#like i thought *i* got mad st this game. well

[yatgb]

Reminder to every splatoon player that no matter your skill level at least you arent putz12. take pride in that

[maple-the-awesome]

Twilight's Calling ||

Pairing: Twilight x GN! Reader

Words: 2,544

Requested by anonymous: Heeey. First of I love your writing style! It’s just amazing! Cause twilight is my fav. could you maybe write something like xreader with him, for example they’re in a battle or smth? Only if it’s okay ofc! Thanks a lot and have a good day and week! best wishes :) Twilight may or may not be my favorite Link, too (TP was the first game I finished, so I'm a little bias, okay?). I've had this draft lying around unfinished for awhile, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to finish it. Here you go, hun 💜

Zelda Masterlist 🤎Fandom Masterlist

It's getting pretty late. 'Late' as in the sun has long set and the last time you saw any of the boys was about an hour ago when Time finally managed to herd the remaining stragglers out of the room, although he was being a bit hypocritical seeing as he still lingered in the doorway for a good minute himself afterwards (not that you dared comment on it).

Since their heavy footsteps had faded into silence - and aside from the innkeeper sometimes shuffling down the hall or a sudden 'pop' of the bedside candle - you've been left entirely alone with your thoughts as they dance on the very edge of sleep, but you refuse to lose balance. It's your shift. You promised to be a good lookout and it took a lot of convincing to even get the position, so you can't disappoint no matter how heavy the weight upon your eyelids or heart is.

You've always been well aware of the risks that would come with this mission and from traveling alongside nine heroes of legend; troublesome young men and boys who can definitely handle themselves in battle, however none immune to making possible mistakes. You expected one to occur at some point, yet never wanted the aftermath to be anything too serious.

Wild getting a decent scar on his forehead was a scare when it initially happened, but he was back on his feet within the hour - less than that actually, because if you remember correctly, his quick recovery had been controversial and resulted in quite a bit of bickering. The bottom line is that Wild bounced back with little to no trouble thanks in part to his thick skull. This is different. Twilight has yet to follow his protege's example and it's been hours.

You must admit you underestimated the situation at first due to a lack of context. It's not to say you didn't care about Wolfie when he got struck, however there's a notable difference between a wild 'pet' that occasionally trails your group and the very man you've grown to secretly admire over the months you've spent traveling together. If you had known then that they are one of the same, you would've likely shared a similar level of panic as the Champion, but instead you were left in the dark until Four finally explained Twilight's secret to you.

Even at that moment, although more worried, you figured everything would be okay. Wolfie or Twilight, a fairy should be able to do the trick to heal the worst of injuries, so one can imagine your heartbreak once learning that, for some odd reason, the state of his wounds haven't changed even under a fairy's sacred touch. That's when you truly became fearful, but you refused to show it outwardly - no more than whatever made itself present on your face, anyway.

Making a fuss won't aid Twilight's condition nor will it calm the concerns of your friends, so instead you had mostly stayed out of the way until Time announced everyone should get some rest. At that point, you made your presence known, quick to shoot your hand into the air while volunteering to take the first shift for watching over Twilight. Champion was the only one to fight you for it and honestly, you still aren't certain how you won the argument, but here you are, sitting quietly at Twilight's bedside while trying desperately to keep yourself from descending into madness as you fret over his well-being.

He's doing somewhat better after Hyrule's magic managed to stop most of the bleeding, however his wound remains deep without any further healing progress and his skin is drained into a pale, sickly color clear even through the dim glow of candle light. He looks like shit and you'd guess he feels like it, too, seeing as his face curls into a pained expression every now and again, a whispered groan leaving him whenever he slightly shifts his body (not that he moves that much).

It's gotten a bit chilly tonight, however all blankets in the room have been laid over him and you refuse to swoop as low as to steal comfort from a dying man, so you simply keep huddled to yourself, half praying the next shift will come sooner and half praying it won't because a stubbornness inside you is somehow convinced that the simple act of you being here will keep himsafe from death's hands.

You don't pay much attention to the quiet groan that comes from the bed, having already bitterly accepted that there's nothing that can ease whatever pain haunts Twilight during his nightmares, although you do lift your head when a hand shakes its way into view, barely able to carry itself to the edge of the covers where it collapses with a broken echo from its owner, "W...What time is it?"

You almost cry simply by the sight of Twilight's dull eyes staring up at you, half-lidded and only appearing bright if compared to the dark bags hiding underneath them, but you manage to hold back the tears for the sake of not scaring him.

"I-I'm not sure. After sunset," You answer slowly as to prevent any wobbling to your voice.

"And the others? Is every - everyone else okay?" Hylia, he sounds awful, his once handsome, accent-laced voice butchered by a hollow croak.

"Yeah...Yeah, we're all okay - and don't worry about the shadow. Wild managed to take it down - thanks to you tiring it out, I'd say. You sure gave that thing a run for its money there," You attempt to joke lamely. Although your laugh doesn't carry much life to it, Twilight's expression does soften a tad after the sound.

"...Good..." Is all he says before closing his eyes with a sigh through his nose. Meanwhile you fidget nervously, debating with yourself on whether you should let the conversation die off so that he can continue getting rest or keep him talking while he's able to. You sure do love hearing his voice, after all, no matter how broken it may be; it reminds you that someone as great as him is actually real and, after recent events, still alive.

In the midst of your depressed thoughts, you notice Twilight reach his hand out towards you again - or at least it looks like he's trying to. Really, he only has the strength to lift it palm-up slightly off the covers, yet you understand this movement's wordless request. Ever so gently, as if he's made of glass, you take his hand and sandwich it between both of yours. He's a bit too cold for your liking, a sharp contrast to his normally warm touch, not that you draw attention to that worrying detail.

"...Is there anything I can get you?"

He tries to shake his head, but loses will halfway through the action and instead chooses to simply let his head lull to the side towards you. From there he stares for a bit longer than he means to, his dazed brain struggling to process his thoughts at its usual speed.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Someone has to keep an eye on you," You allow a small smile, slowly reaching forward to help move his bangs away from his face, "We're all taking shifts throughout the night. I was just lucky enough to get the first."

Twilight hums, closing his eyes for a brief second when your fingers brush his forehead, "How'd you manage that?"

"Barely. For a second there, I thought I was gonna have to duel the Champion for it - had my hand on my sword and everything before he finally caved," Twilight makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh which makes your smile more genuine even if he does flinch in pain immediately afterwards, "The real question is how I won against Time...Actually, I wouldn't be that surprised if he's secretly standing outside the door as we speak."

A creak of old floorboards in the hallway makes your eyes dart to the door, almost expecting the man in question to walk in and call you out for your jokes, yet you calm that doesn't happen. Twilight brings your attention back to him by moving his thumb against your hand, "Don't tell 'em, but I'm glad it's you here. I like having ya' here with me..."

You press your lips, hoping it'll help you ignore the heat against your cheeks. That must be the first time Twilight has ever openly said he 'likes' anything related to you; you're certain you'd remember any other instances of such a milestone. It might not be the exact sentence you'd want him to use the word in, but it's a step in the right direction, so you'll take it.

"I like having you here with me, too, Twi...which is why I've officially decided that I'm too selfish to let you die on any of us. I don't care if I have to fist-fight Hylia for it; I'm not letting you get out of this journey so easily."

"That right?"

"I swear it on my life."

He chuckles weakly, although the sound is taken over by a fit of coughing. Promptly you pour a small glass of water using the pitcher kept on the bedside table before gently helping him sit up to take a careful sip.

It's insane for you to think that only a few weeks ago, you had been secretly watching him move hay bales at Time's place effortlessly. Now he lies here in bed struggling to hold a conversation, his muscles shaking horribly by the simply action of prompting himself up even slightly. Seeing him like this makes you feel awful, but you also consider yourself blessed to be the one taking care of him during a low point like this, ensuring that he's properly cared for and tended to almost like a spouse would.

"Seems like I'm starting to lose you, farm boy. You should relax and get some more sleep," He makes a face and seems prepared to argue, however he must not have been able to think of anything convincing to say - that or the aching in his bones has become too hard to ignore. Either way, instead of saying a word, Twilight nods droopily before inching his way back down against his soft pillow while you fix the blankets over him again.

"Look on the bright side: make it through this and you'll probably get special treatment from here on out. Get your bags carried for you, have whatever meals you're craving be made each night...If you hobble around a little I'm sure you could even get Time to fuss over you -"

" - And what about you?" Twilight quizzes and you can't tell if he's being serious or just teasing. It feels like the latter, yet the way he watches you while awaiting your reply makes you feel another way; soft and warm, but a tad anxious at the same time, "What can I get from you?"

You pretend to think, although in truth, you already know there wouldn't be any limitations for what you're willing to give. If he asked for the world right now, you'd figure out some way to gift wrap it for him...but that's too embarrassing to admit aloud, "...Depends on what you're thinking and if you can swing it the right way."

He hums, once again staring at you just long enough to make that anxious feeling really prominent. Is there something on your face that no one told you about earlier? Is he judging your messy hairdo that you had no time to fix since the battle? Did you sound too flirtatious in your answer? Maybe his injury has given him the ability to read minds, so now he knows just how desperate you are to earn his affections!

"...If I asked you to stay with me, would you?" Twilight whispers so quietly that you barely hear, yet you do. 

"I, uh...Time will be here in an hour or so for his shift, but I won't go anywhere until then, okay?" Not even your poor excuse at smiling can save your stumbled words, yet you pray he doesn't look beyond either. He's loopy from such a stressful day, so it makes sense that he's have trouble properly wording questions. It also makes sense for him to be scared to be left alone - anyone would be in such a state. He doesn't have to worry, though; between you and the boys, someone will always be by his side throughout the night. You'd expect that knowledge to be a relief for him, however Twilight only frowns and looks away with a surprisingly depressed look in his eyes. 

Fiddling nervously with your hands upon your lap, you ask carefully, "...Unless you're wanting me to watch over your for the whole night? In that case, I wouldn't mind staying if it would make you feel better. I'm sure the others would be fine with it if they could just check in here and there."

Twilight presses his lips, refusing to look directly at you. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that based on his continued reaction, you're still somehow missing the point of his question, yet no matter how much you rack your brain, you can't think of what else he would've possibly meant.

You were tempted to ask for more clarity, but Twilight speaks before you can, "...I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

He nods bashfully which melts your heart in a way you're sure would be shamefully clear if he were only looking in your direction.

"...Well, since you took one for the team -" Scooting your chair closer to the bed allows you to cross your arms over the mattress and rest your head on top of them. Desperately you try to ignore your nerves and the cute way Twilight curiously looks over at you, "- I'll stay for the night if you promise me one thing."

"Hmm?"

"Stay with me, too? Without you, I might just loose my mind. Don't tell anyone else, but you don't drive me nearly as insane as some of the other boys do," not in the same way at least.

The corner of Twilight's lips turn upwards, his hand taking it's time to move over yours. The second it makes contact, you take the chance to hold onto it, "...Sounds like a deal..."

You match his smile easily, "Get some sleep, Twi. I'll be right here when you wake up, so just focus on getting better for me, alright?"

He hums one last time, drifting off to sleep as commanded where he seems to be far more peaceful than earlier. As promised, you remain by his side until morning, eventually falling victim to quick naps yourself only disrupted whenever someone else sneaks into the room to see how things are going. You're certain you'll be tired tomorrow with an aching back after spending an entire night hunched over, but that's a small price to pay for someone like Twilight. It'll all be worth it to see him recover, granting you even more time to spend by his side through thick and thin.

[hangmanssunnies]

Green, Green, Green

Summary: You haven't had a very good Saint Patrick's Day. Somehow your neighbor Jake "Hangman" Seresin makes it all better, and also so much worse.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 2k

AO3 link

Warnings: Pining, Unrequited crush, Saint Patrick's Day, Neighbors, Smoke Alarms. Please let me know if I missed any.

Author's note: Thank you so much if you take the time to read my work. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

Sometimes in life, you just have to accept maybe you're never going to be happy. Today was one of those days that vividly reminded you of that fact. It felt like everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. Not only was it one of those days, but it was Saint Patrick's Day to top it all off. By the time you got home, the few small decorations in your condo felt mocking, and throwing them away hadn't helped to improve your mood. 

After holding it in all day, you finally sat on the couch, ready to let the emotions of the day wash over you. Only a few minutes later, you heard it. A basketball game, the sound blasting right through the wall so loud it was unignorable. You are well aware that you and your neighbor shared this wall in your duplex, but typically it was a sound range deemed acceptable for a sharded wall. Something you could live with and had accepted. 

Today though, this was louder than ever, and hearing a loud March Madness basketball game on St. Patrick's Day was the last possible thing you could handle. You take a few minutes trying to compose yourself, instead though, you felt anger spark in you so bright it was unignorable. Then before you know it, you were out your door and knocking strongly.

