#maybe there was wording or nuance i missed in the options but it truly felt like a glass him situation

[darkjusticiar]

Also one thing I didn't realize when Astarion is about to ascend is that you have to go into his mind and reach out to him to get him to stop- just saying "no, i refuse to help you do this" gets you the ending where he... well, leaves your team permanently and says that he hopes you die screaming. Maybe that changed since the time I played it but it's a massive wake up moment I feel. That at the end of the day you have to be soooo careful about how you present your refusal because he is not willing to hear it. No matter how "nice" he may become, no matter how close you two have become, he cannot handle the rejection outright. The 7,000 spawn are just collateral to him regardless.

[slasherhaven]

Bo Sinclair X Reader

Part 1 HERE

People wanted a part 2, so here you go!

Soulmate AU: shared pain and shared scars part 2:

What had started with you and some friends trying to get a fan belt for their car and maybe some mild flirting with the man who owned the garage, had all ended in hell breaking loose. Bo had been charming and helpful, you had felt an instant connection to him, the type of connection that soulmates so often talked about.

At first you had been disappointed that he didn't seem to recognise your scars, proving he wasn't your soulmate, but now you were thankful for it. At least you weren't cosmically tied to the man who had just turned and attacked your friends.

He had shot Wade and Carly had disappeared. You had been dragged to a basement beneath the garage and left there, him promising to deal with the rest of the group you came with before returning.

Out of the people you came on the road trip, you only really knew Carly. She was the only one you would truly have to mourn but seeing Wade shot like that and knowing the others were next was undeniably traumatic.

Left alone in the basement, you tried to find a way out but there was only a heavy locked door between you and your freedom. When trying to open it failed, you settled for banging on it and shouting for help. You hoped that some other of Carly's friends would come looking for the three of you when you were gone for so long, maybe they would hear you and you could get out of here.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed, hands becoming bloodied from repeatedly hitting the door, throat becoming sore from shouting. But you were finally interrupted by the sound of a car approaching. You stopped and stepped away from the door, looking up at the ceiling as the car came to a stop.

God, you hoped it was somebody from the camp...

You began to panic as you heard feet descending the stairs outside of the locked door, moving yourself further away from it. You heard the lock clicking before the door was pushed open, Bo stepping into the dimly lit basement.

"Stop banging on the fucking door" Bo snapped, clearly frustrated despite likely not having heard it if he was out in his truck...

You didn't respond but he moved closer and you noticed that he had left the door open. At this point, you had run out of options and had to take every opportunity that presented itself.

You suddenly darted towards the door, trying to pass him, but it was fruitless. Bo quickly caught you, grabbing you by the arms and standing in front of you to further block your path. You thrashed and fought against him but it was no use.

"The others?..." you asked, dread clear in your voice.

"My brother is dealing with them" Bo informed you, like it was nothing.

"...are you going to hurt me?" you were already sure of the answer, you just didn't know what he wanted from you. Why had he left you in the basement rather than just disposing of you like he had done the others.

"No. That would be, quite literally, self destructive" he chuckled darkly. He was too calm, you just knew what he had done to your friends...he had done before.

"What?" you didn't understand his comment.

Bo grabbed your wrist, his bloody hand wrapped completely around the scarring on your wrist, almost like it was instinctual. As he released your other arm, you tried to pull your hand away but his grip was too tight. With his free hand, he pulled up the sleeve his coveralls, revealing scarring that was identical to yours.

You stared at the twisted skin, processing what this meant. You had been right from the beginning when you first saw him, this was your soulmate.

"No...no" you shook your head, trying harder to pull your wrist out of his grasp. You just kept repeated the word 'no' as tears streamed from your eyes. How could you soulmate be somebody who did such awful things.

"Shhh, it's alright" Bo cooed, almost ironically. He continued to shush you as he pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

Your brain told you that you should be a far away from him as possible, to kick and scream, but his embrace was strange comforting. Of course it was, you were fated to find comfort in his arms. Destined to meet him and love him. The universe wanted you both together, it was meant to be.

Maybe that was why your body began to relax as you cried into his chest, clutching at his coveralls. You hated him, you wanted to hate him, you needed to hate him. Yet, you were destined not too.

Bo kept you held against his chest and you couldn't even find it within yourself to pull away, finding comfort in the source of your pain.

Slowly, the sinking realisation settled. If you were Bo's soulmate, there was no way he was letting you leave. He had already made sure that there was nobody left to tell anyone where you were. If anyone eventually worried about your group going missing, they would assume you all ran off somewhere or eventually decide that you were the next mysterious case of missing people. It was unlikely anyone would track you down to a random, deserted, little town.

"You're home now" Bo whispered into your hair.

You sobbed at the realisation, and yet you clung tighter to him. He just held you tighter.

Bo smirked to himself as he ran a hand over your hair, only to have you shift closer to him. He knew that you hated him but he was confident that would change over time. Just from the way you were acting now, he knew he could win you over, and he knew you wouldn't be leaving him.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up" you didn't respond as he pulled away, grasping your arm before guiding you out of the basement.

He kept hold of your arm as he walked you through Ambrose, towards the house he had taken you too earlier that day. As you were walking along the road, a familiar truck pulled up beside you both, bringing you to a halt.

Lester, the man who had brought you into Ambrose in the first place, hopped out of the truck.

"Everything's cleaned up" he informed Bo before looking at you and grinning. "they're your soulmate?" Bo just nodded, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side. "It must be your lucky day" Lester teased his brother, who only rolled his eyes. You frowned a little. Meeting your soulmate was meant to be a good, a lucky, day...unfortunately this had also been one of the worst days of your life.

"Go see how Vincent is doing, alright?" Bo asked, sending his younger brother away.

Lester just rolled his eyes before climbing back into his truck. He had wanted to stick around and get to know his brother's soulmate a bit more, but he understood that you were probably shaken.

Finally, you and Bo returned to his house and he led you into the kitchen, where he sat you down in a chair. You stayed silent, processing, as he washed his hands in the sink, washing the blood away.

Once his hands were clean, he wet a cloth and returned to you, pulling a chair out opposite you before sitting down.

He grasped your hands and you allowed him too, letting him pull them into his lap as he began to wipe away the blood.

"You're in shock and you're angry but you'll come around" Bo sounded sure about that but you supposed he had every right to be, you were his soulmate after all. You had to come around. "You know I can't hurt you, or let anyone else hurt you, right?" he asked and you just nodded. Of course he can't hurt you, it would only be hurting himself. Literally. At least you had that peace of mind.

You watched as he cleaned your hands, it was almost tender. A complete contrast to the cruelty he had treated the rest of your group with.

"Why did you do all this?" you asked quietly when it fell silent.

"I'll explain everything later" Bo promised, knowing he had a lot to explain and that he had to tell you everything. You would find out one way or another.

You just nodded, hanging your head. "Hey, c'mon now, the worst is over" he reassured you, lifting a hand to wipe a tear from under your eye with his thumb. "I know this probably ain't how you expected to meet your soulmate but you're gonna be just fine, darlin'" he did sound genuinely sympathetic, at least to some extent.

Removing his hand from your face, Bo stood from his chair, going to drop the now bloodied rag into the sink.

You weren't sure what came over you but you quickly grabbed his hand, stilling him. You just felt safer, the closer he was. A instinctual part of you wanted him to remain close, as if it didn't understand the nuance of the situation. He seemed a little surprised but turned to you expectantly.

"How did you get those scars?" you asked. Something you had wondered all your life.

"You still feel bad for me?" Bo asked, almost sarcastically, like he couldn't imagine you having any sympathy for him anymore.

"You were a child...I would never blame you for that" you shook your head.

"...I'll tell you later, okay? When you actually want to talk to me" Bo promised. You opened your mouth but quickly shut it again, knowing he was right. How could you talk to him about something like that after what he just did? You shouldn't have even asked.

You reluctantly released his hand, letting him dispose of the cloth.

You didn't want to admit it but you knew that eventually you would want to talk to him, that your fated connection would become much stronger than your determination to hate him for the horrible things he has done. There would come a day when you simply...didn't care anymore, and you would want him by your side despite it all.

[liquorisce]

... tell me i’m beautiful?

pairing: royai, roy mustang x riza hawkeye

fandom: Full Metal Alchemist (Brotherhood/Manga)

summary: on some nights Riza is delicate. and Roy is possessive. (warning: unhealthy amounts of pining.) (also havoc is a good friend) 3677 words.

a/n: i saw on my tumblr feed that it’s fma day (3.10) (the day when the greatest angst of our generation was born), and i was hit with major feels for full metal alchemist. it truly is one of the greatest stories of our generation. anyway, here is some old royai from my wip notes that i had to dust the cobwebs off of (that my anxious ass never had the balls to post). my writing style has changed over the years, but my heart is still so full for these two, so it was fun to rewrite.

The buzz around the Eastern Headquarters is that one of the Top ranks is getting hitched and that it’s going to be a fancy affair, traditional with a masquerade ball.

When Roy sees an invite in his post, he’s rather surprised. But the wedding is in Central and it’s an excuse to see his best friend, so it doesn’t seem so bad after all.

“Lieutenant,” he asks, just as she is about to leave for the day, “what’s all this I hear about a ball at the General’s wedding?”

“It seems we must be accompanied with a date, Sir. You received the invitation four weeks ago.” He detects some annoyance in her words, but he lets it pass, because his brain has begun to imagine Hawkeye in a dress, especially one of those grand, frilly ones.

“Then you will accompany me.”

It was acceptable, the way he states it like it’s the obvious course of action, because he is her superior after all. But it also ticks her off, that he expects it, without even bothering to ask. She may be his subordinate but there are times when she wishes he would just see her as a woman.

“That won’t be possible, Sir.”

She is just as shocked with her own coldness as he is, his eyebrows twitching in question.

“I’m afraid I’ve already promised Havoc I would go as his date.”

His eyes narrow and she sees a flicker of emotion awash in the dark of his eyes and she almost feels as if she’s done something wrong.

But she hasn’t, and she will not apologise. She clenches her fist. 

“Ah,” he drawls, not missing a beat, “have you decided what to wear yet?”

That wasn’t the question she was expecting and it throws her off balance.

“I,” she pauses for a moment, to regain her composure, “I haven’t thought about it yet.”

She doesn’t want to engage in his banter anymore, because there are feelings involved - mostly hers, and they are irrational, she thinks - and expectations, expectations that have no basis but are yet difficult to do away with. So she hastens to the door.

He’s quiet for a minute, but because he can’t help himself, he murmurs, “… You should wear green. It suits you." 

… 

She ends up wearing a dress, it’s slinky, tighter than the clothes she’s used to, slipping past her knees. Somehow she finds herself in heels, black strapped ones she’s borrowed from a friend that she clearly cannot walk in. It lacks the comfort of her boots but she deals with it, because apparently this is the price that comes along with looking pretty. 

The dress is borrowed too, but she doesn’t miss the fact that out of all the dresses Rebecca paraded as options, she reached for the dark green one. … Apparently it suited her. 

At least that is what she is assured of when Havoc comes to pick her up, his eyes popping in surprise when he sees her. 

"Wow,” he let’s out a loose whistle, “you clean up real good, don’t you?" 

She blushes and it’s another rare sight. "The Hawkeye blushing?” He teases, “I’ve got to be dreaming." 

They make their way to the wedding and Havoc dives headfirst to the bar. She isn’t surprised. She looks around, her eyes seeking whom she had stubbornly decided not to care about and she sees him with a woman - obviously - hanging onto his every word. 

An officer of sorts, she guesses, but not from their division, because Roy has unleashed his charm, his eyes twinkling flirtatiously. 

She averts her eyes to the bar and to her date, who despite his melancholy has ordered an extra drink for her, a cocktail which he swears is the best he’s ever had. The thought of alcohol seems far more appealing than watching her superior with yet another woman.

… 

"Did you want to dance, Lieutenant?" 

She’s a few drinks down, he’s had even more and his words are beginning to slur. 

"I’m sorry,” he says and he sounds genuinely remorseful. “I just… I can’t get her out of my head." 

She pats his head comfortingly and he slumps a little on the counter. "You loved her that much?" 

He nods gloomily and Riza pretends to ignore the glisten of his eyes. Havoc’s eyes rest on the newly married couple, a little envious of the ingenuity of their smiles. 

"You know, I actually thought we would make it there." 

He doesn’t have to say it but Riza knows he’s talking about the altar, of dreams of marriage that he harboured for his ex-girlfriend. He was painful to watch these past few weeks, ever since Rebecca ended things with him, and when he asked her to the wedding, she couldn’t help but agree. 

Besides, she had made sure Roy had seen the invitation days ago and if he hadn’t asked her by then, it was quite likely he never would. 

"I’m sure you’ll find someone else,” she says comfortingly. “Even we soldiers are allowed to be happy eventually.” She isn’t sure she believes it, but for someone as pure as Havoc, surely fate can be kinder.

He tries his best to put on a smile, nodding with the optimism in her words. “Well hopefully I find happiness before my hair turns grey,” he jokes, making her giggle. 

It feels nice, letting her hair down with a friend, even though she would rather let her hair and a lot of other things down with a certain someone else, but she tries not to think of it. 

When she turns, the smile is wiped clean off her face, because her gaze catches the eyes of that same someone else, eyes dark as night, hair even darker, swept back to show off the handsome angles of his face. He is with someone else, a pretty brunette with her back bare and his hand splayed on it, and they are moving to the music but his eyes are on her, intense, questioning… reprimanding her almost. 

For what? She thinks heatedly, he has no right to look at her like that, like he’s displeased with her, when she cannot even express just how unhappy she is with him. 

“But seriously, Lieutenant,” Havoc says, hesitating for a moment, but choosing honesty, “you look amazing tonight. I must be the envy of every man in here." 

She lets herself bask in his appreciative gaze and her cheeks heat up. "You really think so?" 

He nods, smiling at her. "You sound surprised. A woman like you must be used to such compliments, isn’t it?”

She laughs ruefully. Compliments? She couldn’t remember the last time a man had ever called her pretty. At least not since she entered the military. “You’re the first, Havoc." 

His mouth almost gaped open in surprise. 

She went on, her frustration further driven by the alcohol in her blood. "No one’s ever even asked me out,” she says, helplessly. “Sure, there had been a few men who seemed interested, but even they never tried to take things further." 

The Lieutenant didn’t date, everyone knew that. But listening to her open up about it, doubting herself, he felt for her. 

Because he was one of those men too, a long, long time ago. 

He remembers when he first joined the unit, newly assigned to Eastern, full of smiles. 

The place really was swarming with beautiful women, just as he had heard. He figured he would get on here just fine. 

And when he first entered the office of the Major Roy Mustang whom he was assigned to, he thought his heart was going to stop. 

He had never seen anyone like her, young, strong, leaning over the table and giving the Major a piece of her mind. She scolded him like she had the authority to, and he listened, even though there was a formal apology attached to her rant in the end. 

He was stunned, unable to do anything but watch when she turned around and stalked out of the room, because the view from the front was even better than behind, a round heart-shaped face framed in short blonde hair, deep brown eyes and a body that would make anyone’s thoughts stain the darkest shade of impurity. 

Life, of course, had very different plans for them, even though they got closer, just like he wished. One afternoon, Rebecca walked into the office and threw her arms around Riza, and Havoc soon learnt that love was far more nuanced than admiration at first sight.

