#might be a case where its slowly becoming not for me i guess?

[perenlop]

how being a hater about a beloved choice a dev made feels

[jolalibrary]

12. stormy sky

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter twelve of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.6k chapter warnings: anxious!reader. allusions to bad mental health day/sadness. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: this one is dedicated to all those who sometimes just need a day, a hug and a love. i see you, and i love you (notes at the bottom).

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It wasn’t often you felt the storm coming before it arrived.

At times, it was kind enough to make itself more obviously known than on other occasions. Sometimes, it just happened, almost beyond your control—a feeling that wells up inside, leaving you in a funk for a day or two.

An unexplainable force that commands you to smile outwardly but crumble inwardly.

Then, you rise again the next morning, or in a few, completely anew—like nothing had ever happened.

Occasionally, it rides in on unexplainable sadness that follows you like a rain cloud, spreading out into swelling grief that chokes you from the inside out. Other times, it would be a headache that bloomed behind your eyes into something uncontrollable, unmanageable, that only settled with bedsheets and darkness.

As soon as the email appeared in your inbox, you felt the latter. It throbbing, pulsing—beginning somewhere between your second to final nerve.

Things shifting; a wave forming. One which rose inside of you when you weren’t aligning with the person you were working with. It growing. Swelling. Expanding inside of you to the point you were sure it was going to dislodge bone and deform you forever. The words on the screen slowly blur, barely discernible as sentences and not just another paragraph of failure.

You knew this could happen. From time to time creative visions weren't always going to align. A thing you reminded yourself of regularly, routinely. Telling yourself it in the shower, mirror or as you make your third coffee past midnight.

It never does lessen the sting, though.

Just like now, when your hand can't seem to stop slamming the lid of your laptop shut, or when you find yourself nervously nursing your lower lip between your teeth, a bubbling sensation begins within. Your mind fractures, allowing a flood of negative thoughts to pour forth, corroding, spewing and slathering itself over everything good.

You clutch at your phone, feeling the rubber of your case. Not even thinking; not even checking the time—just calling.

And hoping.

Waiting.

As soon as you hear his sunshine-like voice say your name and 'Are you okay?' (practically spoken as one word), you feel yourself take a breath.

Becoming aware, only then, of how damp your cheeks are, that your hand is shaking as he repeats the question, more gently, less dunked in worry.

Surprisingly, it feels easy to say no. To unravel silently to him as he asks you a question you rarely have been asked: 'Do you want to talk about it or something different?'

It’s small, a simple thing. But your heart swells. Your shoulders unlodge themselves from your ears and your spine softens, making the choice, all with far too much ease. Taking in the sound of his voice as he clears it, you hear him ask lowly and gruffly if you're comfortable before he begins explaining how he has a non-permanent tattoo of a creature on his arm.

Not a dinosaur, Rainy. Not even something born or created from Jurassic Park—and how he was worried that due to its placement, people would think Harold’s had become rougher, more dangerous business.

“Dangerous?”

You swear you hear him shrug. “People might see me, all tattooed up and think the worst of the place.”

Giggling, your fingers massage your head. “Where is it?”

“Guess.”

For a brief moment, like when light shines from behind the clouds, you grin. Guessing, naming body parts you know it couldn’t be, but only to hear his laugh—bathe in the joy that he can only summon, rinse your woes in it in the hope tomorrow you wake lighter.

“Ass.”

“They’d definitely think Harold’s had fucking changed if my ass is out baby.”

Smirking, climbing into bed (his advice, one you happily took). “I think I’d visit more. It’s peachy.”

Peachy he scoffs, but you swear he’s grinning. Adjusting the t-shirt as you lie down—one of his, stolen (with permission) from the drawer you’d made for him, taking in the scent of him, all musk, wood and man as you welded it with the voice as you discover it’s on his cheek.

“How are you going to explain that one?”

His laugh flows down the phone, meeting your ear as you lean against your pillows, trying (with all that you have) to almost convince yourself that he was here—and not streets and streets away.

Morning, guess what doesn’t come off with soap and a scrub? A monster.

Hope you slept okay, baby. Can bring a coffee round on my break. Can even see if I can sweet-talk a larger one for you. Put it in a flask.

Rainy, you awake?

Baby I don’t mean to worry, I bet you’re fine, just busy caught up in doing work, but just let me know you’re okay.

I have the spare key still from that delivery. If you don’t want to see me, tell me.

You’re not sure of the time—drifting on wood out at the sea of your own making. Having done so for a while.

Distantly aware of the passing of time. That it was no longer 3 am, which had been the last time you'd last checked the time. The sun is far too bright through your curtains; desperate to claw its fingers in and yank you from your sheets.

It doesn't, can't.

Instead, you're floating; lost somewhere between awake and asleep—only being disturbed, rocked from it, at the sound of your front door opening. The stiffness of the door, the squeak of a floorboard. All things which should fill you with alarm, but barely make your head move.

Because it's thumping.

Pounding.

Too much stuffed in there to do anything but lie there. Split at the seams, the rest of you shaken like a snow globe.

It crosses your mind—briefly—that if they were here to rob you, they’d find very little to take. If they were here for you, they were most definitely mistaken. Your eyes struggle to stay open, even if your ears are tuning, trying to twist to each noise, only relaxing when you hear the intruder mutter fuck.