It took a few minutes before the door opened, and you had forgotten just how hot your neighbor was. Jake Seresin was tall and broad, and you had never seen him supporting anything besides a classic clean cut look. He didn't look that different than normal, but he certainly looked more casual than you were custom to. Typically you didn't interact with him much; you actually avoided him because he was one of those people that were overwhelming. He always supported wide smiles and flirty remarks exuding a sure confidence. And today, the way his green teeshirt and soft hair that clearly hadn't been touched with gel as it dried, looking picturesque and happy like he had the perfect Saint Paddy's Day, you hated him a little bit. 

"Oh hey, clover," Jake says, his lips quirking up in a fond smile. 

"Clover? Come on, Jake. No, I'm your neighbor, the one from next door." 

"Yeah, I know who you are," Jake says, rolling his eyes. Then he lifts a hand and brushes it over his cheekbone, matter-a-factly adding, "You have a piece of four leaf clover glitter right here. It's cute though, a very festive clover." 

You copy his motion brushing your cheek, trying to find the glitter piece, not sure where it could have come from. When you glance back at Jake, he is shaking his head, motioning to the other cheek. You felt a flash of embarrassment burn in your chest, quickly brushing your other cheek as well. Jake shook his head in response again. Then he reaches up, giving you time to move away if you choose to; however, you are frozen in place. His knuckles settle against your skin while his thumb presses gently near the corner of your left eye. The moment is quick, hardly more than a second or two. However, it feels like an eternity to you. 

Gaining your bearings, Jake is already leaning back against the side of his door. His arms crossing over his chest, making his biceps bulge. Your eyes snap back to his green ones, and you refocus on why you were here. 

"Thank you. Sorry to bother you, but can you please turn down your TV? It's blasting." Internally you try not to curse over how the niceties you didn't really feel inside spill from your mouth, cushioning your words. 

"Sure thing. Sorry about that. You know you could have just texted me," Jake says, quirking an eyebrow with a shrug. He said the words so casually, like it would be obvious you have his number. He said it as if everyone in the world just gets their phone, and it automatically has Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin's phone number added to the contacts app. 

"Just turn it down, please," you sigh. 

"I will. Again, I'm sorry about that. Do you have some big St. Patrick's Day plans I was interrupting?"

"No, I just wanted to go to bed." 

"Oh no, did your work hours change?" He asks. 

"Same as they've been. I'm just tired, you know?"

"Yeah, I totally understand that, Clover."

"No, Jake. Clover is not the cute sweet name that you think it is."

"I think it is, actually, Clover," he tells you with a wide grin. 

"Well, have a good night," you say, taking a small step backward, trying to end the conversation. 

"If you decide you're not tired, please feel free to come over later. Some people are going to come over for dinner, and we were going to watch the games. I'm sorry about that. I didn't think it would be a bother on a holiday Friday. I'll pivot us out to the bar after dinner, though. Just text me if it gets too loud. It takes me almost twenty eight minutes exactly to get everyone into the taxi for the bar."  

"Have you been timing yourself?" You ask jokingly. 

"Yeah, of course. There have been several trials and drills, all meticulously timed from when the taxi is ordered, which is a contributing factor. I shaved off six whole minutes when I figured out the proper order to hang people's coats in the closet. It was a real game changer." Jake answers you very seriously, which makes you laugh a little at him. It's much too close to a giggle for your liking, though. 

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm going to bed. You don't have to change your plans, though. I'll just go to my room and wear some headphones."

"It's an open invite," he reminds you. 

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you," You answer, taking another step back and raising your hand in a wave goodbye. As you do, a smoke alarm starts going off behind Jake. His eyes widen, and his smile drops. Spinning on his heel, Jake rushes back into his house, leaving his door wide open. 

Concerned, you nervously follow inside after him. Noticing the shoe racks and small mud areas, you quickly toe out of your shoes, rushing in to help him. Jake's condo is an odd mirror of your own. Set up in nearly the same design but not wholly in the ways you were expecting. His kitchen is placed on the far side of the condo while yours joined the living room a bit more open. 

Loud cursing leads you to him, and instinctually you open windows, trying to clear out the smoke. Jake is beating a newspaper toward the smoke alarm trying to clear out the smoke and get the device to stop its piercing shrill.  

"What's on fire?" You ask, looking around the kitchen. 

"The cabbage. I put it out in the sink." In the sink, you see the charred charcoal in a pan that remains of the leaves. Seeing a magazine, you stand near the window waving it, trying to bring new air into the space. 

"What are you making?"

"It's Saint Patrick's Day. I'm, of course, making corned beef and cabbage."

"I see… is this your first time making it?" You are shocked that Jake looks almost sheepish. His shoulders hunching lightly with a slight grimace. 

"It is, but I thoroughly read the directions. However, got cocky and thought I could try and roast the cabbage instead. I made that choice freestyle, though– no recipe. I just didn't want soggy cabbage that falls apart." 

"Ahh well, if you want it crunchier, you just wilt it for a few minutes before eating. Also, you should really throw a lid on your corn beef and add more broth, or Guinness beer, or whatever you're using. It's going to dry out otherwise." 

"Woah, are you secretly a chef?" He asks you curiously. The smoke mostly cleared out. Now you drift back to the kitchen trying to gauge what else he might be a little off on. 

"Sorry for the unsolicited advice. But I've definitely cooked a few corned beefs in my life." 

"I appreciate it. Personally, as great of an independent study I am, having a teacher really makes a world of difference." 

"I'm sure you say that to all the girls," you tease.

"I don't," he answers thoughtfully, leaving the smoke alarm that had finally quieted. "Do you think I should, though? Would asking someone how to cook something be a pick up line?" 

"I couldn't tell you. Let's focus on your dinner and make sure you have some edible dinner for your friends when they get here." 

"Yes, Ma'am," Jake says, opening a drawer. You watch as he pulls out a notepad made of grid paper and a green pen that he clicks three times before leaving it poised on the page. 

Offering advice quickly starts to become supervising Jake as he remedies the dish. Constantly stopping to take down notes whenever you happen to say something that he thinks is helpful. You aren't entirely sure how it happens, but you go from explaining why it's important to check the potatoes since they were added so late in his cooking process to talking about movies and books you two have read and enjoyed lately. Then starting to spiral even further into a story about the first time Jake saw Tristan & Isolde. 

"Honestly, Clover, you are a lifesaver and my hero. I gotta pay you back for this." Jake eventually says after checking his apple watch and muttering the time to himself. 

"No payment needed. I was just doing the neighborly thing. If you ever need a cup of sugar, don't hesitate to let me know," you laugh, trying to redirect his gratitude away, so it wasn't shining on you so directly.   

"No really, it would have been embarrassing to offer people inedible dinner. Actually, you should come over tonight free drinks, food, and I have this friend I would love to introduce you to. Y'all are going to get on like a grease fire, I'm sure of it."

You feel suddenly hollow at Jake's words, a startling reminder of reality. Jake really was like the sun catching things in his gravity and constantly pulling, shifting, and bending reality and time. 

"Maybe some other time, Jake." You answer as sweet and levelly as you can. "I really gotta go, but y'all have fun tonight."

"Okay, next time then," he says with his eyes slightly narrowed but otherwise leaving it. He walks with you back through his house, waiting as you put your shoes back on. 

"Thank you for taking off your shoes. I would have hated to mop again today. Thank you for helping me, not just with the dinner but the smoke too. That was super kind of you." 

"No problem. Now, don't lift that lid until people show up and are ready to eat." 

"I won't. I took good notes on the directions, I promise." He answers you, holding open the door for you. 

"I know. Have a good night Jake." You say, passing through the door and heading back to your own house. 

"Happy St. Paddy's Day!" He calls after you.

You just throw a hand up in acknowledgment and close your door. When you make it back to your living room, you can no longer hear Jake's TV. You do follow through with your plans, boarding yourself up in your room with headphones on, trying to forget the day and your blossoming attraction to your neighbor. Later that night, when you find yourself having to check the mail, you are startled to find a glass Tupperware on your front porch with leftovers all bundled together in a beeswax cloth. 

On top was a small note card with a detailed four leaf clover drawn on it. On the back side, in a flowing cursive, Jake had written: Thank you, Clover. The short note followed by his name. Running your fingers over the drawing, you feel the little crush you had become a CRUSH. Developing a real, tangible attachment to an unattainable uninterested man feels like the cherry on top of your bad day. It's also, unfortunately, a problem you don't think sleep and a weekend off work will fix. Yes, you're without a doubt doomed to not be happy, and Jake is the worst reminder of it yet. 

[drysaladandketchup]

5 mattdrai for the writing meme please

I wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to handle this prompt, but I hope it's still to your liking, anon :)

5. things you didn’t say at all

"Hey."

Matthew really isn't in the mood for this right now. He was having a good time being back home in St. Louis for his first All-Stars, talking to some of the best players in the league, watching the skills competition, going out with the guys, and now the game is in a couple hours--

"Tkachuk."

Yeah, no, he's real. That's Draisaitl yelling at him. Well, he isn't yelling, but since he apparently is so hard pressed to even be around Matthew, it'll probably escalate to that soon.

I'd probably get off the ice.

Even if it was a joke--and maybe Matthew is willing to entertain the idea that it had been, coming from mister 'taken out of context'--it makes sharing the locker room awkward.

The thing is, he kind of likes Draisaitl. Admires his game, anyways, even if he is playing for fucking Edmonton. If Matthew had actually been drafted by the Oilers back then, like he thought, they probably could have been friends.

If he's being honest with himself, he kind of likes Draisaitl beyond hockey, too. Because he'd watched Leon's interviews, checked out his Instagram a little--he was curious, sue him--and because McDavid talks a lot when they're training at Gary's. Also, come on, Matthew's not blind. He hates the concept of him in Edmonton, but it's not fair to say Matthew genuinely hates the guy.

Right now though, this may be the first time he's heard Draisaitl ever actually say his name, and he wishes it was anyone else.

"Hey. Hang on." Draisaitl is in front of him now, stony and unreadable, and only then does Matthew realise like a fool that he has actually stopped. They're face-to-face, alone in one of the maintenance halls, the hustle and bustle of the arena a distant hum.

Matthew stares at him, not unkindly, because his mom taught him some damn manners, but not openly friendly, either. Not until he can get a gauge on what Draisaitl wants. Leon. It's Leon. That feels like the only thing Matthew really knows about the guy, sometimes.

"Did you want something?" Matthews asks coolly, leaning against the bricks with his hands shoved deep in the pocket of his sweater.

Leon glances down the hall, up to the buzzing florescent lights, running fingers through his hair. It's hard not to follow his tongue when it pokes out to wet his lips. Damn it, he has no business looking this good.

"I wanted to talk to you," he finally says, and even after all this time Matthew is still caught off guard by how soft he sounds.

"Talk to me?" Matthew narrows his eyes. "I didn't think you'd even want to be seen with me."

Which is a shame, because they'd look pretty damn good together. In his opinion, anyways.

Leon doesn't take the bait. "I saw that interview you did."

"Buddy, you're going to have to be more specific. I've done a few lately. It's the All-Stars."

"Before the break. I don't remember with who. NBC, I think? They asked you about me. What I said."

He doesn't need to elaborate. Matthew raises a brow, scratches the sudden itch at his neck. The air in the hallway is stuffy and warm.

"What about it? I said you were a great player."

"After that, though."

Leon doesn't need to elaborate on that, either. The intensity of his stare does the job well enough.

What did Matthew say again? I probably can't answer that or he'll get mad at me.

Yeah, because the only thing running through his head when he heard what Leon said was, Well damn that sucks because I wanted to find out if he fucks better than he fights. He remembers biting his lip because his brain unhelpfully supplied him with some tempting ideas that were not exactly family friendly. He's twenty-two, he's got hormones, what's he going to do?

But he was pretty sure declaring he wants to fuck a rival player wasn't going to win him any favours with anyone, let alone Leon. And maybe that comment irked him a little in the moment, but no one's opinion matters to Matthew more than his own. Accidentally outing himself during an interview was not high on his list of career moves, so he'd played it safe, locked it all down, and assumed that'd be the end of it.

"I didn't say anything," Matthew says.

This feels strange. Leon doesn't look pissed, he looks curious. Piqued, like he's waiting to hear something specific.

"I know."

"So what's your problem?"

"What were you going to say?"

Matthew cocks his head. "What, you thought I was going to burst into tears because the German Gretzky doesn't like me?"

Except he knows Leon's not an asshole. Not all the time, anyways. Not off the ice. Which makes it fucking hard to just blow him off.

"You were all over us that game," Leon says. "Kass was pissed. You're a fucking pest, what the hell did you expect me to say?"