"At first I thought it was the uniform,” she confesses, “I thought maybe I was just scaring the men away." 

You have no idea, he thinks, sighing. Riza Hawkeye was made of fire, and it turned men on even if they were afraid of being burnt by it.

"But my friend Jessica had absolutely no problem when it came to this sort of thing." 

She casts her eyes lower, twirling the remnants of her whiskey. "Maybe there’s just something wrong with me." 

Her lips lift up in a sardonic grin. "I’m a pretty pathetic Lieutenant, huh?” She rests her forehead against the counter. “I can’t believe I’m here at a wedding, crying over men.” Sighing, she murmurs, “I suppose these feelings are par for course when you have couples dancing all around you." 

He rests his hand over the back of her head, ruffling the softness of her locks. "It isn’t pathetic,” he murmurs comfortingly, “You’re only human, after all. We’re all just idiots who want nothing more than to be loved." 

He leaves out the part where he willingly offers himself up for the job, spurred a little by his already broken heart and embers of a decade-old attraction that never went away. He could make her feel special, take her out on all the dates she feels she missed out on, tell her she’s beautiful till she never doubts it ever again. It would be a selfish distraction, but Havoc is a romantic, and maybe, just maybe, it would lead them down a different path to happiness.

But he remembers what made him give up that mission in the first place, all those years ago, cold, blazing eyes that delivered a threat far worse than his words. 

"There will be no fraternisation within this unit,” he had stated calmly before even Havoc had gotten a chance to admit to it himself. “If I find out you’ve laid a hand on her, I will have you transferred out of Eastern before you know it." 

Back then he didn’t know if Major Roy Mustang even had that sort of power. But something else told him that if he didn’t listen it would be his burnt corpse they would be carrying out of Eastern. 

Even now Havoc knows it’s useless, that he cannot even comfort her the way he really wants to, because he knows his eyes are here, they don’t leave her, always watching from the corner, staking claim. 

"Thanks Havoc,” she says, trying for warm but still sounding miserable, lacing her fingers with his for a brief second in appreciation of his effort to make her feel better.

He sighs. “Would you mind if I went outside for a smoke?” They didn’t allow smoking in the ballroom, and his cravings had kicked in three drinks ago. 

“Sure,” she says, “I’ll come with you." 

He looks surprised because the Lieutenant has never approved of his smoking, but he thinks maybe she would prefer it to her own company tonight. 

But when she tries to stand it’s like the blood has drained from her head, and she falters. Gingerly, she rubs a hand to her forehead.

"On second thought, I think I’ll stay here.” She gets back onto her seat, “I’ve had too much to drink." 

"Will you be alright?” He asks, and it is more out of courtesy than anything else because he knows that if she isn’t, he will be by her side in seconds to take care of her. 

She assures him she’s fine, that a drink of water will make everything better, even though fine is far from what she feels. Having let out her feelings, she doesn’t feel the light headedness that most claim, just empty and dejected because it is more than just never being told she’s pretty or going out on dates. If only her sorrows were as commonplace as wishing for love. If only she didn’t desire a very specific love. A love she will never have. 

“Excuse me,” she mumbles to the waiter,“ could I have a glass of water please?" 

He hurries away to get it and she rests her head against the counter. As she closes her eyes, she wonders how they do it, all those women he talks to, all the willing females he engages with. Is it all the giggling? 

Does Roy like it if his women show a lot of skin? She remembers the woman from earlier, pale pink fabric shimmering off her dainty frame. Or maybe he likes the petite ones. 

She sighs dejectedly. At 5'5”, she had curves that filled out every inch of her uniform and a full chest that had been a major cause of discomfort during military school. She was anything but petite. 

In the end what bothers her most is that it probably doesn’t matter if she isn’t skinny or she doesn’t wear clothes that dip to the small of her back. Military rules state they couldn’t be together and it seems Roy wasn’t the least bit tempted to break them. 

.. 

“I’m afraid all the dancing has made my head spin,” he tells her. “It was really lovely to have the pleasure of your company…” He pauses at the end, awkward because he just spent the last 40 minutes dancing her in circles but he can’t, for the love of God, remember her name. 

“It’s Elizabeth,” she purrs, laughing, “You’re just like the rumours say, Colonel! So terrible with names." 

She comes closer, her breath damp on the shell of his ear, "And so incredibly handsome." 

"I’m flattered,” he says, untangling himself from her, smiling the way he knows is probably misleading, but in this situation it’s polite. 

He can’t quite explain it but he is struck by this inexplicable urge to see his own Elizabeth, a sharp contrast to this one’s dark hair and light eyes, her beauty stemming from self-respect that is sorely lacking in most of the women that threw themselves at him.

He can’t pretend that he’s a saint and that there haven’t been a few that have followed him into bed, but there is nothing more than frustration at play here, a compromise of sorts where he can make believe that the girl in front of him is one with pale hair that shimmers and eyes that would always show him the light. 

Where he can dream that the lips he kisses are the same bow shaped ones that admonish him at work.  

Looking over at the bar counter, he sees that she’s still there, this time with Havoc nowhere to be seen. There’s a small, selfish part of him that rejoices in this fact, because their intimacy and hand-holding had him seeing red a little while ago. 

It isn’t fair that he wants her like this, so irrationally and so selfishly, he knows it, but he can’t stop himself from this desire and he knows it often scares men away from her.

He knows there have been times when he has deliberately scared men off of her. He wonders how she would react if she learns of it. Would she have preferred their affections?

When he comes closer he sees that her head is resting on the counter, eyes closed. “Lieutenant,” he calls, but she doesn’t stir. Roy is known to be a little paranoid when it comes to his aide and the tension creeps onto his face, furrowing it’s way between his eyebrows. 

He tries calling her again, this time placing his hand on her shoulder and shaking her gently. Her head turns to the side and he can see that her mouth is parted slightly and her breaths are even. 

Has she… Passed out?! Laughing to himself, he occupies the seat beside her, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes and tucks it behind her ear. He could happily stay like this forever, wrapped up in the softness of her hair and skin, watching her without interruption as she sleeps. There’s a mole just under her ear, a tiny black little thing and he wonders if he could reach down and kiss it. It would be quick, no one would ever know it. 

He could press his lips to her skin, touch his tongue to her earlobe, take it between his teeth maybe, the way he’s always wanted to when they are alone in his office and he is tempted to misuse his rank. 

He gives in to this sweet compulsion and bends down, lips pressing ever so lightly against the mark. 

She smells sweet, of the lavender she’s been partial to ever since she was a teenager, wrapped in this very same fragrance when she would finish her shower. 

Roy knows this because every time she would be anywhere nearby his attention as an apprentice would falter, often earning him rebukes from her father. 

He had promised himself just one, but it’s a promise ill-kept because his lips inch further along her jawline, featherlight brushes of temptation going against everything he has worked for. 

But what good is his ambition when all it brings him is turmoil, and this cruel deprivation of her? When all he feels every day when he looks at her is longing, immense and painful, to the point of desperation. 

Reason loses it’s shine further when he can feel her pulse flutter, and the softest murmur of his name brushes his ear. 

“Roy,” she mumbles and it’s so maddening, the effect his name on her lips has, he considers giving her orders to never address him Colonel ever again, “I wore green. Just like you told me to.”

His eyes widen, remembering the day he’d asked her to accompany him. She had this look in her eyes, disappointment, frustration - or was it disgust - and he dared to hope she’d go with it anyway, but she didn’t. And the feeling of rejection, of being rejected by Riza, isn’t one he can shake so easily. 

“What?” She had asked confused, when the statement he hadn’t intended to say out loud - he liked her in green, and that was something he kept secret, it brought out her eyes - had clearly been heard. “It suits you,” he’d said simply, and her temper had flared. Narrowing her eyes, she had said, “What I choose to wear is none of your business, Sir." 

She’d emphasized the last word with as much sarcasm as one could possibly fit into one syllable. 

He had laughed that day… a frustrated laugh, but now seeing that she actually listened to him, he thinks maybe what he thought mattered much more than what she let on. 

"I even wore heels,” she whispers, still drunk, slurring the s’s. 

“You did,” he says slowly, because he noticed, just like he notices everything, the way it made her legs look endless, the way it made her hips sway when she walked in with Havoc. He runs an idle finger across her cheek. 

“Do I look pretty, Colonel?" 

When she speaks these words, he hears the uncertainty behind the pink lips that she licks, barely inches from his. 

He could tell her that yes, she’s pretty, but he’d rather show her. With kisses sweeping all over her body, and caresses earning soft sighs from her full mouth. 

He could. 

And he almost does. 

He almost kisses her, full on the mouth, tongue flicking across hers, telling her that pretty is an understatement and that the first time he saw her, he was already mesmerised. 

But he is mindful of their surroundings, not wanting to cause her any further disrespect by acting out the increasingly lewd fantasies churning in his mind. Because he doubts a kiss would stay just that, a kiss and nothing more, not when it is Riza underneath him, lips pliant and sweet, testing his restraint. 

"Havoc,” he says harshly when he comes to realise the looming figure behind him, keeping his distance but well within hearing radius. “Take her home." 

He’s surprised at first, because he was sure he had witnessed something deeper, more intimate between those two tonight. Havoc had seen the Colonel flush, and stroke her skin tenderly, the Lieutenant’s eyes dazed and gazing at him with blatant desire. 

"Sir, sh-shouldn’t you?” He stutters, clearly asking something inappropriate and out of turn but he can’t help it. There is no one in the entire hall who could have missed the palpable chemistry between the two of them. 

But he doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head, his eyes dark and stormy, and tells him to make sure she has a glass of water before she’s put to bed. 

When Havoc walks her out, one hand around her waist and the other firmly holding her arm around his shoulder he realises that he’s a bit irritated with this years-old game of hide-and-seek. His broken heart was urging him to slap some sense into the Colonel and yell, because people who’ve found love - the real kind - have no business denying it. 

“I think it should be fairly clear by now why you so rarely get propositioned by men,” he says dryly. 

She makes a noise, questioning, barely able to take in his sarcasm or even his words for that matter, as her eyes droop shut. 

He takes in the rare sight of a defenseless Hawkeye clinging to his arm and his mouth turns up with the hint of a smile. 

“… It isn’t that no one’s interested,” he whispers, “just that everybody knows they wouldn’t stand a chance. Not against him.” 

- fin - 

[aotopmha]

Attack on Titan Chapter 122 Thoughts

This chapter is pretty straight-forward in comparison to the previous ones, but in a deceptive way, where a lot of moments have a bunch of nuance, when they at first glance don't seem to.

Most of the chapter is very thoroughly "show, don't tell", which I can see getting people confused and leave them asking questions, but the key to this is context.

When taking this chapter as more stand-alonish, I feel like it would 100% feel much more obtuse and confusing, but almost every panel calls back to something and the story simply asks you to put the story together based on this. I feel it still definitely leaves some stuff up for potentially varying interpretation, but much less so.

Here's my take on it.

Firstly, the only voice in the whole Ymir flashback is that of King Fritz. Everyone else is silent.

There is much talk about how AoT is this morally gray series and there are certainly many morally gray elements here, but in truth, I'd phrase this idea more in the sense of the story having really well fleshed out antagonists.

It emphasizes humanizing every character, including all those that are presented as shitty people, in a specific way of giving them at least one quality that's if not sympathetic, then at least understandable from the characters' perspectives (this is something Isayama has actually straight-up mentioned to aim to do in interview material).  

Karina is a horrible mother to Reiner, but she is a product of her environment and has never gotten to see outside of the world she lives in.

Alma treats Historia horribly, but her life is in danger because of a powerful man and the society she lives in.

Floch started out as a tactless asshole and has only grown worse, but there are understandable points in what he is saying during various moments in the story.

Gross is straight-up a candidate for the most hateable character in the series, but there is a spelled out, concrete perspective to his evil you kind of understand in a twisted way that also stems from the system he's living under, which often makes for my favorite type of antagonist.

I point this out because I think the first King Fritz is the most straight-forwardly villainous character in the series so far and I think that's fine.

The truth is, sometimes there isn't a "both sides". Sometimes there is a good and evil and in this case, Isayama opted for a powerful man that exploits the weak to further gain power for the evil, which is still a very real evil, but, as said, also pretty straight-forward.

He doesn't develop in any way - he's an abuser to begin with and in a position of power to begin with.

The only sliver of nuance to him is that he's a smart opportunist: he's a powerful man who knows to take advantage of the position he's in to gain even more power.  

You could argue this also comments on power abuse and how a priviledged position and availability of the means to take advantage of others encourages to do so and gain even more power. People are more likely to use a gun when they are given access to it than when not.

But even then, as he says to keep passing down the spines of the Titans, due it being at the cost of the daughters he had with Ymir, whom he already saw as a tool to be used, he most likely doesn't even do it for the good of his people, but his own self-serving desire to preserve his position of power and influence and that way remain important and influental even after his death.

He's more interesting as a vehicle for exploring the social situation he creates than as a individual character.

Him being the only one to talk is thus another neat example of the story making a narrative point through meta elements. Abusers silence and take away people's voices through fear and conditioning and this is exactly what he does and therefore is the only one talking.

In this case, it's even literal, as we see a slave having their tongue cut out. We don't ever see this happen to Ymir, but it's an easy assumption to make that she might've had her tongue cut out, as well, based on what we see done with the other slave.

Regardless of any physical element, though, Ymir simply doesn't go against King Fritz because she doesn't understand she can do so. Her chains are entirely emotional. She seems to have been a slave for most of her life, never getting to see any other perspective regarding herself, so because of the conditioning and indoctrination stemmed from her position as a slave, she believes serving him is her purpose in life:

It's how she is lead to percieve herself that keeps her a slave.

This is interesting to me because this seems to reflect Armin's initial character resolve. The only reason he didn't believe in himself was because of his own, negative, perception of himself. It's through an alternative perspective given through Eren and Mikasa he grew to see himself in a different light. His arc is one of the first arcs in the story that involves a character gaining nuance in their perspective (technically Mikasa has a moment like this before him, but I think Armin's arc fits the comparison better because it very specifically relates to his self-image):

(Chapter 11)

This later also evolves into the Marleyan Eldians' single-mindedness and unawareness of playing into a corrupt system. Neither Ymir nor them simply never get an opportunity to see the world differently/in a more complex light.

In the case of a more typical damsel, the rescue would have had a much more straight-forward and simplistic explanation and through that in my eyes would have been much less interesting and I really appreciate whenever a story understands abuse like this.

Related to this, Eren's speech in this chapter probably makes it one of my favorites.

There are some uncertain connotations to it, as Ymir truly probably is in no good emotional position to make her own decision and Eren ultimately gives her two very specific options to choose from, but I think his words are genuine and the point of the speech still stands.

It's a powerful speech that says everyone is an autonomous person and is not obligated to be bound to anyone:

As said, the elements of a typical damsel in distress story are here, but I think it's more human than just a standard crying girl asking for help situation and on a meta level, the story says that whoever is in a similar situation also has a choice.

As also said, you could tear this into pieces when you focus on a bunch of the technicalities surrounding it, but I think as a general sentiment I really do think it’s incredibly powerful.