Because you know that fuck. Know the exact voice as though it lives in your head with the one that wouldn't quiet at 3 am.

For the most part, you have to admit Frankie is quiet. A skill he likely gained from his former life, the one where it was a necessity. He just didn’t know your home. You only being able to tell he’s here from the little things, like that he’s not completely aware your front door gets a little stuck when it’s really warm and that some floorboards are looser than others.

In the same way, he doesn’t know that if you open your partially shut bedroom door slowly, it groans like it’s being personally offended—

“Mierda.”

You’re sure you croak a Hi Frankie.

You think it anyway; wanting to give an invitation to come closer, to move further in as your eyes try to focus on the money tree named Moana. With each blink, the leaves slowly come into focus as you begin to adapt to the brightness cast in by, what you now assume must be the afternoon. Blinking when you see him crouch down, all soft curls and silky brown eyes.

“You worried me.”

Swallowing, struggling to shove the dryness back, you clear your throat. “Headache.”

He’s gentle, slowly placing his palm on the side of your head, thumb brushing over the skin above your brow as he shifts in his crouched position. “Worse than that time you told me about?”

“About the same.”

It’s quiet, the way he answers with okay. Thumb doing a final swipe before you hear a pop of his knee as he stands, a mumble of Be right back, baby before the floorboards creek and you can hear him opening and closing cupboards in your kitchen. With a sigh, you close your eyes briefly, being roused by a gentle breeze caressing your cheek to find he'd returned, a glass of water in one hand and a crinkling packet in the other.

“Do you want to get in?”

“Sure,” he says, in the familiar deep voice—as you shuffle with ease.

Not daring to lift your head, to move too quickly or violently. The mattress dips as the bed groans when he throws his feet up, sliding into the warmth you’ve been creating for hours, finding his eyes—how that worry is still there. It swirling, likely mixing with the gold flecks and deep browns you admire every chance you can get.

You worry you've spoiled them, tainted them. Made them swirl with sadness caused by worry. And the thought makes your insides hum, as though someone has plucked all your strings. The twang of it trying to mix with the other emotions you don't feel equipped to unpiece.

“I’m s—”

“Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says, firmly. Not accompanied by any smile.

A thing you know he means when he asks you, voice wrapped in satin, if you can take a sip for him. His arm slides around you, trying to pull you close as you do more than that, but rather consume, drain, and finish the glass.

When you hand it back, you think about the fact that a you with your head not coming apart might have teased him, might even throw your leg over his and asked him if he thinks sex gets rid of migraines like it does headaches. But, the words catch, stick and clag to the roof of your mouth.

Something rising, the emotions you’d shoved down trying to weave up. Climb. Stick their spikes into your oesophagus and crawl out your mouth. That is, until his palm spreads out, the width of his fingers sliding further up and along your spine. The act aiding you, guiding you to take a measured breath. One that stammers, hammers. One that floods inside of your chest, rising and rising like it wishes to crash against a beach and take everything to shore—

But, then it eases, calms.

All being gobbled back up, calmer waves lapping as you shift, seeing him lit by muffled, golden yellow. Listening to his heart, the breaths he takes as you try to follow them—even the scratching of his beard as he tucks himself closer and asks nothing, except silently, to be here.

Eventually, when you stop counting seconds, the quiet is broken—not rudely, or unnecessarily, but just with: “What can I do?”

“You’ve done it.”

Turning to see him—to find the gaze you know will already be on you. To look at the face you think of and have truthfully only wanted to see, there. You begin to explain, letting it all unravel, it unspooling from your tongue. Maybe sharing too much, like that no one you’ve dated has shown up like this before, and that you don’t ever expect him to do it again.

Shifting closer, as you continue talking, eyes closed to not aggravate what is trying to lessen, as you add extra context, sharing what happens, that you’re okay—but that sometimes you’re not. Statements, mainly. Likely broken sentences you somehow mash into paragraphs. Filling in the gaps, from the last weeks to now, to the email and then the call. How it happened—

“Maybe it’s because I’m happy.”

“Hmm?”

Shrugging gently against him, your chest fills with air before you exhale it in one long drag through your nose. “Maybe because I’m happy, my work isn’t that good.”

“Maybe.” His fingers find your chin, turning your eyes to his. “Or maybe he’s got very high expectations and the two of you just aren’t a good fit.”

Chewing your lip, you lower your gaze. “Yeah, maybe.” Unconsciously turning into the palm resting on your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek as you dare yourself to find his eyes. “I really hate people sometimes.”

Snorting, you feel his lips press to your forehead. “Let me tell you about this fucking asshole who tried to tell me the white paint he was buying wasn’t white.”

You press yourself closer to him ready to listen, hand sliding across his middle as you grasp more of his shirt, finding the smallest smile trying to crack through.

The next time you wake it’s to the smell of breakfast.

There's humming too, occasional words floating from the kitchen through the open door of your bedroom.

A coy smile already tugging across your cheek, the storm having waned, moved to the distance. But still, you test to see if it's safe as you lift from the pillows—sleep rubbed from your eyes as you spot the crumpled side of the bed. See the empty glass you’d drank before he held you, the jacket he’d been wearing when he’d showed up impromptu folded on the floor near the dresser.