"Is this you trying to apologise? Because if it is, you're doing a hell of a job."

"You never hold back on anything."

"Why the hell does it matter?" Christ, it's like Leon is trying to pick a fight.

"You looked like you had something to say." There's a hint of suspicion--of implication--in Leon's voice that makes Matthew tense.

"You think I'm an asshole, so I don't know why you care."

Maybe this is a prank. Maybe he figured it all out and he's waiting for Matthew to break down and declare, I think I could fall in love with you if you let me.

Leon shuts his eyes briefly, shoulders rising and falling as he takes one long, deep breath through his nose.

"I didn't mean it how it sounded."

"Yeah, I heard." Matthew's stomach rolls in ways it shouldn't. "I don't know what other context you want me to take it in, though. It's not even a big deal, anyways. I mean, yeah, it kind of sucks finding out a guy you like thinks you're a piece of shit, but it's whatever, right?"

"I didn't call you--I don't think you're--"

Groaning, Leon thumps his head against the wall and drags a hand down his face. He takes a minute to compose himself, staring up at the ceiling, then down between his feet, face screwed up in thought. Finally, he looks back to Matthew.

"You like me, eh?"

It's been a long weekend; Matthew's too tired to backpedal and try to make up some excuse. Part of him just wants to drop it out in the open and be done with it. Just come out and say, Yeah, the 'I want to take you home' kind of like. The 'I want you to make me scream' kind of like.

Just to see what Leon would do. At the very least, he probably wouldn't punch Matthew. He's not a glove-dropper, after all, and he's not so scary without a stick in his hand.

He tries to imagine Leon's wide eyed, slack-jawed expression. Maybe the little 'Oh' that would slip through his lips. Because yeah, 'Oh' would be about right. It would be the most embarrassing conversation of Matthew's life; more embarrassing than when he came out to his family and Brady asked him to rank his favourite players by 'fuckability'.

"It doesn't matter." Matthew shakes his head, clears his throat, looking anywhere but at Leon. "Look, man, let's just go back to beating each other up on the ice and pretend this never happened, okay?"

"No, hey, don't"--Leon grabs Matthew's arm as he pushes off the wall, fully ready to disappear and never talk about this again--"It does matter. Tell me."

Matthew would rather go dunk his head under the sink and rub the embarrassing flush from his cheeks. He's hot all over, from the beating in his chest to the blood in his veins. Where Leon's touching tingles with an intimacy they've never had. It may be the first time they've touched without the aggression of a game to justify it.

And damn, Leon's looking at him like he can read Matthew's mind, or trying to get Matthew to read a little of his own. It's all heat and intensity and a look that says, I don't think you hate me, and I don't want you to think I hate you.

"What do you want from me?" Matthew says. "Why's this so important to you?"

It's possible he imagines the way Leon's eyes flit down and back. They're pressed almost right against each other now. That must be why Matthew's overheating, struggling to catch a full breath.

"i just want to know..." Leon swallows the rest of his words as he takes half a step closer; a little too close to be innocent. That brick wall of a chest is pressed up against Matthew's arm, nearly crowding him against the wall.

"Know what?" Matthew barely gets the words out.

It's scary to wonder. Ideas are forming in his head--excited, hopeful ones. Matthew won't pretend he's never wondered about Leon; what he could do with him. To him. How his mouth tastes, how his hands feel, what it'd be like having him over and under and around and inside.

And Leon is looking at Matthew like he genuinely cares how he feels. Like maybe, just maybe, he's thinking, too. Wanting.

Wouldn't that just be the biggest fucking drama of Matthew's life?

There's still too much they're not saying.

Neither of them gets the chance.

Something clatters down the hall, followed by the echo of voices.

Leon lets go abruptly, hand dropping to his side. "Shit, sorry. I should, um... Never mind. Just... forget it."

He spins and walks away, just like that, shoulders hunched and hands shoved in his pockets. For a guy who never backs down from a challenge, it looks a little too much like running away.

But it's not like Matthew can call him a coward when he can't even get his own voice to work. Breathless, he slumps against the wall and tries to piece together what just happened, how they managed to say everything and nothing. It feels like he's been through a tornado.

Fuck, he can't deal with whatever this is right now. He cannot be thinking with his dick come game time, let alone worry about whatever the hell his heart is doing.

He stands alone in the hall for a good five minutes, waiting for his nerves to settle, until he finally has the courage to head back, falling into the bustle of players and staff and media.

He avoids Leon in the locker room as best he can. On the ice, too. They don't talk and they keep enough bodies between them on the bench.

Once this is over, they can crack open that can of worms again, figure out what's going on. But there's more important things right now.

They play the All-Star game like they're bitter rivals.

Matthew feeds him a slick pass that turns into a goal.

He skates off without a celly, and Leon gives him a "fuck you" with a smirk and a tongue between his teeth.

But it's fun. Really fun. And despite it all, they're both smiling at the end. Leon's smiling at him.

And Matthew wants to believe that means something.

[hey-its-danny]

Alright you finished Azran Legacy? Okay. Answer this question: what are our thoughts on Emmy Altava?

alright listen and listen close. she had a fantastically strong introduction in spectre’s call, i LOVED her in the movie, he was serviceable in miracle mask (though i blame that completely on the narrative not compensating for her so she got sidelined) and also she was so cute in the door to st mystere and monte dor content. i actually have a google doc describing my deeply intricate reading of her character, and i hold her dear to my heart.

sadly, her treatment in azran legacy was the narrative equivalent of a pile of dookie ass farts, and i’m so sorry for her.

1. her playful banter with luke was almost completely missing despite it being the highlight of her dynamics in the previous two games. and like, as far as dynamics, there was so much potential for her relationship with sycamore!!! god they wouldve fucked it up crazy style!!! they even implied it, but refused to back up the notion with meaningful interactions between the two. even after the end game reveals. its almost like the game wasnt paced to compensate for that, crazy.

2. her character was stunted until the last cutscenes of azran legacy (like the rest of the cast, though it was obviously most egregious for her, hershel and sycamore). for my thoughts on that, i’d need a whole post, but i do just wanna say luke was great in the final moments of the game up until the final cutscenes. even with emmy, who like. i could feel the desperation as she had to abandon luke without answers, i again wish we could explore that but okay. whatever. im not mad

3. everything in hoogland. i might dedicate another post to that alone but for now just know i thought her behaviour was childish and ignorant, as well as somewhat out of character. i would’ve been more fine with it if hershel stepped in to stop her, but he didnt, so i can only assume level 5 wanted me to agree with her actions which 🤷‍♂️ nah i dont.

TLDR; emmy rocks, i love her, hoogland never happened

[corazondebeskar-reads]

well it's love, make it hurt - chapter fifteen

well it's love, make it hurt series

fifteen: would have been nice to say I knew you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Words: 2.9k

Summary: You and Mando meet again.

Warnings: discussions of genocide, the purge of mandalore, descriptions of grief, survivor's guilt, communication?, talking about feelings??, a tiny bit of groguito

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

9 ABY - Fall

You can’t breathe. Sure, it could be a different ST-70. Maybe all Mandalorians flew them.

But—

You turn your wrist over and stare at your chrono.

You have to try.

You feel like the ghost, now, your limbs cold and prickling. Your feet carry you down the tree to the forest's edge.

It never worked at long distances. But—

If it’s his. If he hasn’t changed the programming.

It pulls right up when you turn the dial.

You press the first button to disable the ground security protocols. It gives no indication of success or failure, but it never had.

Your finger hovers over the button that, if he’s left your chrono coded into the system, will open the ramp.

Your hands shake so badly that you miss the button on the first try and end up jamming your thumb on the screen before getting it right. You’re so busy being mad at your chrono and your stupid nerves that the hiss of the ramp lowering startles you.

The thought of walking up it nearly makes you puke.

It’s funny, you think. You haven’t delved into any of the games you used to play with Mando in five years, but one look at the Crest makes a masochist out of you. That must be it, because otherwise, why would you be stepping into the hull while your chest is screaming?

Time has stood still in the Crest. It’s neat and clean. Your old bed-turned-sofa sits against the wall. You can’t bear to open the bunk or climb up to the cockpit. You can’t move at all, actually, leaden feet stuck in the purgatory of the entrance. Neither in nor out.

But it doesn’t smell right. It doesn’t smell like Mando. Sure, gunpowder and oil permeate the air, but the deep spice of his cooking is completely absent. The scent was so strong before that it clung stubbornly to every soft surface and couldn’t be shaken out.

“You went to all the trouble of that elaborate stunt in the cantina just to come right to the ship?”

The crackle of the modulator startles you enough to whirl around, blaster pointed.

“It worked, you know,” he says quietly, hands up but slowly climbing the ramp.

You back up, blaster unwavering.

“I lost your trail. Smart trick.”

“Then how’d you find me?”

“Got an alert that you disengaged the ground security.” He sighs, and his shoulders slump. “Can we talk?”

“Where’s your baby?” you counter.

“Sleeping in your apartment.”

“What?” You stare, mouth agape, top lip arched in a facsimile of a sneer.

“Well, it’s the safest place in the city, other than this ship. And I wasn’t sure how this was going to go.”

“You left your baby in my apartment. My apartment full of weapons.”

“He’s in the pod, he’ll be fine.”

“You left your baby locked in a pram in an apartment full of weapons.”

“He’s not my baby.”

Mando gives a little shrug with one shoulder.

You stare at him, eyes wide and wild. “That’s... that's worse.”

“I have a monitor.” He presses a button on his vambrace and a speaker crackles. If you listen closely, you can hear soft breathing.

You think something in your brain has snapped. Or exploded. Something critical, maybe. The nausea has been replaced with rage colder than hyperspace. It gives you the nerve to stomp past him down the ramp.

He doesn’t try to stop you. He does, however, follow you.

“Kriff off, Mandalorian.”

“I would, but I have to go with you.”

You whirl around, blaster still in your hand. “Do not follow me.”

“I need to pick up the baby. He’s at your place, remember?”

You scream. You honest-to-stars fucking scream, throwing your blaster in favor of shoving him hard with both hands.

He stumbles back a little. He must have had his guard down; he didn’t really think you’d come at him.

But you do it again, and it’s all the worse to realize he’s just letting you, and nothing is satisfying the burn, the way your teeth ache for a fight. What are you supposed to do? Punch him in his beskar head?

“Fucking coward,” you snarl, gearing up to push him again for lack of a better outlet.

He catches you by both wrists this time. His grip is firm but not painful.

You struggle even though you know it’s over.

He holds still and silent as you spit vitriol and kick at him. He even anticipates when you lunge to sink your teeth into his gloved fingers, yanking your wrists away, and you stumble.

Of course, he pulls you steady, unwavering.

Your chest is heaving; you’re still burning. “Fight back,” you huff. “Fucking fight me back.”

“You don’t want to fight,” he says, infuriatingly calm. “You want to hurt.”

“Don’t you start that shit.”

“I’m not going to, cyar’ika. But I know you.”

“Stop,” you yell. “You don’t get to say that or anything to me. You’re dead.” Your voice breaks humiliatingly on the last sentence.

“I’m sorry.”

You wrench out of his grasp as he repeats it.

You let yourself fall on the ground on your ass., leaning back on your hands in the damp field to stare straight out at the trees.

He sits down next to you, wise enough to keep a safe distance. You hate that it’s easier when you don’t have to look at him. That you can feel him, and you know, you just know it’s really him.

You close your eyes and shake your head. “S’not real. I had a bad ronto, and I’m going to wake up in the fresher.”

“That happen a lot?”

“Nah, just the once.”

“That's good. I gave one to the kid.”

You tip your head back and stare up at the stars. "How are you here?” It’s just a breath louder than the breeze.

“My tribe did not live on Mandalore, but on one of its moons,” he begins but pauses to think. “There was a... complicated political history, one I was too young to understand, that split the Mandalorians. My people built a home on Concordia.”

“You always said—”

“I know. I’m sorry. At the time, it was simpler. Easier than explaining something I didn’t know enough about.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” you mumble. “You didn’t owe me anything. Still don’t.”

He’s quiet for a minute. “Do you truly believe that?”

“Why now?” It comes out softer than you meant it to. Defeated.

He sighs. “At first, I couldn’t. I tried to reach you. But from the sound of it, I made it to Nevarro about three months after you left.”

The nausea comes back with a vengeance. “Oh.”

“I understand, now. Why you left,” he says.

It doesn’t matter. You’re fractured, like the next words out of his mouth will shatter you.

You hadn’t waited.

You had run away.

The horror must show on your face because he does a double take and sits up on his knees, turning to you. “No, sweetheart—”

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Maybe not. It was selfish. But I’ve been looking for you in every crowd for the last five years, and when I finally got a lead, I couldn’t help it. Told myself I’d just see if you were alright. But then I got here. And you were. You were safe, almost happy. I had about worked up the nerve to walk away.”