I mentioned how this chapter commented on how powerful men exploit women, but I think it's more gender neutral than it might initially seem. I think the general feelings here would work just as well if were Ymir a boy, with the only difference probably being another woman being involved to force him to have children. The story has gendered aspects, but it handles them with not only taste, but also in a way where the general point isn’t gendered, similarly to Mikasa's backstory.

Related to this, I think the final element to look at in relation to Ymir's story specifically is Historia’s pregnancy. I think it made it directly much more harder to make natural.

It felt artificial to begin with, but before this, I was much more open-minded about it.

Okay, since Historia genuinely seems to care for everyone, maybe this could've been somehow spun around her sacrifice being genuine and of her own choosing, but now it's as literal of a representation of history repeating itself as it possiblt could get and whether Historia chose the pregnancy or not, subtextually it will always represent history repeating itself.

The pregnancy has a bunch of potential problems: erasing the gay part of a character (since Historia is the most overtly gay character in the series and this happens after her love interest is killed, it will come across this way even if it's not the intention), contradicting a character's arc, but more than that, at this point, I just don't see anything interesting and unique said through it specifically. All other options where the pregnancy is fake sound much more interesting to me.

If the story finds a way to somehow make the pregnancy work in a interesting way, I'll applaud it, but right now I don't see all that many possibilities in terms of how it could.

This chapter literally calls back to the image of the kind girl Historia saw in the book Frieda showed her that she went against and while this contradiction in her arc already existed just with the reveal of the apparent pregnancy, this now puts a big red exclamation mark on it:

It's so obvious that the story missing this contradiction and not even addressing it would be extremely puzzling (which I do think it will).

More than anything, as if it hadn’t done this as strongly as possible already, this also even further (as it possibly could at this point), fortified the idea that something definitely, most certainly, without a doubt, is up. 

Moving on, though, in the same vein as I said there are points in the real world where good and evil exists, there is actually a truth in history. History is a series of facts interpreted by people and with showing the "real truth" here I think the story dodged a dangerous potential implication about history not being factual.

I think it also fixed some of the potential implications with the historical imagery the story has been using.

Firstly, the Eldian empire was born through the exploitation of the weak. We don't even know if Ymir and all the other slaves were all actually Eldians, so depending how you interpret this, it takes away the potentially historically revisionist perspective of the Jewish analogue race ever being the oppressor. There is no place for "both sides" when it comes to the Jewish parallels because it's one of the most black and white situations in all of history. If nothing else, this element at least makes it clear that the story simply wishes to explore the thematic element of the dynamics between the oppressor and the oppressed the idea of power abuse.

Then, through making the encounter with the parasite creature happenstance and the Titan power not biologically inherent to Eldians, it removes the potential implication of the Jewish analogue being biologically different, therefore being "special" compared to other races, which is not the case with any race.

The element that has been there for the longest in my eyes and I think didn’t even need to be elaborated on because it’s been there and explored so much already and that always removed the possibility of the story (at the very least intentionally) being racist to me, though, is that the story treats all characters from all races the same without ever resorting to using caricatures or excessive stereotyping. The Eldians specifically are the main characters of the story, with there being equally good and evil characters among them.

The key element to racism has always been othering and dehumanization and the story for the most part makes sure that even the characters that are awful people have fleshed out perspectives.

I think what also helps in this chapter specifically is having more of a history-inspired than strictly historical situation, showing it all through a fantasy veil compared to the more direct usage of imagery with Marley and the Marleyan Eldians.

Finally, I really liked the potential Titan lore this chapter presented us.

I think it's really neat how it might potentially connect mythology and biology with the possible inspiration being, both, the prehistoric creature Hallucigenia and the mythological dragon under the roots of the world tree Ygdrassil, Nidhoggr, more than that, though, I really like the potential "nature you scary" element of the Titan origins.

The creature driving a horror story usually either isn't explained or is explained through something like aliens, lovecraftian horror, a human-made catastrophe or an experminent.

In this case there are elements of all of these in here and I think any of these could still be revealed to be the direct origin of the Titan parasite, but I really like the potential "nature you scary" element here because we usually always look outside of our world to find horror because we fear what we don't know, but Earth's own nature has plenty of that, too.

Nature can be really unsettling and horrifying at points and I’d like to see that being taken advantage of more.

Overall, though, I really liked this chapter. I think it might be one of my favorites because of Eren's speech, but I also really enjoyed it for it's "show, don't tell" aspect. Sometimes one image can say much more than a thousand words and I think this chapter did a really solid job with that.

[gear-project]

My response to the Closed Beta Survey:

People were asking me for more specifics on how I felt about the survey, so I guess I ought to outline in a larger broader sense what I think so far of Guilty Gear StrIVe.

Graphics: 

Outside of individual characters/animations, the stage graphics needed some better rendering for certain objects.  Things like grass and smaller objects looked “plastic” or “lego-like” in some areas, so that could be tweaked.

Lighting seemed okay, effects from various attacks also looked very good, and better than I was expecting at the time.  Clash/Offset graphics need improvement so that they appear more obvious to players (I still miss Danger Time however... that added an extra spice to the game that GG has missed since the original Instant Kill screen in the first game, perhaps it can be optional in certain modes?).

The beta was especially slow in terms of load times between matches though, and even the matching function for netplay was sluggish as well.

I would like to see actual dramatic clash intros instead of “talking head sequences” for rivalries in the future... the first trailer suggested that was possible, so I hope they can actually achieve this once more like Accent Core once had for Sol and Ky especially.

Animation-wise, nothing really outstanding to note other than the fact I still find Ky’s battle stance to be somewhat strange for him, given the screen-facing perspective... I just find it particularly odd to have his battle stance changed so much since the older games.  While Millia’s stance did change, it was more subtle, for example.

The Tension gauge didn’t seem to provide enough information to me, and was rather overly simplified, and I would like better notifications when my risc guard gauge is high.  Character select still looks dull, though I did like the post-match rating system.  I think players would benefit not just from ratings when they win, but tips and advice when they lose as well.

The lobby still needs a lot of work, but I did like the concept of only having access to certain “floors of the tower” depending on how strong you are as a player.  It makes things feel more like a dungeon exploration than just a netplay lobby.  Gatekeepers truly do exist... so such gameplay should reflect that.

I would like to see something closer to what Granblue Fantasy Versus has, times of day, weather, minigames to do while waiting between matches, or even just a place to mess around with stuff.

Sounds:

Everything sounded okay, albeit random.  Normally I have sound effects much louder than music, as certain sounds serve as important “tells” during a fight.  Voicework tends to come second to that, but I did note that in certain underground stage areas, character voices gained acoustics, which was an interesting change.

I also liked how the voices gained a dramatic echo like the Guilty Gear X era once had, particularly for Overdrive Attacks, which I hope they keep.

Controls:

I’m going to say this up front, but I never liked the concept of throw wiffs for Guilty Gear... while it might be more useful for games like BlazBlue, GG was more fast-paced, and generally geared more towards spacing and neutral attacks, giving throws an opportunity to neutralize an attack at close range.

This made throws safer, but also kept players in check who were always about close-range mixups.  Option selects were also important in older games too.

Add to this, and I dislike the idea of them being attached to the Dust button.  This makes it difficult to do things like run up and perform a Dust attack, or airdash in with a Dust without accidentally inputting a throw input.

Unless they came up with a way to better control throws as opposed to pressing Dust and a Direction (or give it a better input window), I’m not sure I like things how they are.

Another issue I have is the Roman Cancel Button... under most circumstances, the default Roman Cancel macro is P+K+S... this was always the default button in most games, but you couldn’t opt for other macros, like S+K+H, or P+K+H.  This is important for characters who negative edge inputs, like Johnny or Zato, as they might need a different macro input so they can better “hold certain buttons” without having to rely on the default Roman Cancel input.  This applies to other things like Slashback, Blitz, or Faultless Defense as well.  Limiting input macros just leads to more problems if you ask me.

Gatling Combo cancels seem “okay” for now... and I understand why they put limits on Punch and Kick buttons, simply because those kinds of moves have higher priority and are safer in most situations.  I think it makes sense to limit benefits when priority is on taking less risk in a fight.

In other words, using stronger attacks is more of a gamble, and therefore should get more natural benefits.  Bigger risk, better rewards.  This goes for guarding as well.  While blocking itself isn’t taking much risk (or rather, raising RISC), players who use technique like Instant Blocking or FD blocking should get benefits from using it.

I don’t know if Blitzshield will return, but I wouldn’t mind if it did, especially if it functioned the same as Slashbacks in older games, especially on block or wakeup.

Gameplay/Nuances:

Not enough special moves/tools for characters to my liking... though some felt overpowered.  Ky’s 6H acting like a Dust Launcher felt way too powerful for someone like him... though I can understand why such exists if it’s a slow attack.

Other characters felt “sluggish” at certain areas, like Chipp Zanuff and his combo routes (which would normally feel easy to chain together).  Even Alpha Blade felt a bit slow.

Airdash Speed/Height also felt slow and limited.  Also I don’t like the idea that forward Airdashes have the “Air Hike” glyph (DMC), but Air Backdashes do not as much.  If they’re going to have air dash “tells”, it should work for any form of airdash.  That’s especially needed for crossups and IAD situations.

Also it felt like Backdashes weren’t very safe, not to mention the damage output being too high.

I missed moves like Ky’s Grinders or Sol’s Riot Stamp... or even classic moves like Tyrant Rave Alpha, Sidewinder, or Crescent Slash.

Lots of characters felt lobotomized and overly simple to my liking, compared to their more developed older versions.  Even EX characters felt more developed in the older games.

I’m still not sure how I feel about Roman Cancels having a “hitbox” or “launch hit” when they go active, but I guess it takes getting used to.  It’s not a bad tool, but I’m not sure how effective such would be as a Dead Angle on defense.

I was also told that blocking reversal moves (DPs) in the air causes a large blowback... I find that interesting, but I don’t know if there’s pushback when blocking said moves on the ground.

It’s fine if you can FD moves to deal with reversals safely, but common blocking without Instant Blocks should at least have some knockback to put some value in reversal moves.

Other Stuff:

I liked the concept of getting to use normal attacks immediately after certain key special moves (like Sol’s Vortex), or the simplicity of the juggles.  Though I hope they improve things like Dust Air Combos... right now Dust only causes launch on counterhit, there are no more ground Dust combos like Xrd had.

It also felt like the window for an air combo was very small as you could only do 3 hits at most after a Dust Homing Jump.  I would like to see more uses of Jump Dust for characters, or even momentum-based combos.

Things like Impossible Dust (homing jump cancel) or even Jump Install would also be nice.

I would like to see more character-customization, like having different types of weapons/outfits, abilities, or stats, in an adventure-style game (like Granblue currently uses, but bigger in scale perhaps).

I would also like to see different modes of gameplay, like an Isuka Mode, or a 3-on-3 battle setup for team battles (not necessarily tag style, but KOF style teams as well).

I would also like to see GG Generations return... classic modes for every style of play:

GG1 Mode, GGX Mode, GGXXAC Mode, Xrd Mode, and maybe even a GG2 mode that makes special moves resource-heavy (like Granblue currently employs).  Having separate modes of play would satisfy everyone... EX fighting styles as well, to further expand character play.  Gold Bosses and Darkside enemies need to return as well.

I would also hope they explore the prospect of a GG animated film or movie, though that’s still wishful thinking.  Having English novels would also help move things along.

Roster-wise, I just want everyone to return at their best, along with really cool new faces.

Closing Notes:

Experiencing the beta first-hand, I can definitely say it has Guilty Gear aspects at its core, but I felt wanting more.  I know they can pull it off, and I gave them everything I could possibly want in the game.

There’s a possibility they might update the beta later on... so I hope I’ll get to participate in that as well.

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

War Drabble Series: Part IX (Part I)

Monday, March 20, 2004

Draco stared at his mother as she brought in yet another package wrapped in pink and purple paper. “Mother, don’t you think you’re going a bit….overboard?”

She looked completely appalled by the question. “Draco, I’ve missed out on four years of gifts. Just let me have this one thing.”

Yes, sure, of course. This one thing.

For the last three days, Rhea had been showered with everything from frilly dresses to pretty dolls. There may have been a story book in there somewhere too, but he’d lost count of everything after the first day she’d come back from the shops.

“I’m not trying to impede on your grandmotherly duties, but you may be overwhelming her.”

She paused her stride. “Has she said something?”

“No, of course not.” He told her. “She’s rather polite for a four-year-old, but I can tell she doesn’t know what to do. She’s never had such expensive and over frivolous things given to her.”

“I just want to make up for lost time.”

“I understand your intentions, but if you could maybe refrain from buying anything else, for the time being, that would be helpful.”

She sighed as if he was asking her to refrain from drinking tea. “If that’s your wish then I’ll try to do as you ask-”

“Thank you.”

“-but I’m still giving her this,” she said and strolled right past him and into what used to be her personal sitting room but what now served as Rhea’s play room. He followed her in and watched as his daughter, who had been lying on the floor drawing when he’d left her, sit up and smile at her grandmère. “Darling, I have something for you.”

“Another present?”

“Yes. I know it may seem excessive...but grandmère just wants you to have nice things.” She crouched down to help her open the box and Draco could see the look of pure enjoyment when she saw Rhea’s smile widen.

“Oh, she looks like me!” She replied in awe, carefully taking the doll out of it’s package.”

“I know. I saw her and I just knew I’d have to get her. Every little girl should have such a doll.”

Rhea turned and threw her arms around his mother. “Thank you!”

After balancing the little girl on her lap, she twisted her head to look back at him, a smirk of I told you so planted on her face. “You’re very welcome.”

His little girl hugged her doll close and sat back down where’d she’d been moments before.

Standing, his mother turned her attention back to him. “Do you know where your father has gone?”

“He shut himself up in his study an hour ago.” The coward. He just didn’t know what to do with his feelings regarding his granddaughter. Merlin forbid he actually care for her.

“Grandpère gets a headache when I ask too many questions,” Rhea piped up from her spot on the floor.

“Oh, does he now?” She asked, clearly amused.

“That’s what he told daddy. I tried to be quiet but daddy told me it was ok. Grandpère is just getting old. Does that mean you’re getting old too?”

“No, child.” she laughed, “I’m not that old yet and we witches live long lives, so given the context, I’d say I was still quite young indeed.”

“Rhea, it’s not really polite to comment on people’s ages,” Draco told her.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

She just waved it off and sat down in the nearest chair, content to watch Rhea playing with her gift.

Draco felt a slight pull in the wards and he turned in alarm. “Are we expecting company, mother?” he asked her as the floo roared to life in the front room. He was usually aware of any and all visitors to the Manor and he didn’t like being caught off guard, especially when his daughter was sitting just a foot away playing make believe with her doll.

“No, I don’t know who it could be.”

He motioned for her to remain where she was and headed into the hall, intent on greeting whoever was coming through.

“You don’t have to be so suspicious, son. I owled Severus this morning.” His father called, waltzing past him as the wizard in questioned stepped through the fireplace. “If I am to be subjected to the unfamiliar territory that is four-year-old little girls and your mother's coddling, I’m not doing it alone.”

Having heard the exchange, Severus deadpanned. “I was told this was an urgent matter, Lucius.”

“It is,” his father insisted, “there are many matters that need to be discussed. One of which is my son’s lack of forethought.”