Then, the grossness hits. The awareness that your skin feels claggy and awful, shuffling your feet from the bed, all the way to your bathroom.

His t-shirt peels from you with reluctance. The sadness eventually glides down the drain as the water falls down your skin—stepping out feeling refreshed.

Smiling as you head down the hallway, not forcing a smile as you slide your hands around his waist, fingers moving under the band of his tee, as they stroke over soft, warm skin and the dark hairs that swirl across his middle.

“Thank you,” you say, the words so large you hope they land with the weight you intend them to.

He turns and kisses you, whispering a don't against your minty mouth. Hovering for a moment there, before his mouth finds you again, more hungry, more laced with words as he presses you against the counter. Nowhere to go as he tilts your chin up. “You're worth showing up for, Rainy.”

You swear your heart triples in size as you bury your face in his tee and grin something stupid against him as he continues to sing whatever is playing out loud on his phone.

Do we need to go furniture shopping before or after you put the shelving in?

Probably before in case we need to order things. How’s your mini project coming along?

Well, I followed this tutorial by this very handsome man, and it seems easy to do, but my kitchen shelf isn’t straight.

Did you follow all of the instructions?

Now why would you assume I didn’t?

Because it sounds like you didn’t make sure it was level, baby.

Rude.

But did you?

I may have assumed that my eyesight was good.

How many holes do I need to fill in?

Oh, just the one.

In the wall.

Oh. Eight.

Since the moment he picked you up, you've been buzzing with excitement, just as you have been all week since he told you where he was taking you.

A skip in your step when you locked your door, the sun warming your skin in the short walk to the door he'd opened for you. Remembering how he teased you on the phone last night—you made a Pinterest board of what it could look like?—as you sat cross-legged on the couch, listening to him, shaking your head at the camera.

He handed you the coffee—brewed and made by him—only when you were seated. Another thing you were also sure had added to the swirling excitement in your stomach.

The drive, thankfully, hadn't been long. Undoing your belt when he kills the engine, his palm pressing down on your knee.

“No plants.”

“Are you asking me, or are you telling me?”

Leaning across the centre of his vehicle, he pulls your lips to his. “A very polite ask.”

“You don’t fancy your own Benedict or Henry?”

The tip of his nose touching yours, “I really don’t.”

You suggested other names as the two of you walked to the store's entrance, hand slotting inside his. Only silencing from your torment when your footsteps echoed softly against the glossy tile floors—blending with the rumbles of distant, murmured conversations, phone rings and furniture being rearranged.

Suddenly, the two of you were enveloped in the scents of polished wood and fresh upholstery, a scent you’re sure you used to like, but now really freaking loved.

Because this place is nice. The soft glow of overhead lights bathed the showroom in a warm, inviting ambience—casting a gentle spotlight on each carefully curated display. It was a scene straight out of a home decor magazine—every homeowner's dream.

"C'mon, Rainy," he coos, guiding.

Adding a soft this way from the back of his throat, becoming aware of his fingers brushing over the back of your jeans—along the pockets, along the expanse of your ass as you eye him, finding that same shy smirk that could explode into something more devilishly and ridiculously hard to resist.

A thing he already is without trying.

A thing which worsens when his arm comes around and keeps your side flush to his as the two of you make the way to the rows and rows of desks.

It makes sense to begin here.

To choose the ‘centrepiece’ of the room—as Frankie had explained on the drive—because everything has to fit around it. A thing you’d teased that you thought he was good at making things fit. To which he’d, playfully, replied that he was good, but he wasn’t fit-a-desk-and-a-dresser-an-armchair-and-shelving-good. A thing you'd promptly argued.

Stepping from his side, fingers brushing over the top of one, you glance over at them all. How they’re all vying for your attention, each with a unique allure. From sleek modern to rustic wood.

Catching Frankie's eye and with a mischievous grin, you take a seat behind one of the desks.

“Frank DIY’s office, how I can hammer you a good time today?” you say into the faux telephone, “Oh, I am sure Mr Morales would be able to… bend over and get himself in—I mean, you in.”

Frankie shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as you get up and sit behind another, typing on the desk as a keyboard, pretending to stare at the unplugged monitor that had no computer with it. Then moving to another, one with a desk mat and no other items than a plant that looks chewed by tiny teeth, before pulling yourself on the wheels behind one with drawers and a keyboard but nil else.

“Oh, hello sir. Your 2 o’clock is here.”

“Is that right?” he asks, folding his arms. “What am I doing for this appointment?”

Smirking, fingers poised over the keys. “They wish to know how to check if a desk is stable. For two people.”

You hear him take in a breath. Lips threatening to spread into a smirk before he clears his throat. “To work at?”

Shaking your head, you grin.

“I’ll have to call my assistant in. She’s a handful, bad with drilling, but, she can help me.”

Laughing, almost hiccuping from it, he stares down at you—palms still very flat against the desk—as it fades and spreads into a smile that hurts your cheeks. “There it is.”

“There’s what?”

“My smile.”

Eyes widening, you snort. “Your smile?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Mine.”

Rolling your lips, standing from the wheely chair, you raise your brows. Moving around the edge, fingers dancing along the wood until you’re standing perfectly in front of him—eyeing him, as always unable to take your eyes from him.