“And then I tackled you and held a knife to your throat?”

“No. Then I saw you wearing my tunic.”

"What, were you watching me sleep through my window?"

He's quiet for a beat too long.

"Wow. You were."

"And you were using it on purpose."

“It’s just a shirt.”

“Is it? If it is, I can go.”

You both fall silent.

You wrap your arms around your knees and stare at the ground. “I grieved for you,” you whisper. “It’s so stupid. I know it's nothing compared to what you've been through.” You wipe your eyes on your sleeve. "And it’s not like we were together. ” You fail to keep the bitterness from your voice.

“It would have been so much easier if we just… never saw each other again. I would have missed you, but I always knew how it would go. But the idea of you—” Your throat tightens, and you stop, struggling to take a deep breath.

You thought you were over this part. Instead, it's like cutting open a freshly-cauturized vibroblade gash. “I wish you hadn’t come. It was cruel of you.”

The night is quiet, save for the gorgs. What feels like hours pass as you sit side by side in silence.

“You never said it back," he says, not without a trace of sorrow.

You look up, the sudden noise catching you off guard. “What?”

“You said we weren’t together, but that was your boundary. Your choice from the beginning. ‘Hunting and fucking, nothing complicated.’ I thought, for a while, that things had changed. That you just needed time. But you never said it back, and then you left.”

“Never said what back?” Something is itching in your brain, something horrible and sickly. Oh, no. No, no, no.

He tilts his head, and you realize you’ve said the last bit aloud.

“No, that was a dream. We were on a beach, which never happened, so it was a dream.”

“That night? After… after we left Axis?”

You bury your face in your hands. This cannot be happening. You don’t know if you’ll survive this.

“You might have been falling asleep, cyar’ika, but I said it.”

You shake your head. “No. It wasn’t real.”

“It was. I said I loved you.”

“Stop. Stop it. You’ve done enough; fine, I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, but you can’t do this to me.” You dig your nails into the flesh of your forearm and focus on breathing, but the world has narrowed to a roaring wind in your ears and black tendrils taking over your vision.

It's been three years since you've blacked out like that, but it must have happened, because he’s holding you up when you can feel again.

“There you go, sweetheart, just breathe,” he’s murmuring. His bare hands are on you; you can feel the heat on the back of your head and middle of your spine. Your face is burning, and throat flayed.

“What doesn’t matter?” he asks.

“What?”

“You said it doesn’t matter.”

You shake your head to clear the storm and pull away from him, thankful that he lets go without a fuss. “Oh. It doesn’t matter, Mando. It doesn’t matter what was or wasn’t said. Not now.”

“Why? Why doesn’t it? It feels like it matters a lot.”

"We've lived completely different lives; we're not the same people we were then."

"We're not so changed that we can't understand one another."

You’re tired. You’re too tired to move or think carefully enough for this conversation. The panic always drains you, and it’s as if your body is finally catching up to the last three hours. Instead of answering, you just bury your face back in your hands and groan.

“Hey,” he says, reaching over to pluck a leaf from your hair. “I don’t want to leave things this way. Will you stay? Just for tonight, so we can talk in the morning.”

“I don't think that’s a good idea.”

“You fainted. I don’t think you should try to walk home. Unless you want me to give you a ride?”

“Don’t think you can land the Crest at my apartment.”

“No, with the phoenix. The jetpack.”

That wakes you up a little. “No. Absolutely not. No, thank you. I’ll sleep here with the gorgs.”

“You’ll get eaten by a puffer pig.”

“Will not.”

“They can be vicious when they want to.”

“They love me,” you say and wish you hadn’t.

“I bet they do,” and it’s sickeningly soft, not a hint of teasing. “Please, cyar’ika? I’ll sleep in the cockpit; you can have the bunk to yourself.”

You sigh. You don’t think you have it in you to scale the fucking spires and Oga’s roof again. You could go around, but that’ll add another hour. By then, the fucking suns will be up.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you say.

“Okay,” he lies. “C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

You let him help you up but pull away when he tries to support you. You don’t need the help; you could stumble around the Crest and find the bunk even if you were fully asleep. All these years haven’t changed that.

When you lay down, that’s the end of it for you. All your energy slips out, and you barely notice when he tucks the blanket in.

You meet the kid first thing in the morning. Like, first thing. Two hours later, with the three Batuuan stars beaming down from the cabin to the hull.

You meet him immediately because he climbs onto the bunk, and you startle awake, reaching to draw your blaster. Lucky for the kid, you left it in the fucking field overnight.

You sit up, and he climbs into your lap and looks up at you with huge brown eyes that should frankly be weaponized. He tilts his head and coos.

“Are you the baby?” What a stupid question, you think through the haze of too little sleep and too much everything else.

He grabs your hand with three little fingers. It’s painfully cute. And painfully painful. He has some sharp little nails.

You look around the bunk. It’s the same as it ever was, except for a fabric draped across the ceiling. The sharpness starts to grow again behind your sternum, but it’s cut off when the kid makes another sound. He reaches up, and you inexplicably lean down. His little hand touches your cheek.

“Yeah, okay, you’re very cute. Did you need something?”

He looks up at you, unblinking, and you find yourself in the galaxy’s strangest staring contest for a minute. Then he yawns and reaches his arms up, and it clicks.

“Oh! That’s your bed, isn’t it?” You lift him and help him climb in. He nestles into the hammock and falls right to sleep.

You think about doing the same. Just going back to bed, or at least pretending to, so you don’t have to face Mando.

Who, of course, pops up in the doorway. He was always so fucking quiet; it only got worse after he stopped wearing his armor around the ship.

Now, though, he's fully clad. He has a hand on his helmet, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I tried to keep him away.”

“It’s fine,” you shrug. “I kind of stole his bedroom.”

“No, it’s okay; he sleeps in the pod all the time.”

Another awkward silence falls. Your head is pounding.

“C’mon, I got breakfast.”

“You got breakfast, or you made breakfast? Because I haven’t had to eat rations in five years.” You accept his peace offering and slide out of the bunk.

He closes it behind you.

“You trap him in there, too?”

“No, he can get out. This is just in case you yell at me again.”

So much for the fucking peace. You scowl and rub your left arm.

He sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this, either.” He waits a moment. “It’s a platter and caf from the docking bay.”

He’s got you there, and he knows it. He brings you the caf as soon as you sit down.

You brace yourself when the modulator picks up an inhale, but when he speaks, it’s not what you were afraid of.

“He’s a foundling. I’ve been quested to return him to his kind.”

“Oh.”

“He was a bounty, first. It’s a long story, but one I would very much like to tell you someday.”

And there it is. You close your eyes, lips pursing.

“I know you said it doesn’t matter. And if it’s what you really want, I’ll leave you alone,” he says.

You chew on your lip but don’t speak, which he takes as an invitation.

“Or, you could come with me.” He raises a hand when you open your mouth. “Just for a few days. I have to leave today to follow a lead before it’s too late. I can come back. Or you could come with us.”

“I have a whole life here,” you warn.

“Is that a yes?”

You groan. It shouldn’t be. You should go to your apartment, pack up your things, and take the next ride out of here so he can’t find you again. That would be the smart choice, to protect yourself.

But what you say is, “Fine.”

“Okay.” He tries to weigh his options, how best to proceed without spooking you. He wants to tear his gloves off and grab your hands, to pull you into his lap.

He doesn’t. He knows you’re not wrong. The things you both have lived through while apart are not insignificant. The pain has forced you to grow in different directions.

But it aches to have you sitting there, to have you home, and to not really have you at all.

So he does the only thing he can think of in that moment. Something desperate but not reckless. He’s thought about little else since the encounter with Gideon.

“Cyar’ika,” he begins cautiously, fingers tapping against the table. “I need to tell you something.”

You look up, lips pursed but eyes soft. Open, willing to chance what he’s about to say, but not without a hint of fear.

“My name is Din.”

*title from "Carpathia" by Taking Back Sunday

[itsbenedict]

Games I Played In 2023 And Whether Or Not I Thought They Were Good (Part 1/4)

Once again, a year has passed, and I spent a considerable chunk of it on video games! Here's what I thought about [e: some of] the ones that I played.

1 - [2] - [3] - [4]

Potionomics

This game is- well, I've never played a Recettear game, but apparently it's a Recettear knockoff? You run a potion shop, and you hire adventurers to go into dungeons to get ingredients for your potion shop, and the whole thing's on a timer where you have to pay off a big debt by the end... apparently there's a formula it's aping that I'm unfamiliar with.

But it's very fun- it's got two main unique mechanics, one of which is a potion-brewing minigame about balancing ingredients in certain ratios which is challenging- and the other of which is an STS-style deckbuilder card game where you haggle with customers in lieu of combat. Both systems have a lot of depth and interesting options and I enjoyed them a lot.

Other standouts: the cast of support characters you can rank up social links with are great (love love love the coffee-addled workaholic moth girl and the comic relief cat pirates with a surprisingly dark backstory), and the fully-animated 3D character portraits are really fun and expressive.

Nitpicks: the time system having one time block reserved for the hour it takes to go home after visiting town is... an awkward choice (holdover from the Recettear structure they're aping?), and lategame you kind of cap out in potion-making capacity and it becomes kind of tricky to progress. Also the story's kinda predictable and the villains who don't later become party members are paper-thin.

Horizon: Forbidden West

God this game pisses me off.

Horizon: Zero Dawn, its predecessor, was a fun open-world game about hunting robot dinosaurs and uncovering the surprisingly elaborate story behind why there are robot dinosaurs. I enjoyed it a lot!

Forbidden West has everything Zero Dawn had... and also mountains of tedious cruft to pad out the game's runtime which all infuriates me to no end.

The story is still quite good! And the robot dinosaur fighting is still quite good! Those are the important parts, and they nailed them... but I have complained at my friends for hours about the bafflingly bad design choices that plague every other aspect of this game constantly. It's... there's so much, I want to like, make a video going into the details, but in short...

The cool and versatile weapons from the last game have been split up into piles of slightly-different weapons with different elements so you have to carry around and upgrade ten times as much crap and are forced to spec into a build that locks you out of effective experimentation

Every little noncombat action in the game has some very realistic and pretty AAA graphics animation that takes too long and wastes your time constantly during basic gameplay and kills flow dead

The very cool procedural climbing mesh thing... gets arbitrarily turned off in inexplicably oiled-up puzzle ruins that very badly want you to push a crate around in every way it's possible to push a crate around in order to waste the maximum amount of your time

Cooking "system" which is the most comprehensively useless thing anyone probably spent dozens of hours implementing in their video game

Item wheel that contains every consumable item in the game regardless of whether you currently have any and is basically unnavigable during tense situations like, say, combat, when you need it

So many repetitive sidequests about some poor fucker who went missing and might be in danger and is every single time dead to a bunch of robot dinosaurs obviously. Lot of missions designed to kill time rather than show you something cool or have interesting story.

There's a lot to like and it's super cool but god there's so much to be mad at. Respects the player's time 0%. I'm gonna go off about this more later for sure.

Disco Elysium

Oh my god, this game. It's... really something. You might be familiar with it from memes on Tumblr, about its comically inept slash deranged protagonist and his partner with the patience of a saint- but it's doing so much more than I expected from the out-of-context screencaps.

Like- yes, it's fucking hilarious. I love that about it. But it's also this incredibly detailed work of worldbuilding that creates this whole setting that's doing... some wild stuff. Like, you've maybe heard it's very political? Well, it is, but about weird alternate universe sci-fi politics that sort of halfway resemble our own, and it's thought through all of these invented social dynamics. And it's got a great sense of atmosphere- it knows when to be funny and when to be solemn and how to blend the two for maximum effect. It's a dark comedy, but it's all built on a dead-serious reality and a really effective story.

And- it is a murder mystery game about solving cases! It works very well on that level! It manages to be open-ended and let you solve things in a variety of different ways using this complex RPG stat system of creatively-designed psychological stats, while making sure the central whodunit (and a bevy of fascinating satellite mysteries) stays on track. Extremely good on a game design level.

(also some shit happens in this game that i was not at all expecting and can't even go into without spoilers, but- but holy fuck, the way this game opens up and the things it manages to hide in plain sight... just mind-boggling. incredibly impressive.)

Tunic

Speaking of hiding things in plain sight- neither this nor Disco Elysium came out this year, so I can't call either of them GotY, but... if they had, I'd have a hard time deciding.

Tunic is incredibly clever. On the surface, it's an isometric soulslike thing with a low-poly Zelda-y aesthetic... but there's not just the surface. There's layers and layers to this thing. The first layer it hits you with is that most of the game's UI is in a made-up rune script, which you have to learn, which is a fun challenge and caused me to spend a few hours making a tool to catalogue and decrypt the damn thing- though I eventually learned to sight-read it. But that's just- that's like, the tip of the iceberg, the most obvious twist to what this game is.

