heels."

"That's quite a detailed description," Price teases.

You've had a lot of time to think about it, though you'd never admit that. "Does it sound nice though?"

Had you two been having this conversation elsewhere, Price's mind would have undoubtedly gone somewhere vulgar, only picturing how that dress might look bunched up at your ankles or pushed up in a messy bundle around your waist. He's sure that was your intent when describing it as well.

However, with his mind repeatedly giving way to the black throughout this conversation now, his body gone from numb to feeling light as a feather, all he could picture of you in that dress was the smile you'd have for him instead, with a cluster full of joy shining in your eyes. How happy you would be just to be beside him, just as you are now. In these brief moments where your mind has been taken away from reality.

Does it sound nice, you ask him. You could narrate his dying breath, and the man would have thought it a beautiful thing, having been your words he last could hear before the world finally takes him.

"It sounds lovely," he says.

You swallow, your brave front cracking ever so slightly at his honesty. For some reason, it felt as though gravity just came back to you. You hadn't noticed its absence until now.

"Which is exactly why we're gonna get out of here," you reassure yourself. "So I can model it for you in person, yeah?"

"Exactly why..."

It had been nice talking about something else. Seeing you smiling again had warmed the grown man's heart as greatly as any time before. Price had been itching to see it one more time.

No doubt, he hadn't forgotten about his promise to take you out to dinner once you've both returned. Thinking about it now, at the brink of death without you even knowing... it's a sweet thought, nonetheless.

"I've no idea why you even bother with me..." he says suddenly, his mind fading so much he can hardly hear the words which leave him when they do. However, it had been a growing thought all night.

He's never understood your fondness for him. Price knew he could be hot shit, and he's earned respect from countless of his peers and subordinates alike, but it wasn't because he had been special, he always thought. He saw himself as no different than anyone else on his team choosing to do the same mission.

And surely he was a sorry excuse of a man for putting you through such a thing as this, tonight.

However, the scoff you let out after he says this would suggest you beg to differ.

"Are you kidding?" You say, keeping your gaze out the window, though even from there, Price could see the sudden pride fire up in your eyes. "You're like the greatest guy I know, Captain."

Price chuckles. "...I appreciate that"

"I mean it too," you continue. "We wouldn't be 141 without you. You're smart, you're resourceful, you're kind, but you get shit done too. Not to mention you're a total hunk. You're literally the entire package."

Yeah, you thought, Price is the whole package. There wasn't a man around that you trusted more than your Captain, nor was there anyone you ever wanted respect and companionship from more than his.

You still remember the first time you ever met Price. Laswell practically had to fight the man just to let you onto the team, having doubted your capabilities at the time. And in turn, you were doubtful of him as well.

You'd heard the stories of him back even during your SAS days, talking to the man in short, and tuning him out whenever he grew too overbearing during training. You wanted to say you weren't impressed with him, but even then you could see he wasn't just all talk. So the respect had been begrudgingly earned, to start with.

It wasn't until after a few high-tense missions with him that you finally started to get along. You both may bicker and avoid one another on base, but on the field you two worked together like fire and lightning, perfectly complimenting each other.

Price always was fair and reasonable, giving no doubt to his abilities as a leader. His confidence always felt reassuring in the most stressful of operations. While he could be a hard-ass, he was equally proud and gave praise whenever credit was due. Eventually, you started to crave it.

Price always liked how you listened to him, trusting his judgment and taking his advice. He's seen you grow and learn, watching you bleed for your comrades and step into the fire ready, just as he does, and that alone had been respectable to him. You had been so happy to have it too.

The hostility simmered into being cordial, before becoming neutral, and then casual. Your talks warmed, as did your times together. After a while, Price had been as synonymous to you as home ever could be. With all you two have been through, and all the times he's helped you since knowing him, you owe it to him to be his support this time.

"Whenever I'm around you I..." You speak again, but pause shortly, trying to think of the right words to say. "I feel safe," you say. "Like everything's going to be OK, and that soon it'll all be over. Because you're here. I mean, when you pulled me out from that rubble and I saw that you were OK, I just..."

It had felt wrong to ever even have had any doubts then. Because of course Price had been fine, it was Price. That's just who he was.

"I don't think I've ever met a man I've felt so safe around before in my entire life," you say. "Even now-"

You look over, only to be greeted by your Captain lying slouched against the wall, his eyes closed and completely still. Irresponsive. Your smile drops, and your heart sinks to your stomach.

"Captain?"

No response.

You immediately rush to his side and check for a pulse on his neck, your heart shattering when you couldn't find it.

"Price?" Your voice is practically at a whisper now, unable to use your vocal cords to full use, from fear of your voice breaking apart altogether. You place your hand on the side of his face, his skin so cold it makes you shiver, feeling your lip start to quiver and your vision blur with hot tears.

Even now, a small part of you was simply waiting to see him open his eyes again. Expecting him to shrug this off like he does with everything else so easily.

The whole time you sat kneeled in front of your Captain, you kept questioning how you could have let this happen, scolding yourself for this catastrophe. So many emotions flooded within you at one moment, you almost felt unable to process. You wanted to throw up, it was so much. It instead halts you there like a statue, your face frozen blank.

Your grievances are interrupted upon hearing a vehicle approaching outside. Suddenly, you really take in the fact that you're by yourself now. Your heart races, your hands starting to shake and your breathing growing quick. You were on your own.

You press your back against the wall, keeping your pistol close to you. You watch the headlights from outside pool through the window, illuminating the living room and remaining there.

The comms were beside Price; Nikolai would surely notify you if it was him outside. AQ couldn't have found you so soon, could they have?

With a broken arm and your own intuition left, you close your eyes and rest your head back against the wall, repeating to yourself at a whisper, "Please be Nik. Please be Nik. Please be Nik..."

Your comms buzz. "Price, Price, come in," Nikolai radios in. "Help has arrived!"

You let out a broken exhale. For the first time all night, you actually felt some real relief. Though, it was quickly drowned out once you looked back over towards your Captain, still lying there. Only a few minutes shy of being able to know you both would have been rescued tonight.

You reach around Price to grab the comms and radio back in to Nikolai. "Give me a minute, Nik."

You set the comms down, kneeling back in front of your Captain, tears burning in your eyes, your chest on fire.

Seeing him like this had felt so surreal. So unfitting. So unfair.

"Oh John…" You bring your hand down to Price's, holding tightly as his large fingers sat limp in your grasp. Cold and bloodied. You couldn't bring yourself to part from him now. "…I'm so sorry."

Price's hand suddenly twitches in your palm, making you gasp rather meekly. You watch him slowly pry his heavy eyelids open, and he reciprocates the hold you have over his hand, giving you a reassuring squeeze. Letting you know he was alive.

"… I'm right here," Price breathes out. "I'm here…"

Your gasp is broken with both relief and joy, a smile growing on your face and tears streaming down your cheeks. He was alive after all. Of course he was. This is your Captain. This is who John is; forever the class act.

A ping of frustration then hits you, bringing you to shove your Captain suddenly.

"Easy now," he says sarcastically.

"Don’t ever do that again!" you yell at him. "You scared me half to death, you asshole!"