Severus regarded him suspiciously but Draco just shrugged. There was really nothing to say. He’d learn the truth soon enough.

“Well, then... by all means, tell me.”

“It would be better if I showed you.”

Silently he followed them back to the sitting room where Draco had left her, but when he spotted the child he halted, a small noise that could be easily dismissed leaving his mouth.

Lucius, unaware of his friend's sudden stiffness, sighed,“It was brought to our attention quite recently that there is a new addition to the Malfoy family. This is Rhea.”

If Severus’s face had held any tint of color it would have easily drained away. Draco briefly wondered if his godfather had actually seen her before. The way he was staring at her certainly indicated that he had.

“Isn’t it wonderful, Severus?” His mother asked in too cheery of a voice. She seemed to be putting on a show. “I never thought I’d be a grandmother so soon, but she’s honestly a delight.”

The older wizard nodded slightly, still looking a bit shaken at the sight of Rhea playing at her feet.

“Rhea,” his mother addressed her, “this is Severus Snape, he is a friend of ours.”

She politely looked up from her toys and smiled, though it seemed a bit off to him. Over the last few days, he’d become quite acclimated with her facial expressions, tics, and nuances. “Hello, Mr. Severus.”

“See, isn’t she darling?” Narcissa crooned. “While I'm saddened for her loss I’m happy that her mother seemed to instill manners in her.”

The dark haired man snapped his head up at her words. “Her....mother?”

“Yes. Eileen Dubois. It was dreadful really,” She began reciting the cover story she had come up with. “To be taken by a fever. So young and so much life ahead of her. It was truly tragic. I’m just grateful her living relative knew to contact Draco after her passing. Who knows what would have happened to the poor girl. The Dubois, while still a pureblood line, has nearly died out, you know.”

He didn’t look like he believed her but replied slowly, “Then she is certainly lucky to have been reunited with her father.”

“As you can see, it has changed the family dynamic somewhat,” Lucius said with a roll of his eyes.

Instead of replying he turned his attention to Draco. “Draco, I’d like a word if you have a moment?”

The look on his godfather's face confirmed that his earlier fears just might be true. He followed him down the hall and into the library where he promptly leveled Draco with perhaps the sternest look he could muster.

“Are you out of your bloody mind?” he asked, just a hint of emotion bleeding through his stoicism,  “If your father finds out that one of the golden trio's brats is living under his roof-”

“Excuse me?” a surprising anger rose up from his stomach. “Did you just call my child a brat?”

“Draco. Now is not the time to go against me.That,” he said, pointing at the door, “is Hermione Granger's daughter. What on earth are you thinking?”

“Oh, I don't know, that I'm her best option at the moment.”

“If the Dark Lord finds out-”

“I’m handling it.” He said, cutting him off.

“Draco, he will kill you or worse. She’s four. Do you think she’ll be prepared to keep silent if-”

Frustrated, he snapped, “I said I’m handling it!”

“Clearly.”

“Look, I don’t know what you want me to say. That this was a bad idea? Fine. Maybe it was. But I’m not going to take her back? Didn’t you see my mother. She’s absolutely besotted. Not to mention the fact that she has no idea who Rhea’s mother is.”

“Oh, yes. Eileen Dubois? That's what you're going with?”

“That was actually mother’s idea,” he grumbled. “She thinks I slept with a prostitute.”

“You're going to put all of us in our graves.”

“What was I supposed to do?” he asked, ”leave her? Let her starve or get snatched off the street? I'm afraid even my Death Eater facade wouldn't allow that.” Severus breathed deeply through his nose. “She's my daughter.”

“Yes, I'm well aware. You don't have to repeat yourself. I've known about her far longer than you, I'm sure.”

A stab of betrayal went through his chest. “You...you didn’t just know about her, did you? You  knew she was mine.”

“Of course I knew. I'm an informant, remember? The moment I laid my eyes on the girl years ago I knew she was a Malfoy. And since I highly doubted Granger took a tumble with your father I assumed you were the one responsible.”

“Why didn't you say something,” he hissed, anger quickly taking over, “All this time…”

“Because it is dangerous information, Draco. I knew that you'd go in half cocked and get yourself killed, or worse, get her killed.”

He paused, letting that sink in. “I...don’t think you give me enough credit, but I can see why you’d think that.”

“Yes, so forgive me for being concerned for both of your well beings.”

“I know you have my best interests in mind, but I’m still getting used to being a father. I’m rather defensive at the moment.”

“Understandable. It must have been quite the shock.”

“Flipped my world arse up, more like,” he sighed.

His godfather looked like he was done with the conversation so he cleared his throat before he would hastily retreat out into the hall.

“Severus, while you’re here, there is something that you can do for me.”

He raised a brow in what Draco took as encouragement.

“Would you request an audience with the Dark Lord?”

“Draco,” he warned. “Have you not learned patience?”

“He is going to find out eventually. I’d rather he find out from me than one of his minions. He may be suspicious of her and if he thinks I’m hiding something from him, he’ll question everything I do. I can’t risk it. I need to move freely and I need him to believe her mother is dead.”

“But are you prepared to do anything to keep up this charade? You will need to do something about her mind, Draco. You can’t keep him out without him knowing it.”

The uncomfortable truth had his heart thrumming. He’d thought about this very thing every night since she’d come to him. He had very few options, but he’d need to decide soon. “I know. I will do whatever I have to to keep her safe. I made a promise…”

Silence reigned a moment before the dark haired wizard spoke. “Fine. I’ll put in the request when I return tonight.”

An almost spontaneous feeling of relief and anxiety overtook him. “Thank you.”

“Now...we’ve been gone long enough for me to give you a thorough lecture. I’m sure your father is having a bit of a rough time. He seems like he’s trying hard to dislike the girl.”

“He’ll have a hell of a time with it. She’s hard to dislike.”

He nodded. “So it seems….though it may prove to be an asset in the future.”

“How so?”

“Wouldn’t it be for the best if the other purebloods adored her as well? Who would question the legitimacy of such a polite and wonderful child?”

He rolled his eyes and huffed, “I’ll make sure to have her work on her curtsy.”

An almost smile quirked on Severus’s lips. “See that you do.”

Friday, March 24, 2004

Draco was exhausted.

How did Granger even keep up with their daughter? Surely she had some kind of secret? Not only was Rhea curious, asking him and his parents what purpose nearly every piece of furniture in the house had, but she was also a ball of energy. She spent a lot of her time running around the estate, her doting grandmother and tired father following behind her.

Before Rhea, he’d thought being a Death Eater was taxing, but chasing down a four-year-old while she ran naked down the hall covered in bubbles was something he’d just never get used to. He couldn’t imagine his comrades chasing around their offspring. Most of them would probably have a House Elf do it, but he wasn’t built that way. Despite his parent's flaws, they had always loved and cared about him growing up. His father and he had the differences, but he was hoping that the rift between them could be mended.

Rhea showing up in their lives was actually helping more than hindering that rift.

His father tried so hard to pretend he wasn’t interested in the little girl, but Draco didn’t miss the way his gaze would linger or the muttered words of “just like her father” as she did something rambunctious. He wasn’t nearly as attentive to her whims as his mother though. He wondered if his mother had secretly wanted a girl. She sure enjoyed doting on her grandchild.

At least she’d taken a break from the gifts since their discussion. He should be grateful.

It was hard to be grateful for anything, though, when you were running on three hours of sleep and Pepper Up potion.

The last few days had been even more difficult considering his Lord was putting pressure on him to return to the city. He’d gotten away with a bit of “personal leave” but his time was quickly running out. Soon Voldemort would understand his reasons for skirting his duties, but right now he would probably be suspicious. He found himself both anxious and dreading the inevitable meeting.The sooner it happened, the sooner they could get through it, but he was also consumed with worry for Rhea.

She wasn’t used to the harsh treatment of someone poking around in her brain. Her age was a factor as well. She was polite but she was still very much a little child. Fear could keep her tight lipped, but even that was not preferable. There was only so much he could do to make sure she didn’t slip up in front of him, but he really didn’t want to think about that now.

Now he wanted to enjoy the afternoon trailing after his daughter as she wandered from room to room.

They’d finally stopped in the parlor where his mother’s ivory baby grand piano sat as a beautiful, yet rarely used focal point. She had been to the room before but Tilly hadn’t let her touch the instrument.

“Daddy? Can I play?” She asked him, hopefully.

He nodded in approval and watched her run her fingers along the keys of the piano, her face bright with excitement and recognition. She climbed up on the bench and pressed down on a few of them, filling the room with a clashing of notes. She laughed at the horrible sound but began playing an unorganized tune.

Just seeing her having fun, curls loose around her shoulders and tiny hands creating music, made his heart ache. She may be the spitting image of him, but she had her mother’s soul. She had Hermione’s goodness and her ability to face forward and see the light, even when she was in the midst of darkness.

<i>He’d just finished with a meeting between Potter and Lupin when he heard the sound of music playing from the other room. It was lovely, if not a little somber, and he found himself gravitating towards it. It had been so long since he’d heard anyone play, as his mother had stopped while the Dark Lord had taken up residence in the Manor. He wasn’t incredibly shocked to see Granger sitting at the old piano, but was surprised to see her hair tamer than usual. It laid in almost perfect curls and he wondered if she’d just gotten out of the bath.

He would have stayed there all day and listened to her playing, but he’d much rather speak with her than watch her from the corner of the room.

There was just something about Hermione Granger that pulled at him. Whenever he was in the same room as the witch he could feel a certain spark between them. They had shared many conversations and a few heated looks over the last few months and he always found himself seeking her out, even if she wasn’t present for meetings.

Like now.

“Rather depressing,” he said, coming to a halt beside her, “Isn’t it?”

Her fingers banged on the wrong notes as he spoke, obviously startled by his presence. “What?” She asked, turning her head to get a better look at him.

He pointed at the piano. “Beethoven, right?”

Shocked, she nodded. “Yes... Moonlight Sonata.”

“Mmmm. Thought so.” He leaned over and played a few notes. “Mother always said that it was a beautiful  piece, but I’ve always found it quite melancholy.”

“You play the piano?” Her tone was questioning but her face betrayed her excitement.

“I used to when I was a child. Mother insisted that I learn, but she is far better at it than I am. I never had the patience.”

“Nooo. Impatient?” She raised a brow, “You?”

He sighed dramatically. “I know I tend to throw out this perfectly cool and calm persona, but I was actually an incredibly spoiled child.”

“So you got out of lessons with a pout?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, Granger. Malfoy’s do not pout. What we do is propose other equally stimulating activities to our mothers until we get their approval.”

“And if that didn’t work? What was your backup plan? Did you wait them out with a hunger strike or a refusal to use table manners?”

“I’m afraid to ask where you came up with that,” he replied, trying to get over the absurdity of her words. “But if you must know. I didn’t have a backup plan. It always worked. My father agreed that teaching me how to fly was a much better use of my time than playing piano with my mother.”

“Wow...you really were spoiled.”

“Can’t really choose your parents though, can you, Granger?”

“I do suppose that’s true, Malfoy.”

The conversation lulled then, and as it always did, the spark between them made its presence known. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing at her lips as she spoke and he couldn’t help but notice the look in her eyes as she regarded him. If they hadn’t been in a house full of Order Members, he might have just taken a chance and kissed her right then and there.

She turned her attention to the piano again but didn’t play. “Shouldn’t you be getting back? Surely someone will have noticed your absence.”

“They may have, but there isn’t anything nearly as interesting as you back at the Manor.” It wasn’t his smoothest line, but he couldn’t just leave without at least putting a bit of effort in.

Her eyes lit up but her mouth frowned.“Was that really your attempt at flirting with me tonight?”

He smirked. “Did it work?”

She laughed and shook her head at him. “Not a chance.”

“Damn. I thought I had you for sure that time.”

“I’m afraid you’ll just have to try harder next time, Malfoy,” she told him, a mischievous smile spreading across her face, “and wait a little longer.”

“Clever witch,” he replied, flashing him a smile of his own.

She rose from the bench and yawned. “”Well, some of us aren’t nocturnal, so this is where I accuse myself.” She paused at the doorway. Goodnight, Malfoy.”

He gave her a small nod in return.“Goodnight, Granger.”<i>

The sound of footsteps echoing across the marble floor tore him out of his memory.

“Draco.” His father stood in the doorway. “It seems you’ve received an owl from Severus.”

That quickly sobered him and he nearly ran to his father to take the parchment from his hands. “Thank you.”

“Is this about your request to see the Dark Lord?”

Of course, he’d known his father was aware of his request but it was a bit jarring to hear the worried tone he’d used when he asked about it. Was he actually nervous and concerned for his granddaughter? Or was he just worried about the Malfoy’s reputation?

Either way, Draco was glad he wasn’t the only one on pins and needles waiting to hear back.

“Yes, I can assume that it is. Severus never was one to waste precious paper on frivolous endeavors.”  

He was right. Severus had written to let him know that The Dark Lord was eager to see what important information Draco had for him. The meeting had been set for later that evening. He almost discarded the letter but saw a small ink smudge near the end of his signature.

He quickly folded it and placed it in his pocket.

His godfather never sent smudged letters. If an accident were to happen he would just begin again, so this was deliberate. It was their personal code to let the other know of a secret message on the parchment.

“What did he have to say?” His father asked him before he could rush back to his room to read the note in private.

“We are to meet with our Lord this evening at his estate.” He told him. “As a family.”

“I’ll inform your mother.”

He nodded and called for Rhea to follow him to his bedchamber. It would ease his mind to know she was near as he read whatever his godfather had hidden.

He pulled the letter out of his pocket as soon as he was safely behind his door and muttered, “Aparecium.”

He watched as the letters rearranged themselves, revealing the true message within.

<i>Draco,

I know you are probably relying on a false memory spell to keep your secret hidden from him. I would be inclined to agree with that choice, but to do so without the use of one to modify her behavior would be reckless. Charming, though she is, I would not put my trust in The Dark Lord’s reactions to her. One wrong move and we’ll all be in trouble. I have no doubt that if anyone were to lay a hand on her your life would automatically be forfeit. There is a way to circumnavigate this problem, though.

Might I suggest the Imperius?<i>

He couldn’t read past the sentence.

He was right about planting false memories inside her head for him to sift through, and he was also right about what he should do beyond that. Of course, Draco had thought about it as well, but he wanted it to be the last option. He really didn’t want to use such a thing on his own daughter.

“Fuck.”

He felt like he was going to be ill.

How was this any different than obliviating her? He was still taking away her choice, and maybe in an even worse way. She would be unable to go against him as long as the spell was enacted. She might not mind or realize that now, but later when she understood what he’d done to her...

She might hate him.

That was a risk he would be willing to take, though, if it saved her life in the end. What was important was getting through the meeting with the least amount of pain as possible. There was a chance that if he played this right, no one would have any reason to question him or his loyalty. If the Dark Lord believed that she was his pureblood, or even half blood, heir, no one would be able to go openly against him. At least when it came to Rhea. To question her legitimacy would be to question the Dark Lord himself. No one was that bloody stupid.  

So, this was his best option. He crinkled the letter in his fist. This.

He was going to have to let Nott take him out for a drink after tonight.

He steeled himself as he got the little girl’s attention. This would not be a fun conversation for either of them. “Rhea, there’s something we need to talk about,” he told her in a quiet voice,”Something very important.”