There's, like... I don't want to spoil what there's like. The whole thing is about peeling back the layers and figuring out which seemingly arbitrary aesthetic choices were secretly meaningful, and seeing how the game transforms as you figure out the different sorts of secret structure layered on top of each other. It's actually best compared to The Witness, although there's still a pretty meaty and challenging action-adventure game to tackle while you're uncovering the hidden patterns and deepest lore. It's a fascinating intellectual challenge and highly recommended to anyone who likes giving their noggin something to chew on.

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

Man, so... this game is very impressive, but it's in a weird place due to some awkward design decisions and cut corners.

This is a direct sequel to smash megahit Breath of the Wild... sort of. It's very weird what it's doing. It really wants to be a self-contained thing, to the point of throwing out major setting elements and story concepts from BotW entirely so it can do its own thing... but on a mechanical level, this is the same game, with some very cool new mechanics and a cool-ish new story bolted on.

(Said story... it has one extremely cool plot twist that's also a gameplay twist, delivered effectively in a nonlinear way that creates this great sense of dawning comprehension. Otherwise... kind of a nothingburger. Ganondorf is boring and has no coherent motivation, there's no explanation or real plot relevance to the [spoilers] that seem like such a central thing, and... the whole thing revolves around a technologically advanced precursor civilization that's completely different from the technologically advanced precursor civilization established by the last game, of which all evidence has been meticulously scrubbed from the world to... I guess avoid confusion? The one huge central plot beat really works, and the rest is... low-effort nonsense.)

So, mechanically... the developers made this very odd choice to... have the game take place in the exact same map from the first game, except warped and remixed by geologic upheaval just enough to force the environment designers to redo every bit of landscape more or less from scratch. Like, all the same recognizable locations, but a step to the left. In theory, not a bad idea- but then they layer on top of that a threefold expansion to the world.

TotK has three world maps- Hyrule, the sky (full of floating islands now), and a third spoilery area that's the same size as both of those. The game's economy is thus weirdly trifurcated- crucial resources are located in all three areas, so you need to go up and down and up and down a lot. And so is the game's content- there's a roughly comparable amount of stuff in BotW and TotK, but TotK splits it across three maps, making each area feel largely empty, with a lot of wasted space.

This effect is especially noticeable in Hyrule, which... if you've played BotW, you won't really find anything new there. It's all the same places with a few tweaks, so there's not much sense of discovery if you played the original. There's a bunch of landmarks and areas that exist purely because they were there before and it'd be weird for them to disappear... except now instead of some secret or loot there, there's just nothing. Wasted space. And both the sky and the other new map are pretty homogeneous and unrewarding to explore once you've seen the four or five types of things they have to offer- they're mainly made up of recycled assets.

TotK is... I think strictly better than BotW, with more content and more fun core mechanics, but it's a worse experience than BotW if you played the first one. If you haven't played BotW, Hyrule will still be fun to explore, and you probably want to jump straight to TotK.

-

I'm... gonna have to break this post up to get to the 21 other games I played this year, otherwise it's gonna be stupid long and take forever. Stay tuned!

1 - [2] - [3] - [4]

[satashiiwrites]

wip wednesday, part 2

and a second time, just for fun and because I haven’t in a while. Catching up on a day off 🙃

Graphics by me.

Title: Welcome to the Jungle

Fandom: 911

Pairings: Buddie, Robert Nash Jr/Daniel Buckley, assume other canon pairings will make an eventual appearance.

Fic Summary:  From the concrete jungle to the actual jungle, five players will be summoned to Jumanji to save it from the wicked Van Pelt.

Rating: Explicit (sex, stereotyped villain) 

Tags/warnings: explicit sex, canon-typical violence, Jumanji AU, time travel fix it, slow burn, long fic, pod fic welcome, deviating from canon where it suits the story, canon timeline is a mess and we’re just not going to stress about it, author doesn’t do straight up adaptations, eventual happy ending, mention of divorce and canon character deaths, aged up Robbie and Brook, mentions of child neglect/abuse from the Buckley parents

Tagging @dannyreader8 @shipperqueen6 @tiny-reader @killerpeguin @victory-in-my-veins @idealuk @aida-sparks @piratepyxis @lesbianswiftie137 @buddiesmutslut @haderaide @zimes89 @rosieposiepuddingpie @lilylovesthings @spoodle-monkey @rasquirrell @blue-winged-boy . If you’d like to be tagged/or removed from posts related to this fic, interact with this post.

December 2009, St. Paul, Minnesota

It’s a week after Thanksgiving and St. Paul is starting to enter the deep freeze of winter.  It’s not fully taken hold yet, afternoons still are warm enough that the snow flurries aren’t sticking around and the four inches of snow they had the day after Thanksgiving has melted away like a premonition of the deeper snows to come. 

School’s out for the day and Robbie is walking home with Brooke, neither of them in a hurry to get to their destination.  Home has been tense as of late. Mom and Dad are fighting more and more but trying to keep it away from Robbie’s ears but he’s old enough now that he picks up more.  Brooke, despite being three years younger, also knows. 

They all know that Dad’s off the wagon again. 

Rehab didn’t stick. 

Robbie’s not sure what will make his Dad stay sober. He’d thought that Dad had been doing well until Uncle Charlie had visited for Thanksgiving and then it’d all gone to hell. There’d been yelling and Mom telling Uncle Charlie to leave which had almost led to a fist fight over the turkey.  Robbie had been ready to back up his Dad but instead, Dad had put on his coat and shoes and taken Uncle Charlie down to the corner pub which was open even on holidays. 

Dad had smelled like a liquor store when he’d stumbled home after midnight. 

He’s smelled of it on his days off ever since. 

Mom’s tongue has been sharper than a knife and demanded that they come straight home from school so they don’t get into trouble, which means that Robbie’s had to drop out of basketball and Brooke out of cheerleading.  

Robbie misses his friends.  All of his friends are on the basketball team and don’t understand why he can’t stay after school anymore.  It’s not like he’s a little kid and needs a babysitter anymore and Brooke was taking classes to be a babysitter, so she doesn’t need one either. 

Instead, they’re both reluctantly headed home two hours earlier than they used to, backpacks heavy with homework. 

Walking home—because Mom wouldn’t let him use his learner’s permit to take him and Brooke to and from school like he had been. There was no reason for Mom to drive to the school to let him then drive home if they could just walk. 

Robbie’s pretty sure he’s not going to get his full license when he turns sixteen—that he’ll have to wait until Mom’s okay with it.  Not with how Mom’s been restricting like she did the last time Dad got this bad.  When Dad gets like this, Mom needs control.  When Robbie was younger it’d been annoying and scary, now it’s frustrating and he’s getting mad.  Last night, Mom had taken away the GameBoy he’d gotten for his birthday telling him he needed to focus on school, not games. 

He doesn’t like being mad at his parents and he kicks a piece of paper that is crumped up on the sidewalk. 

“Robbie!” Brooke scolds, picking up the dirty paper and holding it up between pinched fingers.  The face she’s making at him is full of disappointment. “There’s a trash can right over there,” she points, holding the paper out for him to take. 

The trash can is next to an alley and is over full.  Trash pickup got delayed last week because of the holiday and people have been stashing bags wherever they can, a broken bag likely the source of the litter Brooke is holding. Rolling his eyes and with a heavy sigh, Robbie takes the gross paper and stuffs it between two bags.  “There? Happy?”

Brooke frowns, cocking her head which makes her blonde pony tail sway.  “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Robbie asks even as he feels the low thrum of a drumbeat in his bones, making him want to shiver. 

“The drums?  Do you hear them?”

“I do.  Where is it coming from?”

“It’s coming from the alley,” Brooke whispers, eyes wide as she stares down the narrow alley between apartment buildings.  They’re only two blocks from home . 

Robbie, suddenly feeling contrary, decides to investigate. So what if they’re five minutes late getting home?  Mom can deal with it. 

“Robbie!” Brooke hisses, trying to catch his coat as he slides past the mountain of trash.  “What are you doing?!?”

“Seeing what’s making the noise,” he tosses over his shoulder as he moves deeper into the alley.  It’s dark in here, the late afternoon sun rapidly fading this far north and the angle of sunlight is blocked by the tall buildings on either side.  Soon, they’ll be walking home from school in the twilight, Robbie thinks as he twists around a broken fire escape ladder that is stuck in the down position.

He should tell his dad about the broken ladder.  This building is connected to theirs and Dad likes to make sure exits are always clear for evacuations. 

The drumbeats grow stronger, seeming to echo from everywhere as it bounces off the brick walls until he stumbles across a trash bag that spills open at his feet, dropping something heavy on his left foot. 

The drumbeats cease and the only noise is the distant sound of traffic that is ubiquitous anywhere in St. Paul. 

“Ouch,” Robbie grumbles as he crouches to see what fell on his foot. 

“Robbie?” Brooke calls, having followed him into the alley.  

“I’ll be right there, Brooke,” he says as he uncovers an old GameBoy. 

[mrxcreepypastamadness]

Hellish Hollows Song #4:

Overdue

Character cover: Ms. L

Notice: Some parts of the lyrics will be changed to fit her theme. Thank you. ^^

Lolli Muttonfudge?: 🎵Who's that girl you see, who grooms her hair so well? This mystery will be unsolved by those whose who fell into this hell.🎵

Pico: 🎵Who's that in the street, stumbling like a drunken bitch, get fucked. Get out of my way do you not see the gun?🎵

Lolli Muttonfudge?: 🎵Now behold the twilight of a so-called racer who somehow found it easy to betray she who she claim to love, the one who laid me low from above.🎵

Pico: 🎵Cool, but who asked? Oh, wait, I know the number - zero! I gotta go, you made me slow I'm getting sick of ya.🎵

*She grew in length as she turned around revealing her true self*

Ms. L: HAHAHAHA

Pico: What the FUCK is that thing!?

Ms. L: 🎵Glad you're here, now it's too late to escape you will know the fear I felt as I began to melt in flames to hate!🎵

Pico: 🎵Jesus Christ, you're the ugliest thing I've seen, Fuckin' die, I didn't know the goddamn slender girl wore green!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Witness who's behind the mask, desecrated you should've been afraid to ask, now in desolation, you will bask.🎵

Pico: 🎵Buncha fancy words for making dudes dead nothing I haven't heard before, Eat lead!🎵

Pico: Die motherfucker! *He began to shoot her depends how many bullets will run out*

Ms. L: 🎵In the whispers of the woods truth echoes freely, the who claims to be just, is a liar. Sure of racer's selfhood but gaze upon me, one look shall reveal what transpired!🎵

Pico: 🎵Got three in the chamber, bitch, I'm packin' heat, best spill where ya took my homie or you'll taste the street! I'm really getting sick of you, I got shit to do, if you're between me and he, you're the one blowing holes through!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Standing on the bridge over the Lord's Inferno, hand in hand, I thought we fight together. And I never lost my trust to my sis until she plunged me to her foe.🎵

Pico: 🎵If that's what you say, guess you had a bad day and now you're here with some kind of curse, your night's getting worse, gonna put you in a hearse if you don't get the fuck outta my way!🎵

*Transitioning to a Hellish background of eyes and mouth*

Ms. L: 🎵Our sacred ties were but sacred to me, how I hated he got off free.🎵

Pico: 🎵What the fuck's this for? I'm not into vore! This place is an eyesore! Didn't your mama say to brush your teeth?🎵

Ms. L: 🎵For her betrayal, the world shall burn!🎵

Pico: 🎵 I'm gonna make your heart churn! How many shots before you learn?🎵

Ms L: 🎵It's their turn! Strike the infestation of the ones who lie through their teeth!🎵

Pico: 🎵For your information, you should be six feet beneath!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Those who feel no guilt, those who feel no sence of shame, all will play my game, all will perish all the same know my name!🎵

Pico: 🎵We got arbiters of vengeance. Cool, what a show, how's that gonna go with a name like Lolli Mario?🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Madness is honesty within a world ruled by Cain, the pain of treachery can only dull with sweet revenge!🎵

Pico: 🎵This whiny shit's killin' me, tonight is such a fucking pain. Want my honesty? The worst thing about you is that stench!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Oh, did our bond of blood truly matter not? Oh, dear sister I did love you, Molly...so then why did you twist the knife in the gash?🎵

*MOLLY (The Forgiven) appears*

Pico: 🎵The fuck this have to do with me? For I was not, was not right there for what had happened. Oh your careless tunnel vision right before the final crash got your ass in lava splash!🎵

MOLLY (The Forgiven): 🎵I know you can't forgive-a-me. For I would not, could not myself for what had happened...Oh, my careless tunnel vision on the final fated crash, burned my sister into ash...T-T🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Who's that girl you see, who grooms her hair so well? Who's the one who saw me as an empty shell to throw in the pyre, to damn within the fire. No need for apologies long past overdue, your sins you'll rue!🎵

Pico: 🎵Wow bro, cool story. Cheap as free, just so you know, sorry not sorry. I couldn't find a soul who cared. None around for the brothers in the underground.🎵

MOLLY (The Forgiven): 🎵Who's that fool you see, It's a me. Oh my dear sis, I'm so sorry, I should've have made sure that you were there, safe and sound maybe you'd still be around...😭🎵 *She fades away*

Ms L: IT'S TIME TO GO TO THE NEXT LEVEL!