Price raises an eyebrow at your outburst. He then sighs to himself, looking ahead of himself. Content.

"Ah, well…" He retakes your hand again, holding it in his lap for a spell, letting his thumb caress your skin, as he thinks slowly to himself. His breath is as broken as his hand feels in yours, with so much on his mind still left to say. He wouldn't miss these chances no longer. "I love you too."

You open your mouth to speak but then pause. Did he just say that to you? He loves you. Your heart jumped for joy. You didn't lose him after all.

You no longer cared if you looked weak, or unprofessional, or even too emotional, the tears come out and everything you'd been keeping bottled releases into broken sobs, and it feels so good to let them out. You lean into your Captain, burying your head into his chest to cry, which springs a pained "oof" from him in return.

"I'm sorry, Captain," you sit up and wipe the tears from your eyes. "I'm sorry... I really thought I lost you."

"I'm not goin' nowhere," he says. "We've still got that dinner later."

A big, giddy smile paints your face, and then, with a lifetime of moments worth of waiting and build-up to help guide you, you lean forward and let your lips come to Price's. Just in case. You didn't want to take any more chances.

You kiss Price softly, tasting the blood on his tongue and feeling the sting of his beard against your face. He could have been covered in mud for all you cared. You pull your lips away quickly, not having wanted to take up too much time. However, Price chases your lips as you part, finding your mouth again and kissing you back just as longingly. He finally lets himself celebrate the end of this night and the start of tomorrow.

( ´•̥̥̥o•̥̥̥`)♡(˘̩̩̩̩̩̩ ⌂ ˘̩̩̩̩̩̩) part three

[emeritus-fuckers]

First off I apologize if I frequent the confessional (aka the inbox) too often. 😔 pretty new to ghost and I love your writing! Secondly, I saw you wanted fluff requests and I have one that’s not exactly fluff, it’s more hurt/comfort, but it is NOT HORNY (for once). Also since this is such a sensitive and personal topic I 100% understand if you need to refuse it!

-mental health and self harm warning-

How would Papas (or Terzo specifically if you’re short in time but still want to do the prompt) react to and comfort their s/o who feels guilty/ashamed after a mental health relapse? Feel free to keep the specific event vague for your and others’ comfort :) (I recently self harmed and have found a lot of comfort in thinking about my Papa telling me he’s still proud of me and that I’m getting better, still recovering, etc.)

Once again, this is a very difficult topic for many people so I completely understand if this is outside of your comfort zone. (If it is a reject, I would greatly appreciate it if you could reply privately.)Write what you love and have a wonderful day! ❤️

While I usually respond to asks with a little comment, I've already said everything in the dms. For everyone else, though, a reminder: this is a comfort zone for you. If there is anything going on, please don't hesitate message my main if you want to talk about it. I'm here for you. - Jez

Papas self-harm comfort

TW: mentions of self-harm, poor mental health.

Primo

He notices right away. Or maybe he just knows. It's unclear.

He takes you to the garden, knowing that it was a comfort space for you both.

Talks to you about flowers, but you can tell there's something more he's getting to. So you wait, listening to how fondly he would speak about the plants.

"Do you like roses, amore? I find them particularly loveable, even despite their thorns. Over the years, I've hurt myself on them many times, but I can't bring myself to hate them. After all, they're just trying to defend themselves this way, since they don't know that I also protect them."

Something about this little speech made you realize that he knew what you did. And just like that, it all hit you hard enough to make you fall to your knees and start crying, mumbling how sorry you were.

He would carefully help you up and take you to the nearest bench and sits there with you, holding you and rubbing soothing circles onto your back.

"I know it's difficult, my love. I know. But I'm here with you now. I won't hate you or leave you because you're hurting. You just couldn't handle it anymore, could you?"

His voice is so soft and you can hear he's sad, beating himself up over not noticing it earlier, before you relapsed.

"But it's going to get better now. I'm here to protect you. I'll help you get through this."

Secondo

He's always been very direct, which might be why so many people in the Ministry considered him a prick.

The moment he notices just how often you pull your sleeves down is the moment he calls you over to go talk in his room.

He asks to see your arms. And your terrified eyes tell him everything. You've relapsed.

He seemed angry, clenching his fists. And that scared you even more, you almost ran away, but he caught you and pulled to you his chest.

He held you so tight, he almost knocked the air out of your lungs.

And that's when you realize, he's not mad at you. He's mad at himself. He's mad that he let that happen.

And so you both just hold onto each other for a while before he picks you up and carries you to bed. He tucks you in and goes to make dinner for you.

He just kinda goes into house husband mode?

He tries his best to make you feel safe and loved.

He trusts you to talk to him when you're ready. And until then, he's practically glued to you.

Terzo

He knew something was wrong when you didn't return his affection with your regular enthusiasm. At first he thought maybe you were just in a bad mood, but he kept observing you just in case.

After a while he pulled you aside, taking you to his room to talk. He sat on the bed with you, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" He would ask quietly, resting his cheek on top of your head as you curled up to cuddle to him some more.

He could tell you were hesitant, but he wanted to make sure you were comfortable before you spoke. So he just held you and rocked you, kissing the top of your head and humming a soft tune to you.

When you finally opened up, telling him that you've relapsed and started hurting yourself again, he holds you tighter and stays quiet for a while.

After a few minutes, he'd ask if you'd be comfortable to show him where you did it. If you did, he would kiss around your scars, the old and fresh ones, his lips incredibly gentle against your skin.

He lets you cry it out, holding you against his chest.

He wants you to feel safe with him. To know that you can always come to him and talk.

Copia

When you tell him one evening that you need to have a serious conversation with him, he can already tell it's gonna be bad. Although his assumption was that you wanted to break up with him.

But, as it turned out, it was way, way worse.

You already confided in him that you used to hurt yourself, but he never thought you'd relapse!

He's very sad, but tries his best not to show it and just holds you for a while.

He would try and gently ask you for the reason. Did he fail to see the signs? Oh, he did, didn't he?

He's upset with himself that he couldn't prevent it.

Quietly begs you to come to him whenever you have thoughts about hurting yourself again, no matter what he's doing.

Offers to get you a nice therapist.

Tries to make you happier however he can. Dedicates all his free time to you.

Plays video games with you, lets you play with his rats, he's by your side whenever possible.

He really hopes that's at least close to being enough.

Old Nihil

He's incredibly confused when he found out.

This man does not see a single flaw in you, he views you as above perfection.

And for whatever reason, you harmed yourself???

It does not make sense to him. He demands to have you called to his bedroom so he can question you.

He's even more shocked as you break down, crying and apologizing.

"Hey, hey now, stop crying, okay?"

He's just... So awkward as he pats your shoulder and assures you that he loves you, he just really has no clue why you'd want to do that!

He wants you to explain everything to him just so he can tell you you're wrong and interrupting you with his own views of him.

He tries, okay?

Young Nihil

This fucking dumbass...

His first reaction is literally "Why the fuck would you do that?!"

He's in shock and it's basically a defensive reaction.

He doesn't understand why you'd do something so stupid???

He might yell at you at first and only realize after a moment that he's making it worse.

So he apologizes, still a bit grumpy about it, but he holds you close.