“What’s wrong?” She asked, her tiny brows furrowing in concern. “Are you ok? Are you sick?”

“No, nothing like that,” he assured her.

“Then why do you look like that?”

Apparently, he was utter shite at hiding his emotions from his daughter. He crouched down in front of her so she was eye level with him.“Daddy is just worried. You see, Daddy has a boss...a very mean boss that is really scary. For you to be able to leave the manor you will have to meet this boss.”

“If he’s scary I don’t want to meet him.”

“That’s why I need you to listen to me. You have to meet him, Rhea. I’m sorry. There isn’t a way to avoid it. But Daddy knows it will be very scary and hard, especially when it comes to remembering what to say and what not to say about your mummy and uncles so I’m going to hel-”

“I won’t talk about them. I promise!” Her voice rose an octave and tears were shimmering in her eyes as she stared at him, her hands clutching at his shirt tightly. “I do good. I don’t say nothing about them to grandmère. I won’t say anything bad!”

He hugged her to his chest, unable to stand the sight of her crying. “I know, Darling. You’ve done such a good job. You’re a good girl, Rhea, and I’m so proud of you.” Now he felt like crying. “But this...wizard...has the ability to see inside people’s heads. He can see memories and Daddy is scared that he will see something he shouldn’t. Even when you aren’t saying words with your mouth.”

“What’s going to happen? I don’t want to see the scary man.”

“I know, love. I know. But I’m going to take care of it, alright? I’m just going to cast a couple of spells that will help with the memories and the anxie- er....the yucky feelings you’ll have. IF I do it, you won’t be scared of him. You won’t have to be nervous or uncomfortable. You just have to trust me.” He pulled her away from his chest to look into her red and swollen eyes. “Can you do that for me? Can you trust Daddy?”

“Will I be alright when we get home?”

“Yes, I promise. Everything will be fine.”

“Ok. Daddy. You can do the spell.”

He was a horrible father. This little girl was blindly trusting him with her whole being simply because she loved him and this was how he was going to repay that trust? He closed his eyes and summoned the strength within him to cast the curse. His hands clutched his wand tightly to keep them from shaking. This was the only way he could assure her safety.

Everything will be alright.

Everything will be fine.

I can do this.

I have to.

I made a promise to Hermione.

This is the only way.

“Daddy?”

He released the spell.  “Imperio.”

[lovehotelreservation]

Guilty As Charged - Stalking

Summary: An attempt at surprising you early upon his return to Tokyo is thwarted when Yusuke realizes that you’re out with the girls for the day. However, not to be deterred--especially with how deeply he has missed you--he sets off to follow your trail, taking whatever hint and breadcrumb that comes his way.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Reader/Yusuke

HELLO EVERYONE! AND SO WE’RE HERE FOR ANOTHER ROUND OF FOXBOY DURING THIS FAFFERY! I enjoyed myself immensely with working on this piece, and I do so sincerely hope you have fun while reading this!

**Furthermore, just to note and make clear, I don’t condone stalking to be seen as healthy behavior in a relationship, even though there was nuances of it that shall be reflected by Yusuke in this one-shot

----------------

Thank you, darling. I eagerly await for when I can have you in my arms again.

Staring longingly at his phone screen, Yusuke smiled tiredly to himself as his gaze shifted back up to the small screen in the elevator he was in, watching every number increase with fluttering anticipation.

In a matter of minutes, he would be with you again.

While his acceptance into Kanazawa College of Art was a prestige that he was proud to have achieved, he knew that attending this school meant that he would be leaving you behind since you were going to Tokyo University. Upon his announcement that he would be moving to the Ishikawa region, he immediately took your hands into his, squeezing tight while his eyes bore into yours, the words he spoke to you passionate with resolve.

"No matter the distance, my love, it does not matter! Though we may be apart physically, the love I have for you will not falter even in the slightest! As they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder, no?"

It was a sentiment that you shared as well, even as you were teary from his declaration.

And surely, the long-distance relationship that the both of you soon had come with its ups and downs. His inspiration especially was effected, either at its peak when you came to visit, or at its utter lowest when you had to return to Tokyo. Still, the two of you remained together, connected with constant messages, late-night calls, and even letters--with his always leaving you speechless from how detailed and gorgeous they were.

But now, at last, he didn't have to worry about distance any longer. Summer was here and, having finished with exams early, Yusuke felt compelled to act on his desire and return to Tokyo post-haste rather than wait at the end of the week--especially since a night bus was far cheaper than taking the bullet train.

The message he was glancing over was the last text he sent you, in response to you wishing him the best for his exams and how you couldn't wait to see him.

Yusuke chuckled to himself as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. Grabbing the handle of his luggage, he stepped forward out to the hallway, where your apartment suite would be waiting for him at the very end.

Indeed. He was planning on surprising you with his arrival.

It was a little late in the morning, and since he knew you were on break already, he expected you to be in sleep. As you did give him a key to your apartment, he didn't have to worry about calling you to help him in.

With a pleased hum, he unlocked your front door and stepped inside, thinking about how to best surprise you. Curl up beside you and wait until you woke up? Perhaps prepare a splendid breakfast--arranging the food as aesthetically pleasing as possible--and allow the sizzling griddle and delectable aroma to rouse you? Or, even better, cook for you and serve you breakfast in bed?

Yusuke pondered these options as he removed his shoes. Luggage in hand, he stepped out from the genkan to where it lead to your kitchen and living room. A fond smile quickly formed, as everything looked to be the same as when he visited during Golden Week, even more when he glanced at your coffee table, seeing some of the souvenirs you bought together while visiting Hakone.

As nice as it would be to reminisce wonderful memories of the past, in that moment, Yusuke just couldn't wait to see you.

Leaving his luggage by your couch, he quickly set off for your room.

As soon as his hand touched your doorknob, he inhaled sharply, his excitement impossible to contain as he entered your room and--

You weren't there.

His body tensed, though he tried to refrain from jumping to conclusions. Your bed was made and he could catch the faint scent of your favorite perfume, which meant that you must have used it not too long ago. If you weren't in your room then, he pondered while stepping out to leave, perhaps the bathroom?

It only took a few steps over as he was opening yet another door. Thankfully, whatever worries that were beginning to build were put at ease, as by some godsend coincidence, his phone vibrated.

He received some texts from you.

Never had he felt so much relief from looking at his phone--not counting his days as a Phantom Thief. With a content sigh, he read over what you sent.

Morning babe! I hope your exams went well!

OTL Sorry I didn't respond last night. I went to bed early because I'll be out with the girls all day!

I can't wait to see you too! <3

Yusuke pressed his phone to his chest, a tender smile forming. Truly how he loved you so.

Regarding what you said, perhaps he could just wait for you to return home and surprise you then. Delayed gratification was something he knew all to well.

However, right as Yusuke returned his phone to his pocket while he was about to step away from your bathroom, it was then that he noticed something:

Lingering steam. Condensation on the shower glass.

It was evident that you took a shower before you left--

He suddenly felt a heavy lump in his throat.

Slowly, his gaze shifted to your laundry basket. If you just took a shower, that would mean...

The months that passed since he last saw you--since he was last intimate with you--felt like an eternity. Though sending risqué photos between you both wasn't new--especially since he used to request them mainly for reference rather than personal reasons--and even helped alieve being apart, there was nothing like being face to face, skin to skin.

Stepping over to lift up the lid your laundry basket however, this was merely a snack to sate his overwhelming appetite.

Looking inside, his eyes immediately shifted to what he hoped to see, there on top of your sleeping clothes.

Your panties.

Yusuke didn't wait to snatch it up into his hands, feeling his cock stiffen as soon as his fingers touched the garment.

Your used panties.

Would he be so depraved as to seek sexual satisfaction from one of your most intimate belongings? Would he give in to more primal urges, a showcase of how one may be shaped and sculpted by society, only to crack from and wither from being weathered down by temptation and vice?

His thumb gently ran over the fabric, just as he visualized doing so while you were wearing it.

Yes.

Your panties against his nose and lips, he inhaled deeply, taking in the heady musk.

God, how he missed your scent.

He was in your bathroom for less than five minutes and his cock was already throbbing with desire. His pants--which were tight yet comfortable, especially for an overnight bus ride--felt suffocating to continue wearing.

With a shudder, Yusuke inhaled once more while bringing a hand down to palm his erection, rubbing himself through the fabric. Unable to take another moment in constraint, his deft fingers reached for his belt, eager to undo the buckle.

And then his phone vibrated once more.

Surprised, the feeling that washed over him was guilt, as though you were messaging him while knowing what he was up to. His face becoming red, he drew out his phone once more.

And sure enough, it was by your doing.

But not directly.

Rather, he received a notification from one of his social media accounts, which alerted him that you just posted a picture. Allowing this setting was something he made sure of when the two of you separated for college, wanting to be sure that he didn't miss out on the opportunity to compliment and revere your beauty. Sure enough, you were hanging out with Haru, Futaba, Ann, and Makoto, the five of you having breakfast together, curry and coffee right at on top of a familiar looking booth.

Leblanc.

Yusuke chuckled to himself. The restaurant wasn't too far from your apartment, which would make it easy for him to surprise you. Instead of waiting for your return--while excited as he was to reunite with you--he didn't mind going the extra mile for your sake.

Never would he do so.

Though, there was a matter of how he was still erect. However, if he were to try and relieve himself now, that could risk potentially missing the chance to surprise you at Leblanc.

Besides...

He pulled your panties back, staring at how they remained bunched up in his hand.

No. His will was stronger than that.

Though, even as proceeded to set off to go follow you, he still stuffed your underwear into one of his pockets. Upon retrieving his day bag and picking a granola bar from your pantry, he left your apartment and headed right to the station.

Delayed gratification, delayed gratification.

Such was the mantra repeated in his head on the train ride over to Yongenjaya. Though really, if he waited months to see you, there would be nothing better, more pleasurable than to seek release from you through reunion.

For now, he would bide his time--maybe even enjoy some coffee from Leblanc.

As soon as the train reached Yongenjaya Station, he made quick work towards the cafe, his footsteps brisk, his expression determined. Though, once he rounded the corner to where Leblanc was located, he slowed his stride as he approached the front window. Not wanting to be too obvious, he slowly peered over inside, careful to not reveal his face too much.

You weren't there.

He grew crestfallen, a disappointed frown forming. Your booth was empty, both in patrons and dishes. Rather, there was an elderly couple sitting in your place, each with their own cups of coffee. Sojiro seemed to be busy at work, as from the look of things, it seemed to be surprisingly busy this late morning.

Yusuke let out a sigh.

This was certainly going along well.

Perhaps the gods were admonishing him for being too impatient, that this particular gratification would be savored best after a little more delay.

Though he was beginning to feel a sense of defeat, Yusuke didn't want to give up just yet--especially since he already paid the fare to come here anyway. At this point, he thought it would be best to just text you, but there ran the risk of you giving a general answer which, if he tried to inquire further, could draw some suspicion. Still, he thought of something to message you with, all the while bringing up one of his social media apps.

It would be worth his while to check if you--or any of the other girls--posted anything, even if he didn't receive any new notifications yet.

What he saw made him wonder if fate was purposefully toying with him.

As soon as he brought up the app, a new picture from you posted mere seconds ago. It was a filtered photo of Takeshita Street, which surprisingly didn't look too busy for once. This was reflected by your comment, which noted your awe of this rare phenomena, all the while stating your excitement to be spending the rest of the now early afternoon here.

The rest of your afternoon.

There was no time to waste.

However, just to avoid what happened here in Yongenjaya, Yusuke texted you some purple prose straight from the heart, offering his thanks and again reiterating how he couldn't wait to see you, with an additional inquiry of what you would be doing today.

It was right when he got on the train when you confirmed that you would be at Harajuku for most of the afternoon, even adding that you were doing a bit of shopping before going to a summer festival with the girls later on. He felt like his heart could sing upon reading your response, already visualizing how splendid and heavenly you would look in a summer yukata.

You will surely be a stunning beauty later today. But for him, rather than marvel at it from pictures, he would get to see it firsthand--maybe even lend his talents to style you, for he certainly knew what colors and patterns complimented you best.

So entranced by the thought that he nearly missed his stop at Harajuku. Relieved to have not delayed himself further--and having to fork another few hundred yen for another train ticket--he quickly began his search for you.

Compared to when you posted your picture of Takeshita Street, the crowds have begun to pick up, with more to be expected since this was to be a Friday afternoon in the summer. On one hand, his search for you would become difficult if he didn't find you immediately, whereas there was also an opportunity to obscure himself in case he wasn't ready to surprise you just yet.

Having gone to Harajuku with you a fair amount of times for dates and people-watching, he set off to check your favorite stores. Though you were hanging out with the girls, he thought doing this was his best chance. And so he walked forward, all the while glancing from side to side in hopes of catching a glimpse of you, while still making sure he wasn't walking into other people.

And then he heard a piercing cry that made his ears wince.

"Br-Brain freeze!"

The volume, the whiny inflection.

Futaba?

Though sure enough, when his gaze turned straight ahead, he saw the ever tiny form of Futaba clutching her head with one hand while squeezing the crepe she was holding with utmost ferocity. As it quickly became apparent, she was standing in front of the Angel's Heart crepe stand, with Ann, Haru, Makoto, and--his breath hitched--you attending to her with worry.

Captivated.

Enraptured.

Blessed.

There you were, looking so ethereal and angelic, an effect furthered by the sunlight radiating upon you. You were dressed for summer, your dress flowing, loose and revealing for comfort. With a delectable, extravagant-looking crepe in your hands, you exuded a sense of innocence, one which furthered as--upon Futaba giving a thumbs up of her condition--you took a bite into your treat, resulting in whipped cream getting brushed over your mouth.

Watching you lick your lips clean made him do the same, whereas you did so in satisfaction, he did so in hunger.

His pants were beginning to feel tight again. At this point, it would be for the best to surprise you while you were on your own, given the kind of urges that were clawing at his self-restraint. He'll be greeting you in front of the girls in one moment before whisking you off to the nearest alleyway in the next. For his sake, he preferred that whatever eccentricity he had to be restricted just for his heart.

"Please be careful, Futaba."

The worried sigh emitted from Makoto snapped him from his reverie. Realizing he was gawking in the middle of the street and could be seen any moment, he immediately stepped towards one of Angel's Heart menu boards, ducking away while feigning the guise of a curious customer.

"I don't blame her. The craftsmanship of these crepes is impeccable!"

The refined chime of Haru.

"Mmhmm! I could honestly go for another one!"

The cheerful hum of Ann.

"I'm with you there!"

Yusuke sighed to himself, feeling tranquility overcome him.

Your voice.

"A-Ahem! Worry not everyone, I won't be beaten by sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia, however delicious it is! Excuse that outburst, if you would! Let's get to clothes shopping!"

"Are you saying that for realsies, or because you want to finish things up so you can pass by Akihabara before the festival~?"

"A-Ann! You...! You Judas!"

"Please...you two...let's not."

"My my, it's looking to be quite lively this afternoon!"

"Heehee, are you entertained, Haru?"

'I know I am because of you, dearest,' Yusuke thought, refraining from letting out an all-knowing chuckle. Though, when he peeked around the menu board, he saw that the five of you were beginning to step away, finishing your crepes as you walked.