Pico: *Pico ran out of bullets as he threw his gun to the ground* Son of a bitch! *He runs off as the background changed into dark hallway as multiple Ms. Ls appeared*

Ms L: 🎵Wind me up, and up I go to claim you all as my prize for all the pain I've endured. I decree it's an eye for an eye!🎵

Pico: 🎵What the fuck's your deal? Can't take the shit out in me! Man, go to therapy! Go fix your miserable life!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Even as you run away, you know that you're here to stay. One martyr will not slake my fury, now your blood will spill in righteous reverie.🎵

Pico: 🎵But you ain't gonna get to me, this ain't a horror movie. I won't be a victim you ain't catchin' me!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵Treachery! Come, face me, whipping-boy and know my wrath, for I was toyed with by your vile kin! Come to Abel, pay for sin! Run and run as you might, you can't fight for the guilt of man shall overtake you and snuff out your light!🎵

Pico: 🎵I'm gettin' off this line, Pico is feelin' fine, Pico is livin' through the night! What a shitty monologue, I ain't the one you should flog, I'm gettin' through the fog Goodbye! You utter waste of time! Get an extra life and get the fuck out of mine!🎵

Ms. L: 🎵It's my world, my rules! My justice is overdue! *She fades away*🎵

Pico: Fucking bitch!

Based off of:

Friday Night Funkin' Mario's Madness - Overdue - With Lyrics

Original Lyrics written by: Man on the Internet

Rewritten Lyrics written by: mrxcreepypastamadness

[iantimony]

twoweeker tuesday: redux

im really making a trend of two-weekin these huh. gonna try to Not do that bc it makes me way less likely to actually do it lol. speed-posting this before bed (and before the melatonin kicks my ass, i'm trying to reset my sleep sched a bit)

listening: hozier unreal unearth. sammy rae & the friends. leaving this pretty sparse because i don't want to dig back through my history for the past two weeks and that's definitely the bulk of it. some notes from the Release Radar(tm) that i like: good luck, babe! - chappell roan bell - rob blivion waiting. - pater ...all (feat jake clemons, live) - grouplove i had not my hat - tom rosenthal april 8, 2024: the great north american eclipse - sleeping at last (!!!) too sweet - hozier flea - st vincent lil' freak - bbno$

reading: finished the main bit of scum villain! i'm reading the extras now. officially read all three mxtx books

watching: FINISHED SERIAL EXPERIMENTS LAIN. i have so many thoughts. i was in delta-orionis' dms about it a bit but my ass has so many Notes. many thoughts. gnosticism mostly but also the obvious tech-as-extension-of-self throughline. idk it was a very weird show and i definitely need to re-watch it to let it sink in a little more.

playing: no games but a lot of horn! i have an audition tomorrow for the fall's campus ensembles, i am...not super confident about it tbh, unsurprisingly i am not back to where i was pre-pandemic so my upper range and endurance is still really crunchy.

making: i keep forgetting to charge my phone before pottery so it keeps. dying. so i made quite a few new things the past few weeks but no photos of those - i did Crack the Code a bit, so now i can more reliably get things shaped in a conscious way. basically i was sitting too far forward so when i was pulling the walls up i was actually doing it at an angle, if i sit with my nose over the center of the pot it's all *chef kiss* beautiful. anyways here's a few glaze related pics. a lot of disappointment unfortunately.

1. my fucked up teacups. god im so mad about these. they were supposed to be a cool grey-green with a white flower, and matte. it is None Of These Things. idk will get redone. big mad.

2. bowl and mug that both got bubbles because i misread the glaze labels - they're both mayco glazes that are optimized for cone 05, not cone 5, so the both the color is not as good as i thought and also the surface variation is. not great. the bowl is acceptable, it's mirror blue, it went through the kiln again and the bubbles evened out (pic is from before), and plus it's on the outside - i just put plain white on the inside - so it's fine. the mug is a little more problematic. it was green slip sgraffito with evergreen fir over top, and i really love the color effect, but there's some small bubbles along the rim...this glaze was marked as food safe in a way that the mirror blue is Not so i thought it would be fine but. well. i'm hoping nuking it in the kiln again will smooth those out.

3. One Good Thing: trying a new glaze technique! someone in my studio does this gorgeous thing where she paints on flowers with underglaze, then covers them with liquid latex to paint on the background, and finally peels off the latex. it always comes out sooo nice, so when i ordered some more underglaze i went ahead and added liquid latex to cart too :3 this is just the flowers, i will be adding the background tomorrow!

eating: uhhh good cauliflower vegetarian shawarma thing that i refused to make unless we added a can of chickpeas because where in the fuck is the protein. tonight was a miso-butter chicken with radishes that we added potatoes and onions to. both sheetpan recipes so im def a fan of those now.

misc: ouuuugh. augh. oughghghg. i need to be done with homework forever please god. i have like...7? 8? total hws left between my two classes. and then i am Done With Classes. mentally gearing up to do my preliminaries at the end of the summer. not to doxx myself but ouch. basketball yesterday. Pain. the eclipse yesterday WAS unreal. oh my god. i drove to [redacted] very small town about 40 minutes from me and it was perfect. so glad i avoided the Big City, although that's where my roommate and her mom went and apparently the traffic was fine, but i'm definitely glad to have been in a less crowded zone. i get it now. i want to take that feeling i had watching totality and eat it and keep it with me forever. i was with friends. the weather was perfect. it was beautiful.

[mejomonster]

Okay regarding the Dracula Silent Reading au concept I thought of earlier...

It's fucking Hilarious to me to imagine how zhoudu's particular Daddy kink would factor into a vampire au:

Fei Du, on Luo Wenzhou's lap, pinning him down, leaning down to bite, thinking he's got this whole flirting thing down since Luo Wenzhou feels turned on af and his heart is racing and he's staring lost in Fei Du's eyes

Then Luo Wenzhou flips them (cause even Vampire Fei Du is too rich and classy to Practice Fighting), he's handcuffed, stuck between Luo Wenzhou's legs face down in the cushions, shouting indignantly but it's coming out muffled. "!!!!"

Luo Wenzhou saying, "Now boy I don't know what you intended to do, but I need commitment before letting you touch me like that. Take it a little slower darling. Why don't you cool down." Reaching out and readjusting Fei Du, still screaming incomprehensibly, noticing his forehead is cold as a corpse. "Actually, let's warm you up. You're cold as death, sweetie." Then lifting him up and wrapping him (still handcuffed) nice and snug in a blanket. Fei Du is glaring dully, trying not to shout the thought in his mind "you idiot! I was going to kiss you to death! Drink you! I wasn't making a move! Even if I WAS being indecent, taking advantage of you, you'd have been dead at the end! Why do you even have handcuffs on you!!! Let me go!!" Alas he'd only say it in his mind, hoping the glare confers adequate rage to his target.

Luo Wenzhou making his mad little vampire some warm milk with honey, Fei Du politely letting Luo Wenzhou pour small sips into his lips, insisting: "drink up, it'll help you sleep. And with any luck stop your wicked thoughts." And Fei Du would be in between trying not to GAG at the drink suited for humans but not him, and trying not to scream at the fact milk can't do shit to horniness! Where's he even pulling that nonsense from?! But he'd cooperatively drink it, cause Luo Wenzhou looks 'friendly' despite Fei Du's assault, but if he's competent enough to subdue him then Fei Du will have to play nice until he's released. Also he is truly wrapped so tight in that blanket it's like a cocoon. Despite miserably being unable to feed, he is actually nearly as warm as a living person thanks to Luo Wenzhou's most generous 'efforts.'

Fei Du is silently seething, even more so when he tries to graze his lips across Luo Wenzhou's hand holding the glass rim, and in response gets a whack on the head. "You're the one assaulting me!" Fei Du would whine, the crankiness settling in from lack of blood for too long.

And Luo Wenzhou, the bastard, would just reply, "You're barely even marrying age, and you're going around trying to seduce men. A virgin like you should really be a little more modest."

At which point Fei Du can't take it anymore and snaps: "homosexual relations don't have a fucking thing to do with marriage! And who said I'm a virgin!"

"Well with moves like yours, I figured."

"An old man like you has no game, of course you can't tell when someone is more talented than you."

"If you were talented, darling," Luo Wenzhou couldn't help leaning forward, affording Fei Du the luck of hearing his racing heartbeat betraying his collected exterior mask as a lie, "you'd have me naked already, instead of being indisposed."

"I have no idea why that didn't happen, you didn't have any reason to restrain me." The whining just increasing with the lateness of the night.

Luo Wenzhou, quietly mulling around and cleaning up the now empty glasses and figuring out where to put Fei Du to 'sleep,' not mentioning he really stopped Fei Du because he did suspect Fei Du was trying to bite him. And what with rumors of a vampire on the loose, he didn't want to let that play out and find out. At least not yet. Master Fei is so cute, and arrogant, and unknown, and Luo Wenzhou would like to enjoy opening up the man a little more before condemning him to the mobs looking for a monster in the city. Even if there's a pit in his stomach sinking with the unpleasant intuition that it's less likely Fei Du would be a scapegoat, and more likely he really might be...

He'd pull a pillow over and tuck it behind Fei Du, then pull down his legs until he's laying across the couch, still nicely bundled up. Still colder than a human should be, when Luo Wenzhou's hand casually slips across his neck while readjusting him.

Fei Du laughed quietly to it. "Playing so hard to get, despite wanting me."

"Get some rest, Master Fei."

[rimouskis]

so I went to seattle

(looong post ahead)

I travelled! far!!! to a place I haven't been since I was, like... 11, maybe? 12? it's hard to remember, but it has been SUCH a long time since I've been west of, like, St. Louis, and god it feels good (more on that later).

first and foremost: I got to meet the lovely @ticklefighthockey!! she is a delight! she is an immaculate hostess! she has two very adorable dogs who rule her household! she is very good at being game for just about anything!

it was such a treat to meet up with another fandom friend. I am (more on this later) working myself towards a self-understanding that has room for respecting online friendships just as much as in-person ones. I think I still sometimes deal with residual shame over having more online friends than offline friends—just cultural baggage that says people with online friends are losers and socially-inept and weird. while I KNOW that isn't true, I've always had complicated feelings about the fact that since college my primary friendship circle has ALWAYS been online, while that has never been true for people in my offline life.

but (more on this later as well), I'm trying to be more understanding and kind towards myself about that, and trying to embrace the crazy cool uniqueness of it, which is a real gift.

anyways, back to fandom friends I get to hang out with:

isn't that amazing. I was agog at it.

jes is funny and engaging and game for anything! this is wonderful for me, a person who tries very hard to be funny and engaging and game for anything! of course, this meant we were aggressively "NO I WANT YOU TO HAVE THE BEST EXPERIENCE POSSIBLE DURING THIS VISIT"-ing at each other constantly through the entire weekend. truly the Nice Gal version of two rams clacking horns, but instead of fighting over potential mates (hi Sid) we were beating each other's skulls silly and yelling "NO BUT WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?"

highly amusing to me, but also very conducive to, in fact, having the best experience possible. we ran around town desperately trying to cram things into an incredibly condensed schedule, but I felt like I saw so much!

we were able to take her dogs—who are truly delightful and DECEPTIVELY YOUNG. you wouldn't know from how she talks about pip but he is 100% pure muscle (could give hornqvist a run for his money) and deeply willing to play tug-of-war until someone dies (it will be you. you will be the one to die. he will win.) and darling ruthie who will hate you until she decides she likes you (this will likely involve carrots) and after she likes you she does indeed become the precious angel baby of legend—out on an OUTDOOR HIKE! through a FOREST! near a LAKE!

these are in fact pedestrian things in seattle but to me, a poor midwesterner who lives on the very very tippy top of the appalachian region, this was GREAT FUN and MUCH EXCITEMENT. so we harnessed the dogs and embarked upon what we thought was a leisurely 4.2 mile hike and instead ended up being a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am-please-take-care-not-to-step-off-the-path-by-a-few-inches-lest-you-immediately-tumble-down-a-hundred-foot-ravine-to-your-grisly-(but-green-and-verdant!)-death-while-also-dragging-a-muscled-dog-with-you 0.42 mile MAD DASH.

we sped through it thanks to aforementioned muscled dog (and sister) having zero regard for imminent death (who cares about PERILOUS TRAILS when there are THINGS TO SNIFF) and at its end was a lake! wow!

it was gorgeous and lovely and I would, in fact, hike a death-defying 0.42 miles again to see it.

then I successfully talked jes into letting me swing by pike place market (literally solely for the 'gram), but there was some fall festival going on, which is cute but also made it crowded as shit, so I took my coveted pic and bolted

walking through downtown seattle was nice, even if I had to kind of jog because my days of making friends who are shorter than me (which is a feat) are over, and I am now cursed with friends who are in fact above average height, which makes me feel weird and also short (which I am). I liked seeing the city and also sort of being able to confirm that the city is nice and good and not what the NIMBYs and right-wing pundits would have you believe has happened to seattle. it's a good city! it's beautiful! literally everyone I met was so nice! (except for one kraken fan but we'll get to him).

speaking of hockey:

my god, does seattle know how to put on a show. I was agog at the arena. it is shiny and new and impressive and beautiful and full of wood paneling and GREENERY and all the athletic, clear-faced seattleites who occupy the city. I was in a state of shock. this is, in fact, the first NHL arena I've been to that isn't PPG Paints.

and it is so beautiful that i was immediately consumed with envy. how dare this new team, with all its west coast wealth, have better accommodations and audiovisuals and LIGHT UP SCULPTURES than my legacy appalachian team?