"Listen, just... Just don't do that. Okay? I don't wanna lose ya."

He might actually tear up about it once you're asleep. His life was filled with fuck-ups and he'd hate it if he'd lose you.

He's gonna pay more attention to you from now on.

And he's gonna do his best to take care of you.

He's an idiot and he lets him emotions get the better of him, but he really does love you. He' just bad at showing it. Really bad.

[meiloorunsmoothie]

finding neverland, a review of sorts

hello! this is a sort of an after the fact "live blogging" (except all in one post 💀) of my thoughts as i was watching finding neverland (a.r.t. version). i basically just wrote whatever i was thinking down as i was watching, so this is truly very raw (obviously, i've gone in and cleaned some things up + added gifs to help those who read it (and myself if i come back to this post) figure out what on earth i'm blabbing about).

...read at your own risk! (also, in case it wasn't obvious, spoilers ahead)

act 1

THE SCOTTISH ACCENT

when he sings with it too 😭

i was not expecting this to be as funny as it is for some reason

"i don't know why you talk to that dog like he's a person" XD

"and what precisely is this poor wretch's crime?" "he's my younger brother" - yep, checks out

i'm 13 minutes in and i love it already

can we talk about how thayne jasperson as porthos weirdly works

okay wait, but is jeremy actually kind of doing choreography...?

OKAY BUT THIS RIVER SCENE IS SO CUTE

also when he randomly loses the accent

laura michelle kelly is amazing

uh she just coughed. i'm scared and paranoid...maybe laura actually just needed to cough, but i'm going to keep this here in case it is something... (EDIT: IT WAS AND I WILL NEVER RECOVER)

i'm obsessed with this (retroactively, why doesn't it show up again 😭)

"nice try, but no." jack is me.

this is me every day and it's a problem ⬇️

THIS IS SO FUN HOW HAVE I NOT WATCHED THIS SOONER

"perhaps having fun is more important than everything being perfect" - yes!

okay but the ex-ballerina in me is going crazy for the maid choreography

okay sobbing cause "neverland" just happened—it's weird that i've never listened to him sing this before and i'm unsure whether i should just pause now to recover or rewind and watch it again (edit: i did both)

"well at this rate, we'll also have to imagine that there's an audience" - THEM LOOKING AT THE AUDIENCE AFTER THAT IS ABSOLUTELY GENIUS

sylvia's dress is so pretty lol

...this is interesting choreo

but i love the door merry go round

okay i've seen "hook" and "stronger" before, but this is so much better with context

maybe my boot is just really bad (it is) but did he just pull a stick out of his pant pocket

i can't i have no words

act 2

i would very much like to see what's happening on the other side of the curtain

PRINCESS DIGGORY

SHE'S COUGHING AGAIN

this bar scene reminds me of lotr for some reason but i like it, it's very fun

WHAT YOU MEAN TO ME my beloved

the singing while lying down 😳

i am unwell

oh a kid song, let's go - okay but actually, i love this number

HELP THIS WAS LITERALLY ME AND MY SIBLINGS okay how much will i have to pay them to watch this

NOOOOO WHY

WHY

WHY

i'm so upset i can't even bring myself to put a gif here, but we all know what scene.

aiden gemme is doing a great job as peter.

OK BUT THIS DUET

SOBBING

why is there upbeat music do you not know what just happened.

i love it when the audience is part of the show

this whole scene MY HEART I CANNOT

this is so chaotic but i love it it's perfect

CHILLS

i. love. laura. michelle. kelly.

that was beautiful even though it was sad

"mary, you're outside!" akdfasdhflashdfas

i can't (how many times have i said that). this is such a perfect ending

la fin

(until my next rewatch which could be right now)

[qqueenofhades]

I came across a post about some show called The Other Two and it was making fun of Angels in America and I just...I didn't know how to react to it beyond rage. Like do young LGBT+ people understand how important that play is? How much it meant to our community and still means? Why are we all so irony poisoned that we put down the things that gave us comfort in a time where all of us are faced with the very real possibility of being erased from existence and murdered by the right wing nut jobs passing horrible legislation calling us child groomers. I'm so fucking sad and angry.

I'm in two minds about young LGBTQ people these days. On the one hand -- it's great that they get to grow up in an environment where they can (more or less) be themselves, have institutional supports like marriage and Pride Month and LGBTQ characters in media and plenty of visible discussion. It really, really is. All of that progress was hard won and we shouldn't WANT them to have gone through the exact same struggles as their elders. That's always the thing -- fight so your kids can have a better life, and we shouldn't want that to be any other way.

On the other hand, because this is the case, a lot of younger LGBTQ people don't respect the community's struggles, believe that they're real, learn its history, or understand the magnitude of the threat it is once again facing now. Instead they end up doing things like embracing TERF logic and arguing on social media about who has the right to use the most hyper-specific microlabel, pushing us all into smaller and smaller separate boxes because "queer is a slur!!!" and relentlessly gatekeeping and moralizing at other vulnerable people, both inside the community and outside it. And man, that just does not sit right with me. Of course, not all of them are like this, but a not-insubstantial number are, and it troubles me.

As for Angels in America: I saw Part 1 live in 2010, after reading both parts beforehand. It knocked the fucking SHIT out of me, and this is even before I had consciously realized that I myself was queer (though I was already reading a ton of queer lit/history like This Just Seems Neat, because I was clueless). So I don't know why the irony-poisoned postmodern masses feel the need to get their jollies out of taking shots at it, especially since, once again, times have changed and LGBTQ art and experience is represented in a whole lot of other ways than just "AIDS tragedy." Which is as it should be! But if anyone thinks that it's okay to then mock, minimize, ignore, or otherwise discount everything that led us to the point of them smugly having the ability to do that, then yeah. Fuck off. Jfc.

[enchantedblackrose]

Not Pretty

Gif credit @haileyupstead

Jay Halstead/ Fem Reader Partner, mentions of Kim and Erin.

Summary: You and the other girls from Intelligence are sent to a nightclub, but the bouncer won't let you in.

Warnings: No canon timeline. Some swearing, feelings of not being pretty. A dude calls you ugly. Largely unedited but I'm tired of looking at it.

Author's note: I really thought I had such a good idea. Then I sat down to write this and omg this is just...idek. I'm sorry? It's nothing like I thought it would be. And I'm seriously doubting posting it. Huge thanks to Resa for talking it out with me otherwise I'd still be stuck hahaha

A contribution to @resanoona 's 3k Fiesta bingo! Square filled: Hurt Feelings

Not Pretty

"Not you," dripping with disdain and a sneer while the onlookers snicker, echoes in your mind as you sit on the bench in the locker room at the precinct, momentarily sidetracked from gathering your belongings.

You shouldn't be feeling like this. Sad. Defeated. The sense of utter failure lingering over you. You and the team made the bust. And yet all you hear is that bouncer's voice. 

‐

Of course it's a frigid Chicago night as you stand outside the nightclub with members of your team undercover and underdressed. Your knee high boots help conceal your credentials as well as your backup piece, but your left little toe is already numb with pain and you're positive your heels are going to blister. You tug the bottom of your dress as if that will magically make it grow longer.

Kim playfully swats your hand. "Stop fidgeting."