“I think I like this one,” you add, running the tips of your fingers over the smooth surface of the desk. “There’s no price though—or sizing.”

Frankie glances at it, eyes flicking from each of the sides as he likely does math gymnastics. “You’ll have a lot of space for your dresser—the butterscotch one.”

“You just know that do you?”

“Grab a measuring tape and I’ll confirm it,” he grins.

Hand on hip, you arch a brow as Frankie's laughter fills the air, but you can see it in his eyes, the challenge.

“Get it yourself, Morales.”

Pinching your ass, he walks around it. “I’ll remember that.”

Shaking your head, he snaps a photo of the desk—staring at his screen to check it before locking it. His hand offered to you.

“Chairs?”

Leaning close, voice dropping, you—all velvet-like— whisper, “Your face not on offer when I’m working?”

Pink spreads up his neck, tongue clicking against his teeth, he smiles. Grins. His fingers tighten around yours as you’re sure his eyes actually sparkle. “From the way you weren’t able to form sentences last time, not sure you’d get much work done.”

The chairs, for how colourful and varying they were, felt less fun than desk shopping. Most of them were out of reach, high up on shelves—having to assess whether they were as comfortable as they looked or if it was a lie. A game that got less and less fun the more you trailed.

Frankie, likely guessing your joy was wavering, grabbed a basket at some point—allowing you to peruse the mini plant aisles and other decorative things. For your shelves, he said, for the shelves, you replied, grinning, even as you grabbed a particularly wiry cactus you named Cisco.

“You think you’ve got at least one of everything in here?”

Fake laughing, your elbow confidently finds his side—hearing a gruff huff from him. “Almost. I just need—”

Eyes spotting it, body moving all of its own accord as though the required item had been lit under a spotlight and heaven-like noises had begun playing. Fingers gliding over each, brushing over fleece fluff that left marks of your touch, to more knitted, firmer types, too many choices all to be shared at, contemplated.

You feel it before you see it. Pain flaring from your side as your head whips—meeting the disgruntled face of another shopper, the end of their cart still firmly against your side as though somehow, you were the one who was required to move. Even after he’d practically rammed the cart into you.

“Hey man, watch it,” Frankie says, arm sliding around you, pulling you close.

The smallest of gaps made, created, between yourself and the offending cart. The pain throbbing, the embarrassment simmering, as you fight rubbing the impacted sight as it continued to pound, hearing:

And maybe, if you had looked across, you would have seen the man scoff—observed the expression that made Frankie tense even more protectively next to you You would have noticed why his usually soft smile shifted into a thin line as a storm brewed inside of him before you heard:

“She's the one in the way.”

An adult-like response if you've ever heard one. A thing you shake your head at, but reach your hand up to touch Frankie's chest, tapping lightly as you watch him visibly swallow whatever had been about to come out of his mouth. Instead, he mutters a few choice curses under his breath, shooting a silent but determined look to the person as they mumbled the most pathetic apology known.

But, you didn’t, don’t.

Because, if you had, you'd have missed the way it all vanished when his eyes met yours. How it was erased, wiped all clean. Every affliction on his face, from the hardened eyes to the twitch of his nose, slipped away back to its recess.

“You alright, baby?”

Not one blame placed on you; not even a thought to do so, as his knuckles brush your cheek.

“I’m fine, Butterscotch. It's nice to meet protective you, though.” His eyes shifting from you quickly, the deepest of reds flooding his ears, you flatten your hand to his chest. “I appreciate it.”

Meeting your stare, he swallows. “You sure you're okay?”

Biting the inside of your cheek when his palm, warm and spreading heat, begins stroking over the offended area, you nod. Grinning.

Because if anything, you're pretty sure you might be in love with him.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

notes: i've drip fed rainy's difficult client for a few chapters now, as well as her little wobbles with anxiety. i know this isn't everyone's experience, but i think we can all relate to those days when getting out of bed just feels hard. i hope you're all okay, and just know i'm always here. no one is ever alone when the grey clouds are overhead, even if they clouds hope to make us feel that way. ily all, jo.

[drghostwrite]

Saints and Sinners

Pairing: Alex Vause x reader

Summary: it’s always the things that you can’t have that make you want them even more. Detective reader meets a locked up Alex willing to trade info for freedom but what happens when they fall for each and the thing separating them coumd destroy your career.

Warnings: smut, minors DNI

******************************************************** A typical day at the office, but that was never the case for you, you were a detective so honestly there was no ‘typical’ day. Most days were murder and mayhem in all forms, today was no different, you found yourself walking through a women’s prison to talk to an informant.

You took off your guns and slowly walked down the hallways escorted by a guard, once you got to the interview room you took a breath before stepping in, you took slow strides towards the table and sat on the corner. You took in the woman before you slightly taller than you, similar build just a little less muscular, dark raven hair and striking green eyes, her black glasses and thin eyebrows, no make up other than what appeared to be eyeliner.

“Well this is different.” The raven haired inmate spoke.

“mm.. and how’s that?” You asked.

“Usually they send the tough guys.” She started almost mocking you.

“I’m pretty tough…”

“I’m sure you are, and you’re pretty.” She smiled and you chuckled back.

“Package deal.”

“And I’m sure that package deal got you enough catcalling when you walked through those gates.” She pointed out.

“Fair enough… so I heard you have something that might help my case?”