I swallowed my jealousy down and just took it all in. they basically put on a full amazon original before each period. there is LORE and the kraken entreat you to buy into it with full casts and impressive animations and a glow-in-the-dark tentacle erupting out of the ice. it is very effective. I did, in fact, buy merch.

also I dragged jes around during an intermission to track down the band and drumline because I fucking love a good drumline and if the pens knew what was good for them they would iNVEST IN A DRUMLINE

but I was thinking to myself that this is literally exactly how you build a fanbase. this is hockey made thrilling. this is excitement. this is a PRODUCTION. this is what the golden knights want to be. this is, verily, the exact sort of shindig I would bring a kid to if I endeavored to make them into a hockey fan. I think it would work. it was a whole experience in the way pens games just... are not. pens games are hockey games! a kraken game is a circus, a TV show, and a lightshow with also some hockey. I was so blown away.

but let's get to why I was there:

DAN POTASH.

and also some guys I guess:

I'm pleased to report geno looks as pretty in white in person as he does on tv. he is so big. he never, as jes puts it, shuts his mouth. ever.

sid was also there I guess. here's a rearview shot:

jes got to witness firsthand how I physically cannot shut up during a hockey game (I regret to inform you all that I am the "talking to the players/the universe in a desperate plea for good bounces" sort of fan), and was also witness to me laughing hysterically, truly like a madwoman, when the two kraken goals were called back. jes has a better recap of the game, but I can just say that I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I have seen much more embarrassing defeats at the hands of much less entertaining teams, so I was ready to bear that cross.

that being said, there was a drunk kraken fan the row ahead of us who was verbally harassing a penguins fan in his row. he was yelling at him, trying to get his attention by calling him "letang" (the jersey the pens fan was wearing), and even threw the free giveaway hat at him to try and get his attention. mr. not-letang very smartly sat still and refused to look over. I was disappointed at that behavior and also really displeased that the drunk fan's friend didn't do jack shit to stop his behavior... but that's drunk people for you, I guess!

anyways when the kraken scored the (first) empty netter I turned to jes and said we should blow this popsicle stand. and that we did lol. I regret none of it! pens you suck and I love you so dearly <3

the next day I tearfully said goodbye to my new best friend, ruthie, and then maybe waved at jes idk who cares (I'm joking, we—after very extensive fanfic brainstorming sessions in the car to and from brunch—expressed SO EARNESTLY and HEARTFELT-LY how much we enjoyed the trip, as we were both so determined to Get A Good Grade In Visiting Fandom Friends, Something Normal To Want And Possible To Achieve).

and then I got to see my aunt and uncle! they moved out there for the tech boom back in the 90s and have been there ever since. they're incredibly cool and we talked SO much

(something else I've learned about myself as an adult: I talk way too fucking much. I thought it was bad when I had an in-person job, and now that I do WFH it's literally like I'm being paid by the word I speak. big kudos to anyone who's withstood being near me for longer than an hour).

my aunt took me on a hike and we got to see old-growth forest AND a lake AND the skyline, which was so sick

talking with her was incredible. she's a very interesting person and a complete city-slicker and is... kind of eerily like me? like I saw a lot of similarities between her and I as we talked and interacted with my uncle. we have similar communication styles and I see myself a bit in her. something that's heartening to me is that she's, like... in her late 50s and childless and so youthful and full of attack attack go go go energy and has the same ruthless desire to UNDERSTAND and BE UNDERSTOOD that I do, and I liked talking with her. she's so receptive to youth culture and to aspects of things she doesn't understand in her quest to understand them, and it makes for such engaging conversation.

my uncle, too, is really neat. I like him so much, and I wish I knew more about him? my dad is so reticent about his family sometimes, and I'm still so desperately trying to tease out the full story of what growing up in that family was like (for longtime followers, this is my uncle who got written out of my grandma's will). he has great energy and is pretty chill (and was literally recovering from intense hip surgery while I was there, he's such a champ haha) and I wish I could see him and my dad interact more. why did all my dad's brothers have to scatter across this country??

he found me interesting, I could tell, and that was really validating and nice. we had awesome conversations about how I got into hockey (my aunt is super, like... 2nd-wave-y feminist and does not get my hockey love due to the sport's chauvinism) and also how I found community online. my aunt is a writer in her free time and hasn't ever really been able to find her niche online and really wanted my input about how I'd been able to befriend people across the country, and world, online.

that too was really validating and cool. I've always sort of put myself down about not having as many IRL friends, but seeing it through their eyes sort of helped me shift my mindset. I DO have amazing friends! they're close mentally if not physically! and they lead to amazing things! they were so jazzed about me hosting friends from all over the country who'd come to visit me in the name of hockey. while I get all whiny about not having enough people to do stuff with locally, my aunt was like "you have friends WHERE?" and they were so into it. they loved that I had worldwide friends and was finding connection wherever I went. it was great.

also we saw jesus at a grocery store. yes, it was halloween, but it was a funny encounter. he was in the produce section.

then we went to a WATERFALL that was TERRIFYING IN ITS SCALE

this thing was incredible and man... man... I need to go back. I have to. I always thought as a kid that I'd end up moving out west. even before my twilight phase got me fully obsessed with washington, I loved the look and nature and majesty of the PNW. since the first time I visited there, I knew something about that area spoke to me.

and it was so, so cool to reconnect with that after over a decade away. when I was there I felt like a sort of... idealized version of myself. like that version was within reach. that I could become a really cool version of myself if I lived there. an alternate path, you know?

maybe the PNW is in my future. it could be. I always thought it would be as a kid. funnily enough, a hockey team got in the way and sent me east instead, but like I always say... I don't know if pittsburgh is forever! I want to live a grand adventure, and I want to live many places, and maybe one day I wind up there for a spell.

there's just something about that part of the country. something about me when I'm there.

this was such a good vacation. it was short, but it was honestly practically idyllic. I will be back. hopefully soon. there is so much unexplored... I want to devour that state over a summer one day.

people are great. friends are great. family is great. nature is great. life is good.

[dexadin]

Hi there! I love your guides for Curse of Strahd! 💞 If it's not too much, could you give some tips for running the abbey of St. Markovia? Or really just how you dealt with the module's ableism in general, since it's a lot to tackle and I'm not sure where to begin. Thank you! 💋

Hello! Sorry this took me a while to work on, like you said, it's a lot to tackle. Curse of Strahd suffers from being both a product of its genre and a product of the typical carelessness D&D likes to serve its marginalized fans. As much as I adore the genre, (modern) gothic horror does often rely on ableist tropes to create fear and suspense in what I'd call a misguided attempt to recreate the scenarios present in the literature that formed the basis of the genre in the early 19th century. Ableism is rife in early gothic novels, in part because of the rampant ableism of the time and in part because a lot of these works were critiques of ableism written by both disabled and abled but progressive authors. Then there's just WotC, who isn't exactly known for always making good moves in their settings. Sometimes they at least realize they fucked up, like with the Hadozee (😬), but as evident with their CoS "Revamped" edition, they thought making a meager attempt to Remove the Slurs was... more or less enough work for it. Lol.

So, here's some of my notes of what I've needed to fix up and how I did it. Abbey of St. Markovia will be at the end because... yikes. Major spoilers for CoS and CW for ableism below!

Casual Ableism A.K.A. The Real Curse Of Strahd Is Mental Illness

There are questionable story beats about mental illness from really early on. Mad Mary is the first NPC I can think of that really explicitly exemplifies this, but Stella Wachter in Vallaki and Luca Barbu in Kresk both also fit the bill of being random NPCs who got painted with the ableism brush. Treating these characters with empathy I think is the best way to fix a lot of them.

In ATSBB, I chose to keep the name "Mad Mary" as a pejorative title from the other villagers, because my game includes an amount of real-world ableism that is portrayed negatively. The party heard her cries and went to her house to find a lonely woman grieving the loss of her daughter. They spent a snall fortune at the mercantile to make her a big pot of soup she could simmer for days over her stove and helped her clean up her house a bit, before giving her hours of company over dinner. Mary was kind and appreciative and treated them terribly well. They did eventually sneak upstairs to find evidence of the circumstances of her daughter's disappearance (I just turned her into a werewolf to avoid the Yikes factor there). We see that Mary is unwell because upon seeing that her beloved daughter was cursed with Lycanthropy, she did everything (even too much) to ensure her safety, and then Gertruda still got out. Mary is more than "mad," she's heartbroken. She's devastated of grief and feels like a failed mother because she couldn't protect her baby. That amount of empathy gives her more depth and makes her portrayed as not ableist, but as a victim of vilified in-world ableism because nobody will give her the time of day.

In Stella's case, I did have a hard time. I wanted the party to have a clear reason to fight Victor (I don't know how some parties make him an ally, that guy is such a tool) and I did like the idea fleshed out in MandyMod's guide of Victor trying to leave Barovia through self-taught wizardry. Instead of changing much about Stella's cat curse, I just gave it privacy. They saw Stella very, very briefly--just enough to note the condition she was in and see that interrogating her would do very little for them, and then her siblings came in to tell them Stella needed her rest and it was time for them to go. Stella was not a spectacle to them, and it was portrayed as bizarre, but ultimately a product of Victor's abuse and Fiona's neglect to fix it. The party kicked Victor's ass and made a plan to sneak Stella out and get her to the house of a particularly nurturing NPC.

Luca Barbu was a little easier for me to fix because they tried to write him with sympathy but the module still certainly isn't nice to him, and it felt really gross a lot of the time. Luca is an adult man "with the intelligence of a 3 year old" who was "hit in the head with a rock" as an explanation for it, whose father and presumably full-time carer passed away, leaving him no support. If you didn't catch on yet, yikes. My Luca Barbu is autistic and had a farming accident that gave him a head injury that causes him to have a hard time processing information quickly, particularly numbers and the passage of time, and that can make him vulnerable to manipulation because he's a good hearted guy who has a hard time discerning if people are being genuine or not. He's very smart about farming, and good with the sheep like nobody's business, but he sometimes will forget to take care of himself when nobody's around because his dad isn't around to remind him. The townsfolk are not suspicious of him at all, and only have the chance to become so inclined if the party truly fails the encounter with Ilya. In fact, in my campaign, the situation with Anna Kreskov and the broken fence can only happen because she brings him dinner and bread every night since his fathers passing so she can make sure he eats every day. Anna's betrayal is then portrayed as desperate, not malicious, and it's a lot more tragic than it is evil.

Ez d'Avenir

Weird move of CoS to make an explicitly disabled character in a blink-and-you-miss-it passage who uses the coolest prosthetic ever and then just hide it from shame (???) They did add in a passage that changes this in the errata and in the revamped, as well as fleshing out Ez a lot more in Van Richten's Guide, so I'm giving them half a pass for this, because at least they admitted and fixed how they fucked up. That said, I think it's weird to do that with someone who is apparently the only disabled person in Barovia. This can be helped by letting Ez play a more active role in your campaign, as well as by having other disabled characters. You don't need to be ablebodied to be important to the world, so why should it be in fantasy? You don't really need a reason for a character to be disabled either, because disability doesn't happen because of a Reason in the real world. Not giving Ez the burden of being the only disabled rep in Barovia lets you have more fun with her and with other NPCs.