"This dress is tiny and it's freezing," you stick your tongue out and she laughs at you.

"Yes, well in lieu of making your dress longer or warmer, try to relax," she offers you a tentative smile.

Through your earpiece, your partner's voice rings out, "She's right, y/n. You look...fine. just concentrate on the task." Feeling chastised, you scowl in Jay's general direction. He's somewhere in the crowd of people in line for the club in case there's trouble before you even get in. He somehow manages to catch your eye, before you plaster on the fakest of smiles.You turn to Kim just as Erin bounces up to you both, hooking her arms through Kim's elbow and yours. "Ladies! Let's get this started."

Laughing with each step, feigning flippant attitudes, you and the girls walk past the line, straight to the bouncer by the door. He barely glances up from his clipboard.

"Name?"

"You won't find our names on your list, but-"

"End of the line," he barks.

"Please," Erin pouts.

"He's just doing his job," Kim says. He looks up, appreciating the recognition. "We'll go," but none of you make to move. His eyes rake over your bodies. Erin acts as if she's about to move, but then tilts her head slightly.

"Are you Rob? Because my friend, Cassidy, was here two or three nights ago and she said you had all the right moves," she says, dropping the name of her CI.

He laughs, "You lot know Cass? That girl is wild. You party like her?"

"Harder," you say with a cheeky smile. 

"And longer," Kim winks.

She and Erin giggle. You laugh a little late and very awkwardly. Rob moves finally granting entry. 

You all move to go in, but he stops you.

"Not you," He sneers.  Erin and Kim halt. "You two can go in. She has to wait." They scoff and protest, but he's unwilling. 

"Sorry no uglies." You feel your heart plummet; his words sting no matter how badly you wish they didn't. But even though you're hurt and angry, your face remains neutral. A group of smug girls on the other side of Rob snicker and point in your direction. Another wave of dejection hits you and you shove your emotions down again.

"Rob!" Erin scolds, but he shrugs, unabashed.

"It's fine," you force a smile, not wanting to  waste any more time. "Go and I'll meet you inside." Kim, you can tell, is conflicted. Erin isn't happy. You wink and before you're even walking away, Voight's in your ear, instructing the other two to continue on as planned and for you to wait in line with Jay. You can't help but roll your eyes. Of course you were going to go wait with your partner. There was nothing left for you to do but wait. This whole night was going down as one of your worst.

Jay is towards the back of the line with only a few people behind him so no one is bothered when you take a place by his side.

"Do you want my coat?" His offer is genuine, but you hardly notice.

"No, I'm not cold anymore." It's true. Your anger is enough to warm you. You huff involuntarily.  Jay notices how you don't look him in the eye.

He watches you carefully as to not earn your attention. Your jaw is set tight. Y/e/c eyes unblinking, fixated on up ahead. Your tongue presses to your cheek. Arms fold across your chest. Your order to join him has clearly irritated you.

Minutes pass by with the line never really moving. Jay notes how you look down at your dress. You ran a hand over it to unnecessarily smooth it out. You shift uncomfortably in your boots. Jay starts to think maybe there's more to your bad mood. It wasn't just Voight, but that asshole bouncer, too. Jay's jaw clenches tightly. He starts to put a hand on your shoulder when you both hear the order to move in.

"Chicago PD, you guys need to leave!"

"Get outta here." Together you and Jay clear all civilians before entering the club.

Erin's CI had given incredibly accurate intel. Plenty of arrests and drugs were seized. Lives were no doubt saved.

_

"Hey y/n, we're gonna go to Molly's for celebratory drinks," Kim's voice is extra soft, weary even, sensing your bad mood, but not knowing the best way to approach you. "You coming?"

"I already have plans," you lie with ease and a cheery smile a bit too big to be sincere. "Thanks though!" Kim looks like she wants to press on, but ultimately decides against it.

As she walks away, you sigh. If she and Erin hadn't teamed up with you, if you had attempted to get in the club alone, would the team still have made arrests and confiscated all the drugs? It was unlikely. Moving fast was key and you would have been forced to wait in that line. And while it had been Erin's CI providing some crucial facts, this had been your case. You couldn't even get into the club because you're not pretty. Hot tears prick your eyes. You hastily wipe them away.

Your club dress lays angrily thrown in your bag. Your boots too. Now sporting sweat pants and your PD tee, you remain on the bench, waiting for the laughs and voices of your colleagues to die down. You give extra time even, not wanting to catch any of them in the parking lot. But even when the silence settles in, you don't move. You're alone for five minutes when a voice comes from behind you, startling you.

"What are you doing?"

Your hand flies over your chest. "Jeez, Jay. I thought you left with everyone else." You let out a breath.

"Why aren't you at Molly's?"

"I told Kim. I have plans."

"I don't think you do." He crosses his arms over his chest as he comes to stand closer to you.

Annoyance sets in. You zip shut your go bag before standing up and slamming your locker door close. "Well I do, so if you'll excuse me…"

Jay doesn't budge. "No. Because you're lying and I want to know why."

"I don't appreciate being called a liar."

"I don't appreciate you taking me for an idiot. Your only plans must be a large pizza at home on your couch alone because you don't go out in sweats, except to the gym. And you never go there on Friday nights. So tell me. Why are you letting what some idiot said bother you?"

You're beyond stunned by just how well Jay knows you. It reminds you how much you love him, not only as your partner, or a friend, though you would never, ever,  confess it. Tonight being the perfect reminder, you're not enough. 

But his astute knowledge of you, has left you feeling vulnerable and angry. You need to get away. From him. From work. From your emotions.

"I'm not talking about this with you. Now move."

"No."

"Jay, I swear-"

"What are you going to do?" His frustration with you seems to grow with every second. Those normally light eyes of his are turning dark. His voice is slightly raised.

You've seen Jay mad before, but not with his anger directed at you. It only seems to fuel your temper.  "Why are you being such an ass about this?" You snap. 

"Why are you being so stupid about this?" He shouts.

Your eyes widen in disbelief. "Don't fucking yell at me and do not call me stupid."

"I'm thinking you might be if I'm right and you're all upset because some lowlife bouncer said-"

"Oh for fuck's sake! I'm upset because what he said is true. I'm not pretty. I look nothing like the other girls. It's not like I haven't noticed. This isn't about just one guy. It's about me. I never get hit on when I go out. I never had a lot of dates when I was younger. It's fine. There's so much more to life. It just stirred up some bad feelings. And this sounds silly to you, I'm sure, but there it is, Jay. Your partner isn't pretty. And it almost cost us the case! I almost cost us the case because I'm not pretty," your voice breaks at the end. Tears threaten to spill, But you stiffen your lip instead. You look Jay in the eyes.

He's shaking his head. "You're wrong. You're fucking beautiful, y/n."

You don't think you heard him correctly, "...What?"

"I," he pauses, nervously licking his lips before continuing, "You're my partner and I know it's inappropriate, but I just," he sighs, like he's losing an argument with himself, and then with one step towards you he closes the space between the two of you. His mouth is on yours, tongue begging for yours.

Once you have time to react and reciprocate, he gently pushes you into the lockers, deepening the kiss. His one hand rests on your hip. The other cups your chin, desperate to bring you impossibly closer. Your hands stay at your side, unable to process what is happening. The only thing you're able to do is kiss Jay back.