“possibly…” she said smirking at you and sitting very composed in her chair.

“Well I brought a deal, in exchange for trading us with intel we release you early on parole…”

“There’s always a catch so what is it?” She asked eyes narrowing.

“You would be my informant.”

“Give you intel in exchange for my freedom., an eye for an eye”

“sounds right up your alley.”

“can’t say your wrong, when do I start?”

“today… we leave now.” You said and a few short moments later you were escorting her outside where your partner and another car of two officers was parked.

“How much did you have to promise her to get her to come along?” One male officer joked.

“a night in her bed is all i would need…” the other said.

“Behave boys…” your partner finally spoke up towering over the other two men.

“Come on man, can’t say you haven’t thought of it.”

“I have enough respect not to.”

“Besides boys you know I would never swing that way.” You replied, and they both made faces annoyed and pouting.

You let her in the back and shortly after found yourself back at the station, “now that you have your informant you need to protect her.”

“thinking witness protection?

“well yea and no, technically we can’t put her in the program because they would wipe her clean no traces BUT if we could get round the clock supervision?” He said looking at you.

“oh you’re not suggesting?…”

“You wanted her as your informant.”

“But… to leave my house?”

“well..”

“Okay what if I housed her AT my house, it’s big and has a good security system, almost to good.”

“Y/N I’ve seen your house, it’s a fortress and its up to you, but you need to keep her close.”

“Fine, get her prepped and I guess she’s coming home with me.” You agreed and stepped out to gather some things.

A few weeks later and you were still adjusting to your new living arrangements, she was in the guest quarters while you were on your side of the house, she occasionally used your main bathroom but you mostly just checked in with each other during meals. You were becoming very close, you were earning each others trust and becoming friends.

You observed Alex more than you would’ve liked to admit, there was some chemistry between the two of you when working together. You loved how you always caught her lounging on your couch reading a book, occasionally coming home to find her sprawled her book having fallen to the ground as she was asleep, so you would grab a blanket and gently cover her. She was smart, smarter than most people let alone criminals, it attracted you to her and her sense of caring and how charming she could be, it always made you wonder if it was all a show. Little did you know that she was also attracted to you, your smarts and abilities, you could charm you way into and out of anything, you were caring and passionate and you made her wish she had never been a criminal. She wanted you more than anything and it felt like you were worlds away.

That is until one night…

“Ugh…” you left out an exhausted groan, lifting the glasses you wore and rubbing your hands down you face, you felt two hands come to your shoulder.

“Stressed?” A sultry voice asked.

“Something like that.” You said in a groan.

“What’s going on?” She asked snaking around the counter to dig through the fridge for the bag of grapes that you kept stocked.

“This case, the entire thing just doesn’t make sense, and I’m tired, and frustrated, and I can’t think straight.”

“sounds like someone needs to get laid…”

“Shut up Alex.” You grumbled as she snickered.

“just saying, tends to be a good stress reliever,” she chuckled again at your face that was turning red.

“Maybe just a shower…” you said standing from your chair and closing your laptop that sat on the island.

“Can I join?” She prodded, popping a grape into her mouth.

“Cute, Vause…” you said as you walked away, she watched the sway of your hips, the way your ass bounced in the pajama pants you wore, how you reached up running your fingers through your messy bun, the tight long sleeve your wore showing the muscles in your arms.

“Dammit, Avery…” she said under her breath watching you walk away, as she devised a plan to help you out. She waited until she heard the shower turn on and slowly made her way to the bathroom, seeing that the door had been left open, the only thing keeping you from her was the curtain.

carefully she started stripping away pieces on clothing, standing outside the shower naked, she slowly moved the curtain and stepped in behind you, the scent of your body wash filling her nose and she inhaled, she reached out and ran a hand over your back feeling you tense.

“Alex?” You whispered.

“Y/N,” she whispered in your ear, starting to kiss down the back of your neck, gently moving your hair aside. She slowly wrapped her hands around you turning you to face her. She looked into your eyes and then your lips before leaning forward and pulling you into a lip locking kiss, you felt her tongue and granted her access and she ghosted over your bottom lip.

“Alex…” you whispered pulling apart for air.

“you tell me if you want me to stop…” she said continuing down your neck. Her hand slid onto the small of your back pulling your bodies closer till they were flush against each other. Her lips found your sweet spot pulling a small moan from your lips before she moved down to your chest, pulling a taut nipple between her teeth before sucking on it.

“Baby I need words…” she said in a low sultry tone.

“Shit, Alex I could lose my job…”

“do you want me to stop?” She said her mouth still working on your breasts as her hand snaked down your back running along your butt that she squeezed and then onto your thigh, lifting your leg around her so she could ghost her fingertips over the smooth skin.

“Hell no…” you said a hand coming up to her hair, she lifted her head to pull you into another kiss, but this time you took control, pushing her away and turning the shower off.

“Y/n?” She asked slightly confused but you pulled her down into a breathtaking kiss, “we were getting to the good part.” She teased.

“Almost…” you said pushing her out of the shower, you didn’t bother with towels as you kept your lips locked guiding her towards your bedroom, pushing her inside and slamming the door closed with her body. You pulled her into a bruising kiss, her hands roaming your body as you pulled her closer one hand coming up to run through her hair. She reached down grabbing the back of your thighs and lifted you enough to carry you over and lay you on the bed.