Finally, The Abbey of St. Markovia

The Abbey is infamous in ATSBB for me having planned out my alterations in advance and still finding places in the text I missed in which I said, "Oh, god, well, we're not doing that," and had to improv in several areas. To preface this, for my campaign, I did give my players a red/yellow/green light consent list in advance in which I included "asylum horror" as one of the potential triggers, and it was greenlit by my party, so we all went in knowing that there would be some ableist medical type horror. I explained that I wanted the vibe to feel less like Arkham Asylum and more like the way people treat asylums and old hospitals on ghost hunting TV shows--with the knowledge that something is deeply, deeply wrong here, but the fault never lies with the patients. Now, a lot of my edits are additions to MandyMod's "Fleshing Out CoS" on Reddit rather than on the official text, so if you're not familiar with it, I highly reccommend you check that out and then return here.

First off, I didn't call the people here Mongrelfolk, because... who thought that was a good idea in the first place, much less one that wss good enough not to fix in Revamped?? Anyway, I simply referred to the people residing at the Abbey as "patients" and it worked just fine. Inspired by MandyMod's guide, I wanted the Abbot to be an angel who lost his way in his desperation to help people in the absence of the Morning Lord, an angel who doesn't really understand the intricacies of sustaining life in humanoids, and treats sick and injured people with the same curiosity and naivety as a child "fixing" their broken toys by sticking together parts that only kind of fit with duct tape and glue. My abbot tried to heal the people as best he could with his limited magic, without understanding the differences between people and animals, or why a person with a broken hand might not be able to return to his every day life when that hand has been replaced with a turkey's claw. He's not trying to be evil, he just doesn't realize what he's doing isn't helping, because he's distracted by his own goal of building Vasilka. Now, I know Vasilka is sort of controversial in the CoS scene, but I think the concept is So Fucking Cool. I also think that building a little Frankenstein's monster that should be able to stop Strahd from hurting people is a suitible gothic, but ultimately noble goal for the Abbott to have. Does it justify the Abbot "borrowing" pieces from people who asked him for healing? Well, no. But it certainly makes sense for an angel desperate to escape Barovia to lose his shit a little bit and use unethical means to a supposedly moral end.

I also wanted to give agency back to the patients at the Abbey. Rather than the hallway of rooms of "laughing mongrels" and "violent mongrels," I just filled the rooms with families of patients. They were trying to start their own little civilization at the Abbey, far from their old lives, that they felt they couldn't return to for a variety of reasons. Some patients were too in shock and horrified by the results of their 'surgery' to return home alone, as the Barovian mountains are dangerous. Others had sought out the Abbot because they had already lost everything they had at home. Some people needed continuous upkeep on their replacement bits, just like Vasilka does, and don't want to stray too far from the Abbey. The Belviews and Clovin exist, but more as middlemen between the Abbott and the patients, who often understandably do not with to communicate with the Abbott. The Belviews will go hunting in the local woods and bring back stew meat for everyone at the Abbey (a plot point that makes them an easy suspect in Ilya's plotline). In short, the patients aren't 'insane,' they're disabled and/or chronically ill, and were failed by the Abbott. Again, this only works if you lean into the tragic, gothic horror tilt and lean away from the more modern "freakshow" type horror that was written in the text.

I think those are the main points I really wanted to make regarding the ableism in CoS, but if there's anything glaring I missed, please feel free to add on!!

[strangerobsession]

Had fun with an incorrect quotes generator with the ST crew and my OC. Enjoy the madness.

Try it yourself!

Eddie and April

April: Is something burning? Eddie, leaning seductively on the counter: Just my desire for you. April: Eddie, the toaster is literally on fire.

. . .

Eddie, sweating: April, there's something I need to ask you- April: Finally, you're proposing! Eddie: How'd you know? April: Eddie, you've dropped the ring five times during dinner. April: I even picked it up once.

. . .

April: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this.... Eddie: *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card? April: Holy moly-

. . .

April: Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt. Eddie: Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks I don't want to hear shit.

. . .

Eddie: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy. April: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep. Eddie: I said within reason, April. How about I murder that guy? April: So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't? Eddie: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

. . .

Eddie, April, Gareth and Jeff

Jeff: I'm cold Gareth: Here, take my hoodie. *meanwhile* Eddie: I'm cold. April: I can't control the weather, Eddie.

. . .

Gareth: Do you love April? Eddie: Yeah, I do. Gareth: Jeff! I told you I knew it! You owe me 100 bucks! Jeff: We all love April. You should've asked if he was IN love with her. Eddie: I thought that was implied. Jeff: ... Gareth: ... Eddie, looking straight at Jeff: Congrats Gareth, you just won 100 bucks.

. . .

Eddie: ARE YOU- Jeff: Fucking. Eddie: KIDDING ME?! YOU- Jeff: Fucking. Eddie: IDIOT! Gareth: ...What was that? Jeff: April banned Eddie from swearing, so I'm helping him out.

. . .

April: I love you. Eddie: I love you too. I've waited so long to hear you say that. *April and Eddie kiss passionately* Jeff, to Gareth: You owe me 20 dollars.

. . .

*Everyone is playing a board game together* Eddie: I will put 'A' down to make 'A'. Gareth: I will add onto your 'A' to make 'AT'. Jeff: I will add onto your 'AT' to make 'RAT'. April: I will add onto your 'RAT' to make 'BIOSTRATAGRAPHIC'. Jeff: *flips the board*

. . .

Eddie, April, Steve, Nancy and Robin

Steve: You're a lying piece of shit! Eddie: Oh yeah! You're the idiot that thinks you can get away with everything you do, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD! Nancy: I'm leaving and I'm taking Robin with me! April, gathering cards: Aaaaand that's enough Monopoly for today.

. . .

Nancy: Guys... the principal just called- Robin: It was April! April: It was Steve! Steve: It was Eddie! Eddie: It was me!

. . .

April: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast? Steve: Several traffic violations. Robin: Three counts of resisting arrest. Nancy: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks. Eddie: Also, that's not our car.

. . .

Eddie: April's first detention, I'm so proud. Steve: Woad, back up. Why did she get detention? Nancy: Because she's an idiot. Robin, terrified: She can do that??

. . .

Robin: Poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses. April: This knife is actually a magic wand. Eddie: Meet me in the Denny's parking lot for a wizard duel. Nancy: *cocks gun* Magic missile. Steve: What the fuck is wrong with you people.

. . .

April, Eddie, Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Erica

Dustin: Just be yourself! Eddie: Really? Dustin, I have one day to win over April's parents. Eddie: How long did it take for you guys to like me? Mike: Couple of weeks. Lucas: Six months. Erica: Jury's still out. Eddie: See Dustin! 'Just be yourself' what kind of garbage advice is that?!

. . .

April: Eddie is too tall for me to kiss him on the lips. What should I do? Dustin: Punch him in the stomach. Then, when he doubles over in pain, kiss him. Lucas: Tackle him! Erica: Dump him. Mike: Kick him in the shin! Eddie: No to all of those! Just ask me to lean down!!

. . .

*after the Squad has been separated for a few years* Dustin: So, what have you been up to lately? Eddie: Leading a revolution with April. Dustin: Good for you! Me, I've joined the mob. Eddie: *nods* Oh, how cool! That's awesome! Dustin: I know! Anyway, have you heard from the others? Lucas? Eddie: Happily living as a hermit in the woods. Mike? Dustin: Wrongfully locked up in an asylum, which reminds me, we need to break them out later. Erica? Eddie: Cult leader. Dustin: Yeah, that sounds about right.

. . .

Erica: Dumbest scar stories, go! Dustin: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. April: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and it burned. Lucas: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Mike: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it in my hand and I got a really bad burn. Eddie: I have emotional scars.

. . .

April: Bye Eddie! Bye Erica! Bye Mike! Buy Dustin! Bye Eddie! Lucas: You said 'bye Eddie' twice. April: I like Eddie.

[siena-sevenwits]

@captaingondor, your TSE Secret Santa is done a little later and is a little less polished than I was planning, but I hope it gives you a smile! Merry Christmas, and don't let the weavers shred you to pulled pork.

PROMPT: Marcus and Enel on Christmas morning

“… For - for Bradley Hand’s sake, Enel! What are you even doing here? You – you just put that candle up to the clock right this minute, and tell me what time it is!”

“Four-ish.”

“God himself isn’t up at this hour!”

“But Marcus, I thought you didn’t believe in God.”

“That’s complicated. And doesn’t impact my statement. And really isn’t that important compared to the fact that you just woke me up at four in the morning. Mrs. St. Claire would be having a fit if she found you missing this early! What are you even doing in the library at this hour?”

“Well. What are you doing in the library this hour?”

“That’s a tu quoque fallacy. I’m not awake enough for this kind of thing.”

“Well, you’re awake enough to speak Greek, seems like.”

“Latin.”

“And besides, you hadn’t even gone to bed. Or home. You were just slumped in that armchair. I figured, fair game. If he wants to go to actual bed, I’m doing him a favour. And if he wants to have hot chocolate, great.”

“How did you even know I was – what? Hot chocolate? What hot chocolate?”

“I just… every Christmas morning I have to go unwrap presents with Avidan at the Capitol, and there’s church, where Velvare makes Avidan ask me to come sit with them, and then there’s a toooooon of speeches and presentations back at the Capitol, and then Velvare sits and just watches us eat Christmas dinner and it’s really awkward, and then a bunch of dancing and stuff and just. There’s never any time for me to go back to the orphanage. Or here. And I always thought Christmas at the library would be cool. You told me about drinking fancy coffee by the fireplace last year. And I don’t have any fancy coffee, but Idony’s got loads, and she doesn’t mind if we take some at Christmas. So I snuck in, and I thought I’d make a pot of it before you woke up so you could have it ready. And then I saw you were actually here.”

“Enel.”

“I’m – I’m sorry. Marcus?”

“No. Don’t be. I’m only rather surprised.”

“You okay?”

“Hm. And you didn’t catch anything on fire, or make a big mess out of the sitting area by the fireplace?”

“… I, ah, didn’t catch anything on fire. Are you mad?”

“I just need a moment. Enel, you’re... not a bad kid. Let’s go have some hot chocolate.”

“Merry Christmas?”

“Merry Christmas."

[dreamwatch]

The following diatribe was triggered by this wonderful analysis by @inklessletter I didn’t know if adding this to the bottom of a reblog was ok (honestly Tumblr really fucks with my brain, and I still get confused about the etiquette, but I have reblogged the post as well because I think it’s awesome).

Not only is this a great analysis, it’s the kind of thing I wish I’d see more of, I love seeing people dissect the show and the characters. It makes me so excited when people really discuss ST in this way and not just ‘my ship is better than your ship’. Bravo, OP. It feels like old school fandom stuff in the late 90/early noughties. It makes me feel young again! Now, on to my diatribe!

I’m a little worried about Steve in S5. Given how we know Nancy does not want to end up like her mother (her discussion with Jonathan in S1 when they’re practicing shooting a gun) there’s no way she should be ending up with Steve. So there’s no romantic end game for Steve in the show, and I always think that’s a bit worrying, BUT there is Dustin, and we could argue it would be weak as fuck to kill both his mentor/big brother characters. I think at the very least The Duffers will tease us with terror and put Steve in harms way, but ultimately my hope is that they will want to go out on a somewhat happy ending and let Dustin (and us) keep the worlds best babysitter.

It still drives me mad that they killed Eddie. It was so signposted from the beginning that every time something was said about running away I groaned out loud. It was so obvious that I genuinely thought they wouldn’t do it. They said Eddie’s arc was over and that there was no way they could have brought him back, which is bullshit (sorry, Steve). I’ve read must be close to a thousand fix it’s now and so many of them had brilliant, creative and most importantly, believable ways to save Eddie. They just didn’t want to, and maybe didn’t see his story as something they wanted to touch on in S5, and that’s fair, but given the kids are starting to look college age now there’s no way we can pick up from 1987, so that’s all story that could have taken place off screen. And even if they didn’t want to do any of that - 2 days later!? Really!? You’re going to do that to us? We got Dustin and Wayne (an amazing scene) but that was it. And “oh god, you don’t know” - El saved Max, she was literally there, how did they not know she was at deaths door!? Sorry, I need to calm down, this gets to me all the time.

If they want blood I think they might off a mid tier character, and my money would be on Karen Wheeler (maybe Vicky if she comes back). If they go further up the chain, Robin, Jonathan, Max, or El would be where my mind goes. Making some heroic sacrifice rather than just succumbing to Vecna.

Despite everything they did to Eddie, despite what they did to us as an audience, I am so hyped for S5, you better believe I’m booking the day off for it!

Thoughts? Opinions? Please share! Also, can anyone help with the tumblr etiquette thing? My brain is still back in 2003 on vbulletin boards, simpler times!