A moment passes before he pulls away. His kiss has left you breathless and feeling dazed. When you finally manage to look him in the eyes, you see his face is much more relaxed now.

His tone is gentler, too. "It's unfair how beautiful you are. Your face is so soft and lights up every time you smile. Your eyes twinkle after you've been laughing. And you're smart. You're good despite all the bad we see. And you're sexy, y/n. When I saw you dressed for the assignment tonight, I-," he doesn't finish the statement, rather a pink tinge spreads across his cheeks.

"But you never said anything. I didn't know…"

"Now you do. Maybe you'll see it for yourself now." Between his kiss and his words, you can hardly think. Jay takes your silence as an opportunity to apologize.  "I never meant to call you stupid, but I really didn't. It was implied that I thought you were being stupid, and though there's a difference, that wasn't cool either. I honestly couldn't understand you being hurt by someone's words, especially when they were so wrong. I had no idea you had no clue how pretty you truly are or that your feelings about this stem so far back. I didn't get it and I'm sorry y/n."

"It's fine, Jay. I don't exactly go around broadcasting my insecurities."

"I could've been more sensitive."

"Maybe. That kiss helped a bit," you quip, finally feeling more like yourself.

Jay's grin is almost smug. "Oh yeah? Well in that case, since I know you're not doing anything, how about we get a pizza, take it back to my place and then later I'll show you just how beautiful you are to me?"

Wordlessly, almost like you still can't believe what's happening, you nod. Jay takes your bag in one hand, and intertwines your fingers through his with the other. Hand in hand you leave the precinct.

[moreteethplease]

Devlog: The Museum of Found Things

> Play it here!

Your search for something you've lost leads you to a strange little museum. Stay a while and browse; who knows what you may find?

The Museum of Found Things is a short bitsy game where you explore a rather strange and unusual museum—a place where lost things just might go. It was made for the BITSY FEST jam.

Devlog under the cut.

Choosing A Concept

When I saw the theme of the game jam, "museum", my mind began spinning with ideas almost immediately.

My first idea was to make a game with the concept that everyone carries a museum inside of them, filled with their experiences and memories. If you're lucky, someone might let you visit their museum, and you have to take care of your own museum and curate it if you want to let people in. This was more in line with the stuff I tend to make: prose accompanied by visuals and a heavy-handed metaphor.

But my last few bitsy games have all been like this, and they've been fairly sad or serious, so I wanted to do something just a little different. I toyed with the idea of making the museum a very lighthearted, joke-filled experience. I considered forgoing the whole museum thing and making it more of a cabinet of curiosities linked to one strange and eccentric person. Ultimately, though, I felt that these were too similar to my previous games.

I was lying in bed on vacation with my partner when a song began to play in my head: "The Place Where Lost Things Go" from Mary Poppins Returns. I thought, what if it was a museum of lost things? I mulled it over, but I felt that this concept was somewhat overdone already, and I didn't want to just rip everything from a musical song.

I talked about this with my partner, and he said something about how if they're in a museum, they can't really be that lost anymore. This clicked everything into place for me. It would be a museum filled with things that are found, whether because they're always getting misplaced or because they've were lost long ago and finally rediscovered. And thus, The Museum of Found Things was born.

Making The Game: The Rooms

I made the game by first determining the rooms in the museum and what each one was meant to represent. I really can't help myself with metaphors, you see.

I decided that each museum room should look almost exactly the same except for its star display in the center of the room. This made it much faster to make each room, as I just needed to copy sprites and add dialog to them.

Most of the rooms are adequately explained via both text and subtext, but I wanted to highlight my favourite exhibit. In the fourth room, which is dedicated to things that are found renewed and reclaimed, is a glass display case featuring replicas of people's tattoos. This is meant to signify feeling like your body is yours again, and I tried to illustrate that clearly: one has a Medusa tattoo, one has a semicolon tattoo, and the final is one half of a pair of top surgery scars.

Outside of the museum, I added a small grave dedicated to a former partner who passed away. I thought it would be amusing to write the epitaph on the tombstone in the style of Lemony Snicket's Dismal Dedications. I think she'd find it funny.

Making The Game: Everything Else

Writing-wise, I tried to keep the tone light, even when heavier subjects were discussed. The heaviest and most serious exhibits I allowed to speak for themselves.

I always like using borksy hacks to do all sorts of fun stuff, and this time around, I used it to allow me to edit rooms from textboxes so the curator's sprite only becomes interactable after a player has examined everything in the room. I also used borksy to allow dialog choices. I remember the first time I used the dialog choice hack for my game Making Tea At The End Of The Universe. It wasn't too difficult, but it took a bit of trial and error. I'm so proud of the fact that this time I had no trouble with it at all!

I had trouble with the curator sprite. I wanted them to be memorable and strange without being too detailed and taking away from the relatively simple museum rooms. After a lot of unhappy reworking, I remembered I'd downloaded some 16x16 fantasy sprites by kcaze a while ago, and they're all free to use! I chose a djinn sprite and adapted it, adding animation as well so the curator appeared as lively as their personality.

Sadly, I couldn't find any music that I felt truly fit the vibe of the game better than silence did, so the game is silent for now. I doubt I'll change that, but hey, you never know.

Well, thank you for reading this! If you're interested in playing the game, check it out here!

[leffee]

picked out a few angsty ones. 1, 11, 12, 58. any ship that involves sunil :>>>

Any ship? Then I shall do Sunil x Sharukh, 1) to at least pretend I don't automatically default to Vinnil whenever possible 2) cause one of those numbers I already did with boys poly so that kinda excludes any sort of Sunil's ship with Vinnie, Russell, or both

1. Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?

I feel like this is more of a Sharukh thing, I'm serious. Cause when it comes to arguments let alone heated ones Sunil just ends up pissed and grumpy but Sharukh on the other hand is a bit more chill in general and about that, even if he is full of emotions at the moment. He's also secretely quite scared of losing Sunil, he never really had any genuinely close relationships so if they end up arguing he'd rather at least try to de-escalte it, even if at the end.

11. Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

Similarly like in the boys poly reply for this specific question Sunil does especially when he feels like he experiences negative emotions too often especially anxiety or sadness. However, he's not that good at it hiding them because well, he just has a tendency for feeling negative emotions and it's hard to hide them all the time. Can his bf still tell? At first he couldn't due to him not really having had any deep, personal connections he wasn't that good at guessing and understanding others' emotions. But after a while of being with Sunil he learnt and got better so because to the aforementioned reasons too yeah, a lot of the time he can tell.

The other way around Sharukh kindaaa does that. Cause on one hand he has always expressed emotions like annoyance or exasperation freely with no shame but on the other feelings like genuine sadness and expressing them is rather alien to him. Sunil can tell most of the time even if he's trying to hide feeling upset because in this case from outside Sharukh is just so stoic to something that would hurt anybody else. So perhaps it's not that Sunil sees it but he just knows because anyone would be upset at that. And also he has experience with people who try not to ackowledge their sadness *cough cough* Vinnie *cough cough*.

12. Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over?