“playing it rough?” You teased, moving back as she crawled towards you.

“who knew the prim and proper detective was such a freak in bed.” She said, bending down to open your legs, she placed small bites along the inside of your thighs. Her hands massaged your thighs before reaching up to play with your boobs, she placed kisses up your thigh teasing you. You looked down making eye contact and watching her as she mischievously grinned, you felt her drag her tongue up the inside of your thigh, you rolled your eyes as her.

Just for that she bent down her breath hot on your pussy, she pulled her tongue through your folds tasting you for the first time before pulling your clit harshly into her mouth, the pleasure jolted your hips against her and she reached a hand down placing it on your lower stomach keeping your hips still. She buried herself in you, her tongue was magic as she explored all of you. You started breathing more heavily, your moans more frequent as your hips tried to buck against her, one hand reached down and brushed Raven hair out of her face only to tangle in it when she looked up through hooded eyes, the other hand ran down her arm that was currently playing with hardened nipples.

“God you feel so good…” you whined.

“And you taste amazing…” she moaned out, pulling your clit in one last time letting out a low moan that vibrated through your core. She helped you ride out your orgasm as you laid there bodies still tangled together. You chuckled trying to steady your breathing as she grinned, wiping her arm in her elbow, your orgasm covering her mouth.

She slowly moved taking in your gorgeous body as it glistened with sweat and water from the shower that had been abandoned. She moved up as if she were going to leave but instead you reached out grabbing her and sitting up, you pulled her close against you, your lips finding each other.

“Y/N?” She sat up in front of you hands on either side of your head playing with your hair.

“I wanna taste you…” you whispered in her ear, running your tongue over the shell of her ear.

“are you sure?”

“just shut up.” You said heated kisses on her lips, you pushed her back until she was laying out in front of you. You placed kisses all along he body some would be seen tomorrow, she watched at first and then tried to reach you, to touch you but instead you grabbed her wrists and held them both above her head.

“Look but don’t touch…” you said bending down to kiss her again. You saw her eyes tracking you so you looked up as you moved down her body, you let your tongue pull a long swipe up between her breasts before pulling a nipple into your mouth, letting your tongue swirl. She bit her lip with a small smirk watching you.

she watched you move to her stomach where you placed more kisses, and licked again making her twitch beneath you. You moved down to right above her mound and placed kisses, moving into place you hovered over her clit, snaking an arm under her leg you pulled well manicured nails over the sensitive skin before lifting it over your shoulder. The smooth milky skin a contrast to your tan, she moved her foot, brushing it over your back.

“you’re teasing…” she whined pretending to be annoyed.

“well you know what they say about payback… she’s a bitch.” You said licking through her folds but stopping before you reached her clit. She went to reach her hands down to tangle in your hair and you pulled away. She moved them back in a defensive motion slightly annoyed that she couldn’t touch you like she wanted to.

“behave…” you said and she locked eyes with you, this time though you latched onto her clit, pulling a gasp from her lips that quickly turned into a moan.

“Mm… you do taste amazing.” You moaned into her sending shockwave to her core, you bent to let your tongue explore her and as you did, your nose pressed deliciously into her clit, her hips jolted against you pushing you closer. You reached up and placed some pressure right above her hips, hitting the spot, your other hands snaked up to grab her nipple but instead met her hand as she let go, she intertwined your fingers as her other hand gripped at your sheets.

you knew she was close as she moaned and her back arched off the bed, you squeezed her hand and applied a little pressure with the one on her lower stomach, going up and working your tongue around her clit, hearing her orgasm come over her, her loud moans turning into soft little pants.

“Shit Y/N…” she laughed.

“better than you thought?” You teased.

“it’s always better when it’s some thing you can’t have.”

“you know we can’t tell anyone, not yet at least…”

“keeping secrets is my specialty.” She said pulling you in for a kiss. You laid in you bed next to her before she wrapped an arm around you pulling you to lay on her chest.

“Do you think we could ever have a future?” She started.

“like together?” you asked.

“Like together, like a life?”

“I’m not sure, I mean technically once your a free woman, you can do whatever you want.”

“but as your informant…”

“It’s dangerous…”

“A risk is be willing to take.” She said and you sat looking into her eyes trying to figure out if she was serious before laying back down and wrapping an arm around her waist. Silence fell as you started to doze off exhausted from your work week, she slowly laughed, that signature laugh filling the room.

“what’s so funny?” You asked sleepily against her.

“I fell for a detective, what I thought was the enemy, I fell in love with you.”

“funny how that works…” you trailed, “love you to…” you sleepily ran a hand over her side to let her know you meant it before falling back asleep.

~it’s funny how bad you want something you can’t have, until you have it~

[dvzaiosamu]

Neko Lyney.

neko lyney x fem.reader. Topic: you basically rub Lyney's ears and play with his tail, whatever... You just treat him like a kitty.

hope you guys enjoy! I made this 'cause I saw some fanarts on pinterest about him as a catboy, and I couldn't help to make a short oneshot about him!

Magic, applause, curtain closing, a show at the top! The perfect combination that every magician wants to have in their shows. Lyney, young and playful magician with some feline characteristics. Cat ears, a feline tail, and personality traits, like: he liked to sleep more in the mornings than at nights.