With you in sight, he proceeded to follow you, keeping a fair distance away. Already, the desire that had been culminating up to this point was near its peak. Truly, he would need to surprise you once you were alone, which should be feasible once the five of you split up to browse around the many stores in Harajuku.

But fate wanted to be a bit more sadistic towards him.

The five of you ended up in one of Harajuku's bigger clothing stores, and while the other four checked around racks and displays of things that caught their eye, it seemed that this shopping trip was for your sake. While he darted around the store--as much as he could without drawing suspicion--he kept an eye on the dressing room area, where you disappeared into after grabbing some clothes. He didn't get a good look at what you picked out exactly, for once he entered the store was when you slipped away into a stall. From then on, it was Makoto or Futaba fetching outfits for you while Ann and Haru stood by in case you needed help with getting something on or off, or to offer feedback.

He shuddered at one point, feeling a sense of envy when he saw you poke out from around the curtain to your dressing room, your décolletage bare while you asked Ann if she could assist with a hard to reach zipper. So close, yet so far, it would be a pleasure--an honor--to do such a simple action for you. If only Ann and Haru had reason to step away from the dressing room, giving him the opportunity to make himself known, to greet you with kisses and bestow nothing but relentless passion--clothing store dressing room be damned.

"Ohoho, now that's some Indigofera tinctoria put to good use!"

"Indeed. This attire looks splendid on you."

"As pretty as those fancy dolls I sometimes see on display at Isetan!"

"Ahh~! So cute! I'm sure Yusuke's gonna love this when he sees you!"

At the sound of Ann's squeal, Yusuke was pulled out of fantasy yet again to see the four young women gathered around your dressing room, whereupon you slid the curtain aside to reveal an outfit that made his jaw drop. The feeling of seeing you at last earlier this afternoon was amplified, not double, not even ten times the amount--truly a number or even words could describe how beautiful you looked.

Your outfit was similar to the one you were wearing--suitable for summer. However, the difference fell upon the fabric's shade of blue--a favorite of his and one that complimented your complexion--and the attire's fit, much more form-fitting by comparison.

The fact that this was supposed to be meant for him made it all the more delightful. Truly, you were both his muse and the physical manifestation of any masterpiece he wishes to create in your name.

Seeing your expression brighten at the mention of him, he watched as a giddy smile spread over your lips as you sighed with content, "I hope he likes it too!"

How he loved and desired you so much right now.

It would appear that you found what you came for, as once you changed into your original attire, you went to go pay. While Yusuke waited outside for you to step out, he was gearing up for a bit more following and plenty of ways to have you to himself.

However, fate decided to show some mercy at long last.

"Alright, I'll be seeing you girls later!"

While hiding behind a clothes rack near the store's entrance, Yusuke felt his breath hitched at your words. Was this his chance?

"Ah, would you like one of us to accompany you home?" Makoto queried.

'That role can be entrusted to me, Makoto, worry not.'

"I'll be fine. If worse comes to worse, I'll just call one of you, or Yusuke."

'Most certainly, darling. You can always rely on me.'

"Heheh, if Inari senses you're in danger, he'll be more like a hedgehog instead," Futaba teased while waving goodbye.

"If that is what you wish." Makoto affirmed with a nod, smiling pleasantly. "We'll meet at Meiji Shrine at 6 then? I believe Akira and Ryuji confirmed that they would be attending as well."

"For sure!" You chirped, bringing your hand up to wave in parting. Smiling to yourself, you moved on ahead, passing by a clothing rack as you did so.

Yusuke was already gone.

He was determined to beat you back to your apartment. For as much as he craved you, he believed his resolve to be sturdier than his thoughts and actions may imply. You, his cherished muse, deserved comfort, not to be ravished in a grimy alleyway, even if that location matched the state of his current mindset.

In other words, if he was going to have his way with you, he would do so in the comforts of your apartment.

As for you, the trip back home was pleasant, your spirits high as you found the ideal outfit to greet Yusuke in once he came back to Tokyo. It was while you were standing in one of Harajuku Station's platforms when you decided to check your phone again. Seeing a few text notifications from your boyfriend, you smiled at his timing and checked his messages.

Worry not, my love. I hope your day has been as splendid as you are.

What were you up to?

You giggled to yourself. Exams must have exhausted him so much for him to be texting this late in the day.

On the train ride back, you noted your day briefly. Breakfast at Leblanc with the girls, crepes from Angel's Heart, and just wandering around Harajuku for some window shopping. In the meantime, you would be heading back home to prepare for the festival later tonight.

Ahh, the gloriousness of summer festivals. I wish to be there with you, darling.

Please, if you would indulge me, take lots of pictures. Both of yourself and of whatever remarkable things you see.

By the time you were typing out a response, you were jiggling the doorknob to your apartment.

You were home now.

Upon stepping inside and shutting the door, you were soon taken by the sight of your living room, namely a familiar looking luggage that was most definitely not there when you left that morning.

Your mouth opened in a gasp as you quickly stepped ahead to confirm your assumptions. Placing your belongings to the side, you checked over the suitcase. After verifying that it was indeed your boyfriend's, you then questioned out loud, "What's this I see...? Yusuke, are you here--?"

"Yes, darling."

At first, you were alarmed to suddenly feel yourself confined in a tight embrace from behind, but you quickly relaxed back into the familiar lithe build that was pressed behind you, catching the scent of a subtle, woodsy body wash. Still, you wondered where he was lurking to have quickly and quietly snuck up on you like this. But it something that wasn't to be considered for now, as what was quickly brought up to your attention was your boyfriend's desperate, rutting hips, and how his erect cock was being pressed against your backside.

Slender fingers reached for your chin, tilting your head so you faced him. You were quickly met by his desire for you through hungry lips, hearing him groan as his mouth touched yours. The fervor in his kiss made you feel weak in the knees, especially since you had been waiting for him to come back for so long.

The two of you parted, both of you noticing and admiring how flushed one another looked. With a shudder, he immediately brought his face to your neck, nuzzling with affection even as his hands began to roam over your body with lustful need. "Darling, how I've missed you."

You trembled in his grasp, mewling when he seized and began to fondle one of your breasts while feeling his other hand reach for your thigh to squeeze before shoving it up the skirt of your dress. As if you weren't flustered enough, your boyfriend's words were quickly easing you into a frenzy.

"I couldn't wait to see you so I came back as soon as I could and-- Gods, the rapture in my heart right now-- I feel I could make a hundred masterpieces and more!" His lips kissed your neck, soft at first--per his sophistication--only to become sloppy as they trailed up to your ear, in reflection of his unrestrained arousal.

You moaned as you felt his fingers trail to between your legs, rubbing your core through your panties. At first he was gentle, but as soon as he noticed that you were becoming wet by his touch, he immediately nudged the fabric aside to stroke you directly.

At long last, you were in his possessions, here for him to touch. Panting against your ear, he confessed, "I kept an eye on you all day. Your social media posts helped doing so and-- And now, I just...I cannot keep my hands away from you any longer...!"

Arching against him and bringing your hips against his fingers, you whimpered a feeble, "Y-Yusuke...!"

The hand on your breast was drawn back, as did he by half a step, while his tongue ran over the shell of your ear. "I am a lovestricken fool, one who couldn't wait yet another day without you, one who couldn't resist waiting even an afternoon for you to return home. I admit, there was this...voyeuristic thrill to watch you without you knowing...and thus, I ask..."

To suddenly feel his fingers retreat from your center, only to be replaced by a new heat between your thighs, it was only fitting that you thought you were about to melt. But being supported by Yusuke, you remained upright as he eased his cock between your thighs. The two of you quivered: him because of finally releasing himself from restraint to be with you so intimately, and you because of how he displayed a lust that could no longer wait another second.

One hand latching onto your hip, Yusuke kissed along the side of your face as he hoarsely voiced out, shifting his hips back and forth, rubbing his cock against the wet fabric of your panties, "Will you be merciful and take pity upon this fool of yours?"

Your hands placed themselves over his, motioning for him to let you go. He tensed, wondering if he went too far, only to watch as you bent over the top of your couch, swaying your hips at him, all the while you looked back with desire etched on your face, even as you hummed, "Go all out, Yusuke~"

Yusuke's eyes clenched tightly as he took in a sharp breath.

So sweet, so kind.

And all his.

Even with clothes on, it didn't matter. With the skirt of your dress flipped over and shoved up, your panties yanked down to your ankles, Yusuke moved to ravage you. His arms encircled tightly around you, he pounded his erect cock in and out of your cock without any sense of composure, just blindly adhering to his most primal instincts.

Your lover's lips attached themselves to your neck once more, eager to use your neck like a canvas for him to mark up as he wished, only breaking apart when he needed to groan or was in need of kissing you ferverishly. His hands returned to either kneading your breasts, or running circles over your clit. Having been deprived of your pretty moans and delightful shudders, he was looking to immediately satisfy his fill of you.

From the corner of his eye, Yusuke watched as you clawed at the material of your sofa--he couldn't wait to eventually have you do the same to his shoulderblades. As you writhed with pleasure beneath him, he felt you roll your hips back to meet his thrusts, which only encouraged him to fuck you harder to give you what you craved.

The space of your apartment--having been so quiet save for when you had friends over--were filled with noise, a symphony dedicated to how he needed you so. Between the moans and cries you both let out of each other's names, the wet slaps of his hips pumping into yours, he was glad that he ended up waiting for you to return home so you both may be as shamelessly loud as you wanted.

For as long as you wanted.

This summer with you was going to be splendid. However, for now, you both could at last be at ease after months of being wound up, your body arching against the sofa while Yusuke threw his head back, crying out breathlessly as he released hot, pearl-hued warmth deep inside of you.

While you slumped over your furniture, he did the same to you, but was mindful to not let you be weighed down by his weight. Instead, he hugged you close, bringing his face to the back of your neck, kissing affectionately. The after glow of intimacy. How he missed it so with you--

"How mean of you, Yusuke."

"Darling?" He lifted an eyebrow as you turned your head back.

Though you looked exhausted, a pout fixated itself on your lips. "Not telling me that you were coming early. I really wanted to surprise you with my outfit!"

A gentle laugh rose out of him, his hand cupping your cheek once again so he may kiss your lips lovingly. "It would have only ended up on the floor regardless, darling." His forehead rested against yours, his gaze reflection nothing else but utmost reverence. "Still, I am touched that you were thinking of me in that regard. But new clothes or not, it doesn't matter. So as long as I have you, that is what I cherish most, that is what I want most, that is what I need most."

Your expression immediately softened, to the point that you looked near teary. "You jerk, don't be so perfect and sentimental with me!"

Chuckling in response, he brought his lips to yours once again. "I mean every single word, my love. But in the mean time..." Shifting away from you slightly, he proceeded to scoop you up into his arms. "What say you that we enjoy a nice bath together before you prepare to go to the festival tonight? I'll be especially happy to help you with your yukata."

Your arms wrapping around his neck, you nodded in return. "Sure, but only if you promise to go with me to the festival."

Yusuke smiled, leaning forward to press his nose against yours. "It would be an honor."

And with that, he carried you over to the bathroom. Insisting that he draw the bath for you both, he turned the faucet on while you proceeded to undress. As you went to dispose of your clothes in the laundry basket, he stiffened when he heard you muse, "I feel like...something's missing from my laundry."

Staring at the water, Yusuke only grinned to himself as he remarked, "Hmm, mysterious indeed."

[nyangibun]

Jonsa prompt: Sansa goes missing after she and Jon have an argument about what to do with his parentage

Heee okay!

I just hope this is up to scratch? I’m not sure of the ending but… here you go nevertheless! Thanks for another prompt!

Sansa had very specific smiles set for very specific moments. It was one of the first things Jon had learned about her upon their reunion. It was something new, something he had not encountered before in the woman. 

When they had been younger, mere wee things, green around the ears with dreams of knights and dreams of brothers in black respectively, she had one smile. It was bright and delighted in a way that was so wholly splitting it was infectious. Her laughter in the same breath was a tinkling sound, soft and melodious in the great halls of Winterfell. Jon would look towards the fiery-haired daughter of Catelyn Stark and feel envious of her easy joy; her delight in fanciful things; and the love that was so clearly vivid in her opulent gowns of her mother. All of which Jon never had. Joy was often marred with the all too familiar sense of loss and fanciful things were not afforded to the bastard son of Eddard Stark. 

But the worst of all, in that time he now considered too short and too fleeting, at Winterfell, the absence of a mother’s love had bereft him of the kind of smile that graced Sansa’s lips.

Now, time had stolen much of that easy joy and left her with an arsenal of smiles she kept at hand. Cutting smiles, impassive smiles; smiles devoid of feeling, only carefully maneuvered chess pieces in a never-ending game. Jon could not feel remorse in how she’d had to learn these smiles because for they had kept her alive long enough to return to him. She could smile a thousand smiles all of its meanings different from one another and no less sincere and he would still be glad for their ability to armour her from the realities of their world. 

But Sansa kept a special smile hidden. It was a minuscule twitch of her lips, so fleeting one could miss it, but no song or poem could aptly capture the warmth in that smile. No amount of prose on golden sunshines or warming hearths could truly do justice to the kind of smile Sansa saved for him. It was more than just beautiful; it was relief. It was the soft curve of hope, tinged pink by the promise of tomorrow. Jon could lose himself in the lines of her lips and still find new nuances to take his breath away. 

That was not the smile he had received though. This one, Jon suspected with wearying frustration, was also specifically set for him. The elegant purse and tilt was a resounding echo of Ygritte’s words, ‘you know nothing, Jon Snow,’ and after all these years, Jon did know nothing. 

Somehow the reunion with Bran, the reveal of his true parentage, had unburdened something greater and more despairing than Jon could understand. Surprise had flooded Sansa’s face, widening the blues of her eyes, the little ‘oh’ her lips made, but then surprise rescinded into happiness and then anguish. Jon could make as much sense of her emotions as he did of numbers and politics. When he asked her of it, she denied him her emotions. When he voiced his desire to step down as King of the North, she had said in that clipped, measured way of hers that he would do no such thing. And when Jon had pointed out the betrayal of the people were his true parentage ever to come to light, Sansa had suggested he tell them himself before anyone could beat him there, that Petyr Baelish still sought control of Winterfell, of her. Without missing a beat, Jon had reasserted his promise to protect her but that he could not in good conscience sit on the throne as a Targaryen. He would step down for Bran or Sansa; he would return to Castle Black once Winterfell was fully restored and safe.  

That was when she smiled that smile at him. She had said, ‘I will not be joining you for supper. Good night, your grace.’ and left without another word. She was angry, that much he was sure of, but to what end, he didn’t know. Bran had offered very little insight into his sister and so Jon left the boy for his chambers. If she would not come to supper, he would not either. 

Hours passed and the wind howled outside like a pack of direwolves relinquished to some unspeakable agony. He could not find sleep, not when Sansa was still furious with him, so he pushed the furs from his body and went in search of her. When her maids informed him she had not been seen since earlier that evening, Jon began to panic. Winter was here; didn’t she know that? Was she so furious she would risk its unforgiving cold to escape him? But even as he exited the castle, he knew where she was. He had found her there on many occasions but never in the dead of night when the air was so frigid it could rip the air out of the lungs of any man. 