Not really, they have their disagreements especially due to being used to completely opposite lifestyles but those aren't usually heated. If one such argument does happen though they usually just try to wait out the peak of emotions - especially on Sunil's side, so then they can talk calmly and find why exactly they got so angry in the first place. As you might have already guessed it's usually due to their general differences and/or insecurities - Sharukh's, Sunil's, or both of theirs.

58. Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

So this is probably obvious now that I anwered all the previous asks, but Sunil. If Sharukh holds a grudge it's usually not for long, but Sunil can keep his for quite a while. Yes, it's due to Sharukh's fear of losing someone who is finally close to him and seems to genuinely love him. Don't get me wrong, Sunil's scared of losing Sharukh too, I mean his boyfriend is a damned superstar loved by milions of people, in theory Sharukh could find a romantic partner pretty much immediately if he suddenly decided he didn't want Sunil anymore, but yeah, Sunil's more likely still.

As a bonus because I feel the need to justify me calling him Sharukh not Shahrukh like everyone else seems to. Actually I jump between the two based on many factors, but I always believed that Sharukh is the correct way because

that's the way his name is in credits. Do with that knowledge what you want, I'm just saying that this is why I write Sharukh not Shahrukh

[mobius-m-mobius]

I know I am wildly late to this observation, but I just rewatched Thor for the first time in a very long while, and. I'd genuinely forgotten that at the start Thor is headed down a path at least as dark as Loki's? I mean Loki is making very extremely bad choices, but Thor isn't exactly less horrifying with his whole jumping straight to the 'lets "break the spirit" of an entire realm by murdering as many of them as it takes' shtick. And it's just so clearly laid out that the divergent paths they are on by the end of the first film isn't illustrative of some inherent difference in their natures or predetermined by choices they'd made before the film started. The difference is that Thor gets the opportunity to love and be loved by people outside the skewed and insulated world he grew up in, to be loved without strings attached, and discovers that the friends he had all along loved him more unconditionally, aside from his power and conquests, than he'd realized. While Loki learns that their father attaches all sorts of strings to his love, and 'learns' (somewhat truthfully with regard to Odin I think, though not with Thor or Frigga), that the love he had from them was always conditional, mitigated, based on lies and offered to a version of himself that never existed.

And I just—my point isn't 'you can't blame him for his war crimes 'cause he was sad', just that. Man it really was about love from the very beginning!!!

(P.S. I sent you an inordinately long series of messages about s1 Loki a couple weeks back, and your response was delightful, and added excellent points—just wanted to say that you; that was lovely of you, and I really appreciate how kind you always are on this blog!!)

Hey there anon, lovely to hear from you again! Thank you so much for your own kind words and taking the time to send another message! Your previous ones were a wonderful read as is this and as far as I'm concerned there's no such thing as being late to anything that isn't already scheduled, especially regarding media or fandom when there's a chance to discover someone/something new around every corner 💖💖

(Case in point how unexpected getting this captivated by a Marvel series was for me, which I only bring up because, well... quick disclaimer, I have an understanding of everything that happened in phase 1 but haven't exactly seen any of the Thor movies or until a few weeks into the airing of Loki had any real exposure to anything Marvel/Loki related between the original Avengers movie and then, which ironically I love because the moment S1 kicks off Loki's journey is where my perspective starts as well!)

As Loki mentioned many times previously, Thor truly wasn't ready to rule back then (not that Loki was either, lol) and you're not only exactly right about them both going down dark paths but I see Thor's view as worse considering he grew up surrounded by a level of confidence in companionship Loki never knew. The attack on Jotunheim pretty much says it all when Thor didn't hesitate to use hurt pride as an excuse to kill as many Frost Giants as possible, then after getting an entire war kicked off all Thor's friends were actually angrier with Loki for letting news of their visit get back to Odin despite the fact that they would've all been killed otherwise 🙃

Odin not being the best father to either of them is an understatement but there are unspoken conditions to his interactions with and love for Loki specifically due to his birth that (by nature of what an imposing figure Odin is) would almost subliminally impact everyone within range so I can't even imagine growing up in the midst of that and having no idea of the real cause, though I don't doubt Frigga's love for him or that the Thor of now wants them to be equals. It really does all come back to love from beginning to end, and makes it all the more important that Loki finally found that love and acceptance beyond his wildest dreams in Mobius so here we are now just waiting for them to find their way back to each other :')

[go-go-devil]

Anastacia of Astora for the Character Ask, please.

Sure thing! I'm glad you've been asking me about her lately 🖤🔥

First impression: I can clearly remember walking past her cell without noticing her at first when I entered Firelink and almost immediately went down to New Londo, and then getting shocked when I came back up and saw her in that cell! Instantly I felt sad for her since she couldn't speak to me, and then it just so happened that my next conversation w/ the Crestfallen Warrior was about her and... yeah. It was a real downer T_T

Impression now: Even though we don't get much dialogue from her I still ended up loving her so much! I've come up with many speculations on her backstory and can't wait to get to them in my fanfic!

Favorite moment: The final conversation you have with her where she mentions having spoken to Frampt about you linking the fire. There's a LOT to unpack in that short exchange! Firstly we now know she's able to leave her cell on her own volition (but mostly chooses not to), next that she's making use of her legs and tongue that we restored to her, and most importantly that she's on Frampt's side. Unlike him though, who wants us to succeed Lord Gwyn for the sake of preventing change in the world, Anastacia believes that this is the only way for the Undead Curse to be lifted, and so that "[she] can die human." I like this moment because it shows how complex the choices of the two endings actually are, and that both have their own benefits and perils attached to them which will affect the lives (or afterlives in this case) of the people you've come to know here.

Idea for a story: I mean technically I'm already writing one, though Anastacia's character won't start getting more development until a few more chapters in. But outside of epic novel length fics about the game itself, I'm always down to reading a story of what her life in Astora was like and what "heresy" she committed to be punished with becoming a Firekeeper against her will.

Unpopular opinion: Not really sure what opinions on her are "popular" or "unpopular," but I guess mine is that I think we need to see more enthusiastic interaction with her by the fandom. I'm disappointed that the vast majority of fanfics or fanart I see of her only ever concerns her death at Lautrec's hands, and just the general attitude of her being more of an object which moves things forward in the plot as opposed to a thinking, feeling human being (so basically the fandom treating her as Lautrec does in-game). I mean if you're all so obsessed with writing dozens of fics about Ornstein or the Nameless King, characters who have ZERO development in-game, then I don't see why y'all are shirking any headcanons and even fun AU stuff for Anastacia...

Favorite relationship: Anastacia & The Chosen Undead. I'm also down for shipping her with the Chosen Undead, but only if they're a woman ;-)

Favorite headcanon: My personal one is that her "heresy" was merely that she was caught praying to Velka. Maybe she always worshiped her, or maybe it was out of desperation to see justice be delivered in a world so devoid of it, but I feel that's the reason why Velka left us a Black Eye Orb by her corpse after she's killed.