It was not surprising that in Teyvat there were people with different feline characteristics, like his sister: Lynette.

After an arduous day full of quests and problems, your energy was depleted to the point that you couldn't last long without feeling exhausted. You walked home, to your warm home in Fontaine, where you suddenly remembered a very important detail,

"I forgot I left the spare keys of my house in a easy spot to find, shit... I hope no one finds them and breaks in," you though, with some uncertainty.

Suddenly you speed up your pace towards your house and go up a long ramp until you reach your door. You reach into your pocket for your keys and insert them into the sockets, twisting it to open it. You push the door and enter, slowly. You close the door behind you and feel a presence, but you weren't sure who it might belong to.

You decide to gently leave your adventurer's equipment on the furniture in the entryway. You went up the stairs with a silent and cunning step like that of a feline. As soon as you got up, you walked into your room with a yawn, and that was when you closed the door behind you and a familiar voice echoed,

"Hello again, spectator!" He joyfully utters what you turn around, startled and confused. “It's a joy to see you arrive! I thought the sun outside was enough to illuminate the room, but I see that now that another star has set foot here, I find myself captivated by how radiant you look today."

"Why did you sneak into my room out of nowhere, Lyney?" you ask him and his tail just wags to the sides in a relaxed and gentle manner, smiling.

"A good magician never reveals his tricks!" he pauses dramatically to take a step towards you. "I guess I can make an exception for you... Since it's not a big deal."

You remain silent, looking at him, waiting for his answer even if it was very obvious, but for some reason you wanted to hear it said, confessed and explained in depth. You cross your arms and generate a feeling of authority in yourself.

Lyney's ear flicks. "You see... Today I had gone to your house to visit you, but when I saw that you were gone, I remembered that you normally leave a spare key outside your house, and it seemed to be the case that you left them in a very bad place... To prevent intruders from entering, I kindly offered to take the keys and go inside to look for you, but not seeing you, I was too lazy to go out and stayed inside."

"You are definitely not an intruder..." you tell him sarcastically, rolling your eyes with a playful smile.

"But don't be mean, you won't throw me out of your house, right?"

"Be aware that you are breaking a law, more specifically, article 202: Whoever, without living there, enters another's house or remains there against the will of its resident, will be punished with a prison sentence of 6 months to 2 years," you tell him, your tone firm, but maintaining a playful tone.

"Well, well... You have decided to become interested in human rights, right?" A sly grin appears on his lips. "I don't think you're stone-hearted enough to shove away a poor abandoned kitten..."

"Now that you're here, no... I won't kick you out, nor report you. You're lucky to be close to me."

"Well... Thank goodness you're not as bad a person as they say." As if it were his home, he avoids you and walks, sitting on your bed crossing his legs. Seeing your annoyed expression, he raises his hands in defeat. "Just kidding."

"You better be," you snort.

Walking towards him, you take a place on your bed, and lie down on one side, your head resting on the pillow and the rays of sunlight coming from the sun pass through your window gracefully and prostrate themselves on your figure. Today was a hard morning, but it's the only thing you could do. Your priority now was to rest.

An unusual silence forms in the environment with the singing of birds muffled by the closed windows. You try to close your eyes, to have a proper rest even though Lyney is still doing his thing. In a flash, the young boy does not hesitate to play a joke and approaches you, hesitating for a few seconds whether to do what he intended to do. He sits next to you, his body in contact with yours. A light breath coming from him, but his heart racing slightly. His tail lands on your face, just to bother you and take away the feeling that you were going to rest.

"Lyney... What are you doing? Let me rest," you say as you sit on the spot, you lightly rub your eyes and look at him, he just responds with a smile.

"You already know that cats have healing effects. That's why I'm committed to helping you relax," Lyney explains to you, one of his ears flicking before, without even giving you time, he places his head on your chest, his weight making you lay down again. "You know what to do, right?"

"Are you saying you want me to pet you?" you ask, and Lyney nods, even though he knows he'll probably fall asleep before you.

One of your hands goes to his head and you gently begin to caress him. A small, silent but adorable feline sound is heard as a sign of having received the sensation. While you caress him, Lyney tries not to make the moment uncomfortable with the occasional pleasant sound, and only limits himself to purring and warming you with his body.

You had forgotten for a moment that cats usually have sensitive areas, and that is why you decide to change the area and start massaging behind the ears. His ears slowly lowering, giving you more access to pet him without having to move your hand much.

You hear how the purrs intensify and your body feels cushioned, you can't help but smile and let out a light giggle, but you don't realize that your partner had already fallen asleep.

Your eyelids feel heavy and you close them, your hand resting on his head. You weren't expecting to fall asleep so quickly, but when you added his purrs and the fact that he was already exhausted, it made more sense.

A smile curls on Lyney's lips.

This one was quite rushed... Even so, I hope it was not too cringe to read ≽^•���•^≼

[bluestjayy]

fck stop begging for comments on here all the damn time. i did like u as a writer but its getting so pathetic and annoying now jus begging constantly. Ur writing isn't that good for getting tonnes of comments anyway half the time Ur dragging plots and characters r so uninteresting probs coz Ur on here begging instead of writing properly. every update feels rushed lately it shows u don't even care anymore. just stop begging and focus on updating instead that's all pppl want

Hey anon, I normally don't respond to rude asks like these because I think what you want is the attention.