The Heart Tree rose from a sea of white, its face more haunting now in the darkness. Its mouth opened in a silent, frozen cry for the lost Starks. Jon rubbed his hands in futility – warmth would not come to him in this winter – but it was not the cold that had stripped his lungs of air. It was the empty Godswood. The fresh layer of snow undisturbed even by a small critter. Sansa wasn’t here, hadn’t ever been here today, which meant she was still out there somewhere. 

Jon turned around and raced to the stables, disturbing a young stable boy in his haste. He grabbed the boy’s shoulders with urgency that would surely leave bruises in the morn. “Have you seen Lady Sansa, boy?” His teeth chattered, from fear or the cold Jon didn’t know and didn’t have time to sympathise. He shook the boy once more. “Have you!” 

“N-No, your grace. But her steed is missing.” 

That stupid, stupid girl. Jon ground his teeth and released the boy. He raced towards his own horse and pulled himself up, foregoing a bridle and harness. “Alert the guards. Have every available man searching the castle and the woods beyond. Lady Sansa is missing.” 

Jon steered his horse from the stables and signaled for the guard to pull open the main gates before he could reach it. The wind bit into his face like a braided whip against his skin. The temperature was nowhere near as cold as north of the wall but it would be enough to freeze a man or woman ill-prepared for this weather. But Sansa was smart. Surely, she would be okay. She had to be okay. There was no other option. Jon could not withstand a reality in which she would not be okay; he could not fail her as he had failed so many others. The world needed her smiles, all of them, every scathing one, every polite one, every quietly repulsed one; they needed her more than they would ever need Jon, because for all of Jon’s experience as Lord Commander, he was not equipped to be a king here in this world. He could not play politics the way Sansa could. He could not do any of this without her. 

The horse raced against the heavy flurry of snow. Jon could not see much beyond the white but his heart still beat and there was still blood warm in his veins. He would not cease his search. He would scour these lands until he found her, and when he found her, he would wrap her tight and promise never to argue with her again. Jon couldn’t even remember what they had argued about – something about his parentage. It all seemed so foolish now. If Sansa wanted him to stay on the throne then he would, the other houses be damned. 

But as he thought that, there was a distant voice in his head telling him that that was not what had bothered her, that for all she had argued with him on the matter, something else had angered her. Only what? Sansa was the most perplexing woman he had ever met. 

A flash of fire caught his eye. No ordinary flame could withstand the kind of snow falling from the sky. It must’ve been a trick of the light, a reflection of – Sansa. Jon raced towards the hilltop, the red billowing like flames growing closer and closer until he could see Sansa wrapped up in her fur cloak, lying on her side as the snow fell around her. Jon didn’t hesitate to dismount and cradle her into his body. When there was no immediate response, he carried her gently to the horse and swung up after her.  

The journey back to Winterfell was thankfully swift. Torches and lanterns flickered from all the rooms of the castle as the people searched for Sansa. Jon rode through the gates. “Call for the maester! Bring him to my chambers!” He halted the horse in front of the steps, dropped down and pulled Sansa back into his arms. She was cold, so cold her lips were blue in this light, and her body fell limply against him. Jon’s heart raged against his chest. Every tremulous pulse reminded him of Sansa’s weakening beat. 

Reaching his chambers, Jon quickly placed her atop his furs. He needed to get her out of her wet clothes but even in his urgency, he still had a sense of propriety and he could not take advantage of Sansa while she was unconscious. Jon ran from his chambers and called for her maids. He waited for what felt like hours outside his own room but was probably only a few minutes. Once the maids had finished changing her, the maester arrived and Jon found himself helpless to do much else. He stood in the corner of the room, staring, watching, praying with increasing desperation for her recovery. 

It was then in this state of frozen despair that Jon realised what he had not before, why Sansa had been truly angry with him, but maybe he had always known and only denied himself it for fear of what it would mean. Jon could see now how Sansa must have seen the news of his true parentage. While he had been wallowing in his own anguish, an age-old fear of never belonging, never being a true Stark, Jon had forgotten to see what being a Targaryen could truly mean. It could mean Sansa. It could mean acceptance of feelings he knew now they both felt as strongly as they felt the searing pain of winter. But his denial of it, of his throne, of Winterfell and his true father, was a denial of her. Oh, if only he could turn back the time so that he may sweep her into his arms as soon as the words left Bran’s lips and show her how he would – and could – never deny her. 

“Your grace…” Jon blinked, startled by the sound, and rushed to the old maester’s side. The man inclined his head in respect. “She is weak and I fear the cold has reached her lungs but I have sent for a brew that should help. If she is kept warm, I believe she will make a full recovery.” 

Jon exhaled in relief. He listened carefully to the maester’s instructions and refused the help of the servants in caring for her. She would not return to her own chambers. No, she would stay right here. Where she belonged, he quietly realised once Jon was calm enough to take in the sight of Sansa in his bed. 

The fire the servants had kindled crackled and hissed behind him. Jon slipped into the bed and angled Sansa so she was resting against his chest, lying in between his legs. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and offered his warmth for as long as she needed it. 

Jon could not tell when he had fallen asleep but he was being pulled awake when a soft hand cupped his cheek. He opened his eyes in an instant to see a weakened Sansa staring back at him. “Jon…” Her voice cracked and she coughed, turning her face away from him. 

He reached up to grip her wrist with one hand and tilt her chin to look at him with the other. “You should rest.” 

“I…” Sansa coughed once more into the sleeve of her dress. “I am rested. Jon, I must tell you something.”

“Then I must tell you something also.” 

There’s a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead and her skin was still as pale as the snow itself but Sansa was alive and that was all that mattered. He could face anything, even her, simply knowing that. 

“Let me say my piece first,” Sansa insisted and so Jon nodded in agreement. She inhaled deeply and shifted so she was settled more comfortably against him, her hands now resting lightly on his chest. “I’m sorry I ran away. There is no excuse for my reckless behaviour. I only wished to distance myself from…” 

“From me. It’s okay,” Jon assured her by tracing an invisible line across her cheek.

“It’s not, Jon,” Sansa shook her head. “You were being logical where I was being emotional. A Targaryen, whether he had grown up as Ned Stark’s bastard son or not, would still divide the houses. It is better now if you step down before someone can learn of your true parentage and let Bran become Lord of Winterfell.” She coughed again but she was not finished and she was stubborn enough to force her lungs to speak until her mind was heard. “But I was just so angry you would think of stepping down, to think yourself less worthy because of a name. I was mad that you would leave me here.” 

“Can I speak now?” Jon asked her and she nodded, her brows now creased in worry. He wished to soothe her but he had to say what he needed before he lost his nerve. “Sometimes I can feel it. Where they stabbed me. Sometimes I can feel the edge of the knives driving into my chest as if they were trying to cut out my heart.” Sansa shuddered and Jon raised his arms to pull her closer into his chest. “It’s a feeling unimaginable. Like dying again and again.” He chuckled softly, mirthlessly. “But today, nearly losing you, I realised that you have captured my heart and to be without you, to be without it, is a feeling worse than death.” 

Taking a leap he feared he might not recover from, Jon pressed his lips firmly against hers. He allowed himself to consumed by her touch, to relinquish his hold on whatever part of his brain that had denied himself from her for so long. 

Sansa’s fingers gripped the collar of his tunic and she pressed her body more insistently against him. When they eventually pulled back, both breathing as hard as if they had been racing through the snow, Jon discovered a new smile. There in the soft curves of her lips was a joy he had not seen since before they left Winterfell but it was also shy and curious. Jon kissed her again, more wanting than the last, and delighted in the flush in her cheeks. It was then Jon decided he would spend the rest of his life discovering every way he could make her smile for him. 

[writin-bout-games-blog]

Goty 2k18

Here are the best games I played in 2018; honorable mentions are for either games I played this year that released outside of 2018 or remasters that don’t count.

Honorable Mentions: 

Hollow Knight (PS4/Xbox One/Switch/PC) - I didn’t play this 2017 release until the Switch version this year, but it’s the best game I played in 2018, and maybe the best Metroidvania I’ve ever played as well. It has a bit of a slow start in terms of seeing new areas and gaining new abilities, but stick with it and it becomes one of the most rewarding games I’ve ever experienced.

Yakuza 0 (PS4/PC) - Narrative oriented games have never been my bag, but I’ve rarely felt this invested in a story in any medium. The characters are immediately memorable, at once both over the top caricatures of goofy hyper masculinity and oddly thoughtful yakuza members concerned with their community and just being human. I’ve never seen a story so masterfully jump back and forth between overwrought anime nonsense and down to earth character beats, all while retaining its unique sense of self. It’s a lovable soap opera starring handsome criminal boys with hearts of gold, and shouldn’t be missed by anyone.

Ys VIII: Lacrimosa of Dana (PS4/Switch/PS Vita) - This series has been around for decades, and I never gave it a glance until I heard a bit of the soundtrack for this entry. It lacks polish and has a pretty simplistic combat system, at least on the default difficulty setting, but it’s one of the most interesting JRPGs I’ve ever played, as the entire game takes place on a deserted island after a ship is destroyed by a kraken-esque creature. Oh, and the aforementioned soundtrack is absolutely delightful, with cheesy electric guitars around every corner. It’s the perfect game to unwind with before bed on your Switch.

Katamari Damacy Reroll (Switch/PC) - It wouldn’t be fair for the best game of 2004 to also be the best game of 2018, so it’s been excluded here. But make no mistake, this is the best purchase you can make this year.

Actual games of the year:

12. Far: Lone Sails (PC) - I fucking love games where you operate a large vessel by controlling a small character inside of it. I’m not sure how to describe this type of sub-genre, but Dragon Quest Heroes: Rocket Slime and Lovers in a Dangerous Spacetime are the only other examples I know of. And while those are fast, goofy, frenetic and colorful experiences, Lone Sails takes the concept and applies it to a linear, artsy indie game. And it turns out, making one of “those” indie games and coupling it with a fun and relatively unexplored gameplay conceit makes for an extremely memorable experience; the first time my train-shuttle-car-thingie reached full speed as I perfectly managed my fuel, steam and acceleration is something that’s stuck with me all year. The only thing keeping this game from rising higher up this list is that I think it’s painfully short at around 2 hours long, and I say that as someone that loves shorter experiences. A more fully fleshed out sequel or spiritual successor has the potential to be considered an all-time great.

11. Donut County (PS4/Xbox One/Switch/PC/iOS) - The soundtrack for this game alone is clever enough to deserve a spot on this list, honestly. And clever is the best word to describe Donut County as a (w)hole. Having not heard pretty much anything about the game going in besides general good word of mouth, I was genuinely stunned as I realized the entire game was nothing but moving a hole around and growing bigger as I sucked up objects in a stylized world. In all respects, this game feels like the western equivalent of Katamari Damacy, though there are probably some poignant think pieces to be written comparing Katamari’s building with Donut County’s destruction. Regardless, Donut County is delightful. The humor may not be for everyone (I personally loved how accurately the dialogue captures the tone of texts between 20-somethings), but there’s something for everyone to enjoy here.

10. God of War (PS4) - God of War is interesting. It feels like a mish mash of pretty much all the non-shooter related hot trends in video games right now, and yet doesn’t really excel at any of them. The story’s fine, though I think both Spider-Man and Red Dead Redemption 2 told far more nuanced and interesting ones this year in the western-developed AAA space. The combat feels great for the first couple of hours, and BOY DOES THROWING THAT AXE AND RECALLING IT FEEL AMAZING, but encounters aren’t really changed up at all past the halfway point of the game, and the combat in general feels like it’s shown you its entire hand within a couple of hours. And yet, everything about the game is so memorable. From punching indestructible gods through mountains in the first 15 minutes of the game to hanging out with a sardonic decapitated head, I feel like this is the most I’ve thought about an action game after completion besides Bloodborne. It doesn’t hurt that this might be the best looking game I’ve ever seen, either. It might just be the meatloaf and mashed potatoes of video games, but it’s some pretty damn good meatloaf.

9. Monster Boy and the Cursed Kingdom (PS4/Xbox One/Switch/PC later) - There are plenty of sidescrolling indie metroidvania throwbacks these days. Oddly, there’s also been a fair few games in the oft overlooked Wonder Boy vein lately, the series Monster Boy belongs to. There aren’t a lot of downright pleasant games made in this style lately though, and pleasant is the perfect word to describe the time spent exploring this game. The visuals are absolutely gorgeous, the soundtrack is second only to Celeste this year, and the game somehow manages to feel like playing a Master System game without all of the drawbacks a statement like that would normally entail. What holds this game back from true greatness for me is that some of the later dungeon and boss designs are remarkably unclear in their progression, mostly the haunted mansion area. That said, these are relatively small complaints in a surprisingly large adventure, and the different animal abilities are truly brilliant. Monster Boy occupies the same space for me as last year’s truly incredible SteamWorld Dig 2, and if that doesn’t sell you on the game then nothing will.

8. Yakuza Kiwami 2 (PS4) - Everything stated above in the Honorable Mentions section applies here; Yakuza is a series about lovable handsome crime boys playing the role of boy scouts in their community, if the boy scouts kicked motorcycles at bad guys. I will say that Kiwami 2 never approaches the pure brilliance that was Yakuza 0, but most of that can largely be attributed to the fact that this game is a remake of a 12-year-old video game from two console generations ago. And don’t let that statement deter you; the story is as engaging as ever, and Kiwami 2 also shares with 0 the most fun game within a game I’ve ever played - the cabaret club management sim, which tasks you with recruiting hostesses to take on an evil circuit of club owners in a tournament of taking money from lonely Japanese businessmen. It’s as absurd as it sounds, and far more engaging than it seems, which kind of summarizes the series as a whole. My only caveat with this entry is that I would consider it absolutely crucial to play through 0 and Kiwami 1 before this, as there are some emotional seeds planted in those two games that come to tear-jerking fruition here.

7. Dragon Quest XI: Echoes of An Elusive Age (PS4/PC/Switch later) - With the sales and reception of both this and Octopath Traveler, 2018 seems like the year in which throwback JRPGs came into vogue, and I couldn’t be happier about it. I grew up loving the genre, but post high school my love largely faded for any of them that weren’t Pokemon or Mario adjacent. While I still think there’s a lot of self reflection for the genre to accomplish that Dragon Quest is existentially incapable of doing (as its own design and fandom have prevented it from making any meaningful mechanical progression in decades), DQ11 succeeds in that it’s just a really fantastic video game. Its story is always captivating and repeatedly goes in directions I never expected. Its characters are simple and painted in broad strokes (I mean that in the best way possible) while remaining some of the best written and most engaging party members I’ve ever encountered. And its battle system is oldschool, somewhat archaic and even punishing without ever feeling unfair, and it has just enough new mechanics to constantly give the player a wider swath of options than the series has ever had before without relinquishing the series trademark simplicity. It’s the most I’ve enjoyed a tradition JRPG since Chrono Trigger, and I was never once bored in my 70+ hours of playtime. Really, the only complaint I can level against the game is that the series composer is a monstrous piece of homophobic trash that deserves to be launched into a brick wall via trebuchet.