[deadlysoupy]

1, 14, 16, 21, and 39

aww thanksies for the ask!!! and giving me a chance to talk everyone's ear off lmao

What was your first fic and could you stand to reread it today?

so, interesting case. that really depends on the language we're meaning here, but i'll talk about both

the first PUBLISHED fic (as far as i remember i wrote a bunch of fics but never uploaded any) was actually a translation of an invader zim fic into my native language (from english). i will not read it. I REFUSE. not to mention the fact that i won't read other works in my native language because i know for a fact they were bad. they were published from 2018 to 2020, starting SIX YEARS AGO, and i'm proud to say that i've improved my writing in general

the first published fic in english, however, is a bit of a different story. i believe i wrote it in 2020, and it was for adventure time. but i very clearly remember writing it in school, during a cancelled class, over a racket in the background caused by my classmates. i was bored and decided "might as well practice english writing or something". i felt very giddy and happy about it, but i haven't read it in a while, and i archived it, so i wouldn't be able to find it now. i'd say it's pretty mid, but due to the memories, it gives me the fuzzies

14. What’s the biggest change in your taste between when you started in fandom and today?

hm. i guess this isn't about taste, but i find it very hard to read works that are very clearly written by someone who has literally Just started writing

i know it's very presumptuous and condescending of me, but as i age and read more, i realise i get very specific about the choice of words in a novel/fic, so when it's clearly written by an amateur, i get pissed. there's a line here, though, and i'll continue reading if it's not too bad, but when it gets to a certain point i drop the fic, and i'm very sad about it, it breaks my heart i gotta be honest

16. Have you ever stopped writing a fic/for a fandom because it wasn’t receiving enough attention?

oof yeah many such cases unfortunately..... my fic for tmnt is on the shelve for now simply because of this reason, even though it's only like three chapters long. it's honestly embarrassing how dependent i became on external validation, but that's a battle you can't win in a day. i'm trying though and someday i'll finish those projects that i can't finish now

21. If someone starts kudosing and commenting your fics in a spree and has a few works of their own, would you go look through theirs?

i don't think so, unless it's someone i know or someone who wants to become friends. i don't actively seek to find new authors if i'm not in the mood for it, and i'm not usually, so there's that i guess lmao. BUT i am very grateful to each and every person in my comments, in the kudos, in the bookmarks, for reading my work and engaging in any way with it <3

39. Do you consider yourself to have a readership?

hehe i do have at least one or two people who i know will read things i write for anything, but i don't think i have a readership outside of transformers. i already understand that i've solidified my reputation and people come for either bee or starbee fics, which is okay! i guess that's just how the internet works these days. i do get salty about the fics outside of tf not getting enough recognition (the tmnt case), but i've come to accept it and just write for myself no matter what. i'm lucky to have people who care about my writing in the first place!

[fukingyolo13]

Sink or Swim

This is my first fanfic and I thought this would be a fun one. (BTW Jesse is female in this so I will be using she/her pronouns)

Warning: Angst, fluff, and some inappropriate language

After defeating the wither storm, Jesse's gang finally got some down time and able to grieve. Jesse still felt guilty of Reuben's death, so she decided to go to the forest and pick flowers for a little tribute to him and Ellegaard.

While in the forest Jesse found a couple of poppies, and a dandelion which she was debating on wither or not to give to Lukas. She started to have a crush on the boy when her and Axel got back from Boom Town with Magnes. Saving from a creeper when we were walking to the base. He even rebuilt the entrance with Olivia.

While picking the last few poppies in the area it started to rain. Jesse thought it would be a good idea to get back home to build the tribute. When she got back Beacontown she noticed that Lukas and Aiden were talking and having drinks at this small bar. Jesse made a mental note to try and build up the courage later to talk to him and give him the flower.

Finishing up with the tribute, Jesse tried to encourage herself to go talk to Lukas. He was so nice and saved her a few times while in their adventure together so it could be very easy to talk to him. Peking outside it was still raining, but she did get a small glimpse of a blonde-haired boy, which made her grin. Slowly heading towards where she saw Lukas and Aiden in the bar, but she stopped when she heard what they were saying.

"Dude, don't get me wrong and all but you are really planning on stay with those losers after one adventure with them." Aiden seemed confused and upset by hearing from the tone of his voice, but he looked like he was about to burst out laughing instead. "Because you don't think their leader is strong enough physically and mentally?"

"Hey, I just want to keep them safe. I don't want them thinking their big shoots and getting hurt". He said almost like he was trying to explain himself. Which Jesse understood what he was saying, but it what was said next that made her heart sink. "I love her and all, but Jesse is too weak to be the New Order of the Stone's leader."

Right after those words left his mouth, he regrated it all. Seeing the sadness on her face felt like a punch in the gut to him. He didn't know how much she heard but he knew that she heard the last thing he said.

Jesse booked it out of there and ran as fast as she could. Hearing both Lukas and Aiden call for her, she didn't care, her pride and confidence was shattered when she saw the look of pity on Lukas's face when he saw her. She ran all the way into the treasure room and just cried.

The funny thing was that Petra finally even convinced her that Lukas should go on some adventures with them soon. Axel who didn't really like the guy when we just know him as one of the Ocelots. When they got to at least know each other more he actually started to find him enjoyable to be around. Olivia even liked how smart he was.

It was hard though because she never thought she was strong enough too. She hated herself for not being able to save Reuben and Ellegaard. It killed her when the people of the town started to call her a hero, but she just felt like a failure. It was already hard enough to put on a fake smile and say that she was fine, but it hurt even more that the person she had a crush on felt the same about her.

She sat in the treasure room silently crying when she started to hear yelling from the other side of the closed door.

"What the hell do you mean you're not going to let us in?" Not voice was odiously Lukas, but she couldn't tell who the other two were. Jesse stood up quickly started to look for a place to hide in case he does get in.

"Like I said blonde, I'm not letting you in because you made her cry. If you can't get that through your thick skull you might need to get that checked out." Ivor laughed at him like he had no brain cells. "And Petra are you really thinking that he has the right to see her after what he did?"

Ivor was protecting her was the only thing she was thinking about. WHY? It didn't make sense to Jesse that he would do this just for no reason. Maybe it was because he wanted her to trust him more, or for her to get him some powerful treasure after this. Just possibly he could just be doing this because they're friends, That's the one she is hoping for.

While sitting there hearing all their bickering Jesse just to go home and sleep. She got up and walked towards the door so tired from all the crying and opened it to see the three all have swords out almost about to fight. Jesse just didn't care anymore and walked past all of them to go outside. All three of them looked flabbergasted and ran after her.

"Hey, are you ok, we can all talk about what happen at the bar Lukas didn't mean a word that he said, right Lukas." Petra and Lukas got Infront of her before she could get outside.

"No Petra I'm not ok, but I rather drawn before talking about what happened at the bar. Any way he shouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it." Jesse said focusing her gaze outside.

"See I told you she wouldn't want to talk to him. So, stop trying to make them talk if she doesn't want to hear from him." Ivor said run down the stairs behind us. When he final got by Jesse's side he noticed how sad she really looked. "Hey, I don't think it would be a good idea to go in the rain today. How about you come with me and look at how amazing the library is?"

"I was hoping I would build a house finally, but I guess you're right." Jesse said already started going back up the stairs.

"Hey wait, you dropped this at the bar when you ran off." Lukas grabbed her hand and gave back the dandelion that she wanted to give to him. Looking at it now a couple of the petals were missing, and the steam was leaning to the side, it started to look frail which was what she felt.