6. Mega Man 11 (PS4/Xbox One/Switch/PC) - Who would have imagined that a new Mega Man game under contemporary Capcom could end up being great? The soundtrack is extremely disappointing and the Wily stages are a series lowpoint (especially when compared to the previous two Mega Man games), but everything else in this game is operating at heights the series has never previously achieved. The mark of a good Mega Man game is how versatile the robot master’s weapons are within the actual platforming segments, and 11’s level and enemy design are completely built around using these weapons and the new double gear system as well, which allows a player to increase their firepower or slow down time at will. Every ability is not only useful but fun to use as well, even the obligatory shield weapon. Much like what last year’s Sonic Mania did for Sonic, there has never been a better time to try out Mega Man.

5. Call of Duty Black Ops 4: Blackout (PS4/Xbox One/PC) - The way in which the battle royale genre has overtaken video games is remarkable, though not as remarkable as the fact that a Call of Duty game is being included on one of my game of the year lists. I could go deep into how Blackout feels like a best-of compilation for the genre, or how remarkable it is that it retains the goofy, unpredictable nature of PUBG while actually feeling like a polished video game. But what’s most notable about the game for me is just how much fun I’ve had playing it with my friends. Video games mean a lot to me, and having a game in which our party chat can go from discussing poor life choices made by people we know to yelping as shots soar over our head as quickly as it takes for an armored truck to appear outside the house we’re hiding inside of is something truly special, and it’s something I’ve only encountered with this genre of games. Blackout may not add much of its own flavor to battle royale, and what little is there (the perk system and zombies) feels either broken or weirdly inconsequential. But sometimes, a less broken game with a slightly faster pace is all you need to become the most playable game of the genre, as well as the most I’ve ever enjoyed a multiplayer console shooter.

4. Super Smash Bros. Ultimate (Switch) - Smash is my all-time favorite multiplayer series, so the biggest character, stage and music roster to date makes this entry a no-brainer. I mean, I could spend multiple paragraphs absolutely gushing about how excited I am for all of the love the Castlevania series (another all-time favorite video game franchise) has received here alone. And that’s kind of the point. From Isabelle’s accidental murder sprees to K. Rool’s big belly rude boy moveset to Kirby sporting a beard after eating Solid Snake, with Ultimate it feels like nearly anyone that has ever played a video game can find something within that brings a smile to their face. And this is to say nothing of the over 1200(!) “spirits” in the game, all referencing even smaller and more obscure video game things. Will the game have an interesting competitive scene? I think so; I’m no pro, but the game feels so much better to me than any game in the series post Melee. Only time will tell how fun of a tournament game Ultimate ends up being, but as a celebration of the medium as a whole, this is a love letter to nearly all corners of the industry, no matter how niche. And that’s where my love of Super Smash Bros. has always stemmed from - its unflinching love and celebration of the things in my life that I love and want to celebrate. Plus, there’s Castlevania stuff in this one.

3. Tetris Effect (PS4) - Positivity in my life has been in short supply the past couple of years. To be more straightforward, the world has been an absolute fucking nuclear wasteland of hopelessness for the past couple of years. Hell, there’s an argument to be made that it’s been on this level for a while, and it’s my privilege that has prevented me from seeing that, which is even worse. My eyes have been opened, they cannot be closed, and while part of me wishes they could be, most of me can only stare with a grim sense of foreboding and wonder where the hell we’re going and how we fix all of this. So, Tetris then.

Tetris is simple and Tetris can be overwhelming. Add psychedelic visuals, spac- Enya-world music and the option to experience it all in virtual reality, and you have something simple, something overwhelming, and something oddly powerful. To say I had an emotional response to Tetris Effect is an oversimplification. Losing myself inside of my VR headset to clearing lines while dolphins made of light surrounded and splashed around me was beautiful, ridiculous, cheesy and, somehow, empowering. I’m under no illusion that the world is going to get better  while I hide inside, literally blind to everything going on around me, and no one should be. But the best art never was able to save us; it reminds us of what there is to lose and why the things we love are worth fighting for while also giving us the strength to do so. This sounds like a lot for what basically amounts to Tetris with cool music and visualizers, and I get that. But while writing and editing this piece, not only do I not feel like any of this has been hyperbolic per my experiences, re-reading my own words really just makes me want to play some more damn Tetris Effect.

2. Celeste (PS4/Xbox One/Switch/PC) - If Tetris Effect is your overly positive friend that can seemingly never be brought down by anything, Celeste is the friend that’s been through more than you could ever imagine and came out through the other side a better person, and not only knows you can as well, but actively pushes you to be the best you can be. This is both narratively true, as the surprisingly great story deals with depression and self-loathing and overcoming anxiety, but also what the game beats into you through your own act of playing it. Well, “beats into you” might be putting it lightly; “gently yet forcefully stabbing into you” is a bit more accurate. Yes, the game is an unbelievably hard platformer (at least on the B and C side levels), and it does take a lot of inspiration in its design from fellow platformer classic Super Meat Boy. But while Meat Boy makes your repeated deaths part of the punchline, Celeste prefers those failures to be recontextualized as experiences to be learned from. “You’re going to beat this level, and you’re going to beat this game. Just keep trying.” is what Celeste wants you to take from its harsh design. And maybe that kind of motivation doesn’t work for everyone, but the people that stick with the game found what will go down as one of the all-time greats in the genre, and certainly one of the best games of the decade.

Oh, and the soundtrack is fucking incredible too.

1. Monster Hunter World (PS4/Xbox One/PC) and Monster Hunter Generations Ultimate (Switch) - I knew something special was happening when I saw multiple Playstation friends who usually only play Call of Duty and sports games devoting dozens (or even hundreds) of hours to Monster Hunter World this year. I was skeptical, having tried to get into the series previously on the 3DS, but something just clicked this time that hadn’t before, and soon I was farming Nergigantes for entire evenings. The game was full of nothing but memorable moments, but realizing for the first time how the insect glaive worked and flipping through the air whacking a giant electric flying squirrel as we were both being chased by a fire breathing t-rex was the most out of control I’ve ever felt playing a video game while simultaneously being the coolest thing I’ve ever done in a video game. And to revisit that same scenario over a hundred hours later, armed with the knowledge that only experience can give of how to actually control my insect glaive flips, was one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve ever had. All of the knowledge gained from World was then taken to MHGU on the Switch later this year, where my girlfriend and I put over 200 hours in and still have not seen all of the content within. If two grown adults sitting in a hotel room and screaming with delight when they see how cool the weapons they can forge from hunting a bubble dragon are isn’t an indication that their families should seek help, it means that Monster Hunter is pretty great.

So which game is better? My heart of hearts tells me World wins out by an inch for its extremely intelligent streamlined design and accessibility, but MHGU has dozens and dozens (and dozens and dozens) of different monsters to hunt and hundreds of weapons and armor sets to choose from, and having a full blown Monster Hunter on a portable with a decent screen and dual analog sticks is a great argument for the Switch entry. Really though, it doesn’t matter; these are both amazing games, and I wanted to give them both their due without using two slots. If weirdos on your friends list you haven’t talked to since high school who usually only buy FIFA can fall in love with Monhun, so can you.

[datinginthedot]

New year, old relationship

I originally wrote this post on November 4th, the two month mark of my relationship with Mr. Handyman. I was absolutely smitten and never ended up posting it as we were were just too infatuated with each other to spend a moment apart. HE was my priority- not my silly little dating blog!

After everything that has transpired this past weekend (spoiler alert) I feel incredibly upset rereading this. What happened!? 

At the time this is how I felt and what I wrote:

No one wants to hear me win and have the best life. No one wants to hear about our passionate make out sessions or him being the absolute sexiest [handy]man in the world… no one wants to hear how he gazed into my eyes and told me all the things he loved about me. No one wants to hear how I’m in a very happy place in my life having a normal time doing normal relationship things with a normal guy (read: better than average ie great).

But if you do care to hear about some of my success in the dating world you can continue to read on.

Everything between me and Mr. handyman has been a dream. I've never been with someone quite as attentive and caring towards me. He doesn't need to tell me how much he loves me, although he has (more on this later) because I can feel it through his touch and actions. When we go out he lets me be the life of the party. He may be more reserved but he's the ying to my yang. He listens to my every word and legitimately cares to hear what I have to say. The mutual respect is strong and I never have to question our level of trust.

What I like most is the amount of quality time we spend together. We can see each other for five days in a row and there is never a dull moment. Whether we are going to a concert/event together, watching a movie, going for cocktails or buying a TV from Best Buy everything is so effortless. In fact, I kind of like the mundane moments the best. I LIKE going grocery shopping/cooking and driving around in his truck. I LIKE the way he wants to hold my hand while driving. Or the way our knees are touching when we eat dinner or the massages he’ll give me while watching a movie. He is so absolutely adorable and makes me feel so genuinely loved. Plus he looks like an Italian male model so I'm also fine with that.

Sometimes I think— that's it, i've won the game (the game being dating). It's pretty soon- but in this month so many things of happened. We have practically spent almost every day together and this is not something I see ending anytime soon.

Plot twist: Earlier today, we broke up.

To be honest, the wound is fresh but I feel like writing this post will help me come to terms with it.

The bottom line is that my intellectual needs were not being met. I live for stimulating conversation about big-picture ideas and just enjoy general discussion. Something I mentioned to him on more than one occasion.

That said, you can’t change someone. Nor did I want to.

After landing my dream job at the end of a five-week-contract (officially beginning Jan 3rd) my life has changed. I have serious goals and am surrounded by highly motivated individuals.

My goals do not revolve around living on my moms couch, smoking cigarettes/weed on a frequent basis or ‘thinking goals are stupid’.

I strive to be the best I can be in all aspects of my life. I want to surround myself with inspiring people who can add value to my existence and achieve my personal vision of success before I’m 30. I recognize where I am now and where I need to be... and I will get there.

During our relationship I noticed that whenever something important happened to me, the first people I wanted to tell were my friends... not my boyfriend red flag #1. The reason being that he would probably just respond with “cool” or his classic “I don’t know” said with the intonation of a grumpy 12-year-old boy.

I wanted more out of my relationship yet at the same token couldn’t expect him to change. To be fair, he had been consistent from the day I met him in regards to intellectual curiosity. What made me think he would suddenly develop a mental tenacity to learn now?

The straw that broke the camels back was this past New Year’s. He invited me to his house for a house ‘party’.

Earlier that day, I came to the realization of just how empty I felt. Despite being a in a relationship I was mentally lonely. Over the day my feelings transpired into resentment. It didn’t help that I met someone in a coffeeshop with my mom (lol) that sparked my intellectual curiosity. He engaged me in a conversation that checked off all of my ‘ideal conversation’ boxes. We talked at a high-level about the acceleration of technology, societal advancements, human-nature, the future of design and travel. For the first time in months I felt like I was having a conversation with another male that was adding value to my life. Though there was no sexual attraction I still gave him my number to continue our conversation. We are meeting for coffee tomorrow. But I digress, the point is- the lack of engaging conversation in my relationship made me feel resentment.

My feelings were brewing and by the time I arrived to the ‘party’ (which encompassed Mr. Handyman's MOM, fabulous brother, stunning sister and a sprinkling of friends) I was beside myself. 

For starters, I walked into a silent room of everyone about to do some orange-flavoured jello-shots. The vibe was just off. I sat at the kitchen table camouflaged with almost every carbacious finger food under the sun. Handyman’s mother was a cooking machine constantly replenishing the spring rolls, mini spinach quiches and cheesy ‘za. 

I noticed that every 10-15 minutes everyone would go outside to smoke weed and cigarettes. Because I wasn’t interested in either I stayed inside making small talk with the mom. The cycle of indoor snacking sessions followed by miserable smoking ones continued. I hung around for just short of 2 hours.

This ‘party’ was simply DISMAL. That’s the only way to put it. The look on everyone’s face was somber and I’ll never forget looking at one of the friends who stared at the ground mouthing the lyrics to an Anti Rihanna song while stirring the straw in her blue solo cup glumly.

This last week our relationship was strained (re: Christmas festivities) and due to my pent up hostility, sitting at that table I could feel myself on the verge of exploding. I was shaking out of anger. WHY WAS I THERE?! WHAT VALUE WERE THESE DEADBEATS BRINGING ME?!

I could go on forever about all of the nuances that made my blood boil but ultimately at 10:45pm I had to leave. I seriously HAD to. It wasn’t an option to stay. I rather make a clean break than burst into tears ruining my perfectly-applied glitter and double-stacked lash NYE makeup. I didn’t consider the feelings of my ‘boyfriend’, his mother or quite frankly any of the other individuals at the party.

I called an Uber and luckily when no-one was on the porch I made my getaway. 

After I departed, nine missed phone calls were interspersed with the following messages. I made sure to turn off location sharing immediately:

Maybe I should have answered, or even responded with a cool ‘I had to leave. Let’s talk tomorrow’ text. But I did not. I went to my friends house where I proceeded to do a scandalous outfit change from my nun-style dress to some plunging-neckline Kim K body con realness.

I felt great.

The rest of my night was great.

I woke up to the following two texts:

*You’re

In contrast with:

...Skeptical of the “1/2″ numbering scheme (do people still have text messaging limits in 2017?!) I appreciated the message from the guy I had met at the cafe.

Back to the topic at hand: Later today Handyman came over to drop of the keys he had to my apartment (long story short he had my moms spare) along with the bar tools I accidentally left at his house in my hasty exit.

Finally convincing him to sit down we talked it out. 

I didn’t mean to be wishy-washy but it was hard in the moment. I explained how I wasn’t happy... yet I didn’t want to let him go. I wanted to break up yet I also longed to hug him. 

He was PISSED. He explained how everyone at the party viewed me as a ‘controlling bitch’ because I made the sentiment “you can smoke all you want... I just won’t date you” alongside other uncalled for remarks.

Do I regret my actions? Absolutely not. The relationship ran it’s course and he was not adding value to my life.

Was I wildly attracted to him? Absolutely. But his intellect was lacking for me. I’m not saying he wasn’t smart but in the context of engaging discussions... simply put, there were none. I didn’t even care WHAT he talked about, I just wanted to feel close to him in some verbal capacity! I tried to watch movies and spark a preceding conversation. Nope. Send articles to discuss, nope. Talk about current events.. again, just nothing.

Breakups are never easy. There is no ‘good way’ to do it. It was hard seeing him burst into uncontrollable tears sobbing wildly into my neck. Tugged at the heart strings if you will. Cue the waterworks on my end. In fact cut to both of us sobbing- kleenex’s being pulled out of the box by the dozen. Thanks Costco! It was disorderly!

After a long poignant embrace by the door, I kissed his cheek softly and said goodbye.

I feel bad for the guy. He has a heart of gold but we just weren’t a great match. I think our best lives consisted of different things. I wasn’t happy and I didn’t want to change him. I think that’s fair! Moreover, I didn’t want to lead him on any longer after my realization.

I also recognized that the second I felt more negative emotions coming to the forefront than positive ones... I know a change needed to occur.

Though I suspect our grieving processes will be vastly different from one another I truly hope he is okay. Like I said, I do not hold any animosity towards him but the thought of him with another girl makes me feel sick.

But hey, I think that’s normal.

On the positive side thanks to Mr. Handyman for installing my TV, painting my wall, putting up a hook in my bathroom, making me a custom cutting board and most sentimentally, spending over 30+ hours carving me a beautiful heart shaped box for Christmas...

Fuck I miss him.