"It was for you." Jesse whispered and placed gently back in his hand. She noticed that he still had that pity look on his face which made her so frustrated. She pulled her arm out of Lukas's grasp and followed Ivor.

Petra and Lukas didn't follow them up the stairs which made Jesse relief. She didn't want to talk to Lukas already, but hearing Petra defend him made her hate the situation even more.

Getting in a small corner of the library Jesse pulled out the book 'Habits of Endermen' by Soren. trying to imagine what it was like for Soren to write the book and what experiences he had to go through. Jesse missed Soren and reading his books made her remember the small moments she had with him.

"So, what happened at the bar?" Ivor asked curiously.

"He was being a jerk and talking about me to Aiden."

"Kid there has to be a reason what he said made you upset enough to hide in the treasure room of all places."

"Ok fine he said that I'm too weak to be the leader of the New Order of the Stone. That I wasn't physically and mentally strong enough for it." She shouted. After finally yelling out the feelings it still hurt, nothing changed. Out of nowhere she was embraced in a hug by Ivor.

"You are enough don't listen to stupid boys for their approval. You're stronger than them because you are the one that almost died so many times and still survived. You could have thrown your friends all away and just take all the glory and fame, but you were stronger and told the truth that the original Order of the Stone couldn't do."

She started to feel better about herself but still feel not enough for everyone around. She thought it might be better if they started some small talk about things that might make them both laugh.

"Ok if Petra is Gabrial, Olivia is Ellegaard, and Axel is Magnes does that make me you or Soren." Jesse giggled trying to lighten the mood.

"You are definitely Soren" he laughed. "You both worry a lot about people's opinions on things and especially about yourselves. You both need plans things ahead so everyone and thing is alright, but you both have a major fear of loss."

"Wait is that you saying that Lukas and you are similar?"

"I guess so, but don't you dare tell him I don't want him having a big ego."

Hearing knocking on the door they both adsum it was Lukas or Petra again.

"I should probably go get that, and thanks Ivor cheering me up." Jesse walks up towards the door dreading the conversation that she is going to have. When she opened it, she saw the back of Lukas. She never noticed until now how ripped and tattered Ocelot jacket is until then.

"You might want to get a new jacket soon; it looks like it's falling apart a little bit" Jesse informed. Lukas turned quick at her words she could tell that he was nervous as well now. She also noticed a burse that was forming on his cheek.

"I'm sorry in the bar I didn't mean you weren't strong I-"

"Then what did you mean by it because the way you were talking in there it made it seem that you knew what you were talking about." Jesse interrupted. She even started pouting trying to show how upset he really made her.

"I meant that I wanted to protect you and keep you safe because after the Wither Strom you were the leader and you almost died. Do you know how that would feel knowing that if I was there, I could have at least tried to save you?"

"Yes, Lukas I do know what it feels like because I lived through it." Jesse stormed off to the left trying to find a way to hide from Lukas without having to go back in the rain.

"I'm sorry Jesse I-"

"You know you say that a lot." She said in his face.

"I feel it a lot." When he said that it made her rethink this argument. She didn't want to hurt him she was just so annoyed that he felt like that was an okay way to describe her.

The two them just stood there staring back at each other. Jesse reached out for his hand and before she could grab it Lukas grabbed her face and kissed her.

[shrinkthisviolet]

Pick your ship :)

"things you said when you were drunk"

Some pre-canon (aka pre-relationship) Westallen! More on the angsty side for that reason

(Also…disclaimer, I still can’t write drunken stuttering, sorry 😅 that part is pretty rough, but I tried my best):

By the time Iris was old enough to legally drink, Barry had teased her about it for months already.

Silly of him, maybe, considering he didn't make a habit of drinking anyway, but...hey, she was his best friend. He reserved the right to tease her.

When Iris was finally old enough, she declared, "Now you can't bug me about this."

"Oh, don't worry." He laughed. "I'll find something else to bug you about."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was fond. "Of course you will."

"You say that like you're not the same way."

"Oh, of course I am. But it's only funny when I'm doing it to you."

"I resent that!" He protested, and she laughed.

The most beautiful sound in the world. He'd told her that once, back when they were just school friends, and she'd just laughed again, saying, "You're sweet, Barry Allen. I happen to think your smile is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

(She probably didn't mean it like that, he knew. Iris was braver than him by leagues, and she would've said something if she loved him like he loved her. It didn't matter. Being near her was enough.)

In any case, that led to this moment: sitting together at a bar, while Iris tried to scope out drinks. "Anything here that won't give me a major hangover tomorrow?"

"So responsible," he teased, laughing when she made a face at him. "You could always go for the Shirley Temple."

"Barry!" She threw a napkin at him, though her lips twitched with the effort to not smile. "Come on, seriously."

"Okay, okay. Let me see?" She slid the menu over to him, and he scanned it. "Mimosas typically aren't bad, people day-drink those. Piña colada...I think that's safe too."

"Ooh, I've always wanted to try one of those." Iris grinned. "And what are you getting?"

"Same as you." Barry smiled.

As the night went on, they both drank a little, then a little more, until they were just the wrong side of tipsy—or at least, Iris was. Barry had figured out his tolerance, so while Iris's words began to slur, his speech was mostly steady.

"Then I was saying—what?" Iris had a strange look on her face, almost wistful. "Iris, wh—?"

"Just your smile." Iris smiled, and even with her slightly dazed expression, the way her eyes had slightly glazed over, it was still the most beautiful thing Barry had ever seen. "Beaut'ful."

Barry blushed. "I...you've said that before."

"Have I?" She frowned, tilting her head. "Should say it more."

"Iris," he said softly, "you don't—"

"So pretty," she murmured, "d'you know that?"

Wh...? No. No, Barry, get ahold of yourself. She's drunk, she doesn't mean it.

He shook his head, laughing. "I think you've had a little too much to—"

"I mean it!" She grabbed his sleeve as he stood up, trying to stand with him...but stumbling as she did.

"Iris," he said gently as he caught her, "come on. Let's go home, okay?"

"Home," she murmured, wincing as she rested her head against his chest. "Yeah. 'm tired."

"Yeah, I bet. Come on." He helped her up, paid for their drinks, and led her outside. They'd taken a cab here, which was good, since Barry hated driving and Iris was in no state for that—so they took one back and slowly re-entered the house, Barry helping Iris up to her room.

Joe was working late, thankfully, so hopefully Iris could sleep off the worst of it and—

"Barry?" Barry looked back at Iris...and Iris looked at him like he was the most important person in the room. The world, even. "Love you."

His heart skipped a beat, then another, but he managed to tamp down his excitement. She doesn't mean it like that. "Love you too, Irey. You're my best friend."

(He was definitely imagining the way her shoulders slumped.)

"Get some rest, okay?" Barry smiled gently. "Wake me if you need anything."

"Okay." She smiled again—it's not a sad smile, she's just tired—and promptly turned over.

Barry, meanwhile, made his way outside and back to his room.

(The next day, Iris had seemingly forgotten all about it.

Barry could do nothing but smile and curse his own foolish hope.)

prompt list!