I especially don't usually respond to asks that have, in any way, anything to do with begging or demanding I update my fics (and I have seen an uptick in those in recent months) but I'm gonna respond to this one, and by proxy, all the others currently sitting unread in my inbox, and any future asks of this nature that may come my way.

Buckle in, this is a long one.

First, I'm going to assume by 'begging for comments' you mean the few posts I have been reblogging over the past couple of days that encourage readers on AO3 to engage with authors by leaving positive and thoughtful comments, and discouraging them from making unreasonable and impersonal demands. If this is the case then I would like to clarify that I am not 'begging for comments', rather I am supporting a community of writers like myself who are actual human beings who take several hours, days, even weeks, out of our very real lives in order to make something and share it with the world and for some reason are beginning to see a trend of entitlement slowly growing across our comment sections. A trend we wish to nip in the bud because, as I previously pointed out, fanfiction authors are real life human beings, taking time out of their days to make something, not machines on a factory line that churn out content at the behest of someone's demands. We want our fandoms and communities to be safe, supportive spaces where we can have fun. We don't want them to become workloads that begin to feel like full time jobs.

Secondly, to say my writing isn't all that good but in the same message tell me to update? Wild my guy. Truly. But let's keep breaking down AO3 comments/kudos/general feedback (such as this delightful ask you sent my way, I guess hoping it would make me want to update??) from readers and how this can affect an authors updates, this time using one of my favourite metaphors for this type of thing and see if it helps:

AO3 is a potluck. It's a backyard party. There is a veritable buffet at this party. My fic is the cake I baked myself to bring for all my friends to eat. One of my other friends brought potato salad. Another friend brought the punch. Everyone who is at this fun get-together brought something to offer at the buffet table.

Now, I might not like potato salad, but you know what I'm not going to do? Tell my friend to her face that her potato salad sucks and she never should have brought it. I'm going to politely pass on eating it, and be glad that all the people at the party who do like potato salad have something to eat. In the same vein, not everyone is going to like my cake, maybe the flavour is wrong, maybe I used too much icing, maybe they just don't like cake. But that's fine, they don't have to eat my cake. But if you choose to eat my cake, and find you don't like the flavour after taking a bite, then the polite thing to do is quietly stop eating the cake, and go and find something else to eat.

Do not seek me out and tell me to my face everything that was wrong with my cake, and why you don't enjoy it. Do not tell me to my face, that my cake sucks and you wish I'd never brought it.

Do you think telling someone that you hate the way they made a cake is a good and productive way to get them to keep making cakes for you? Or perhaps, is the way to keep an amateur baker wanting to bake, to tell them what you enjoyed about their cake. Even a simple, 'I really liked this cake' goes a long way.

And if you do like my cake, if you love my cake actually, do not then follow me home from the party and start demanding I make you cake all the time. I don't always have time to make cakes.

And just to cover all of my bases, because I am also seeing a trend of folk who think that sharing fanfiction online is the same as submitting manuscripts to publishers and that therefore criticism is allowed. It's not.

To continue to beat this cake metaphor. This is the difference between taking my cake to a party with friends (AO3) and taking my cake onto the Great British Bake off (A professional publishing environment).

If I wanted constructive criticism on my cake, I'd seek it out from expert bakers who know what they're talking about.

No one goes to a friend's party with a cake they made and wants to hear what they're doing wrong. Unless explicitly asked, keep your criticisms to yourself and put the cake down if you don't like it. It's so very easy to not eat a cake if you hate how it tastes.

Finally, a combination of both the points above, really, but I cannot stress this enough. These usernames you're sending anonymous asks to? The handles on AO3 you're writing comments for? They're people. They are human fucking beings that deserve respect and kindness. I am a human being. And sending what you sent up there to another person over fanfiction?? That's just mean, friend. That's just out and out cruelty. I have no other words to describe that.

I could give a flying fuck if you think I'm begging for comments. I could care less you wanna say my writing is terrible. At the end of the day, my writing is mine and I'm going to keep doing it because I find writing fun. It's a hobby that helps me de-stress from the horrors of my real life situations. Frankly, you should be begging me to stop because I have no plans to do anything but keep inflicting my drawn out plots and bad character writing on the world for as long as it keeps making me happy.

But I beg you to take a second off of social media today and think over what makes fandom- something that should be a hobby, a safe place to escape from the world- this serious for you. Because the kicker in all this? My friend, if you think what I post is annoying and my writing is bad, you can not see it. You can block me. You can click away from my stories. Your online space is yours to curate and no one, literally not a single person, is making you engage with things you don't want to engage with. Curate your space, fill it with people who aren't 'begging for comments', fill it with fics you think are really good and deserve to be told how good they are through wonderful comments. Please, I am begging you, because at the end of the day to live in such negativity must be so exhausting for you.

I've no idea if you, the original sender of this message will even read through all of this, but if you did, please, if not me, then any other fandom creators you come across going forward. Please treat them with kindness. Please respect that sometimes fandoms are spaces people hide in when their real lives are scary and frustrating and negative enough and all you do with messages like these is drive people away.

TL;DR: this is not the way you get more updates from fic authors, and further from that, it's not the way you treat anyone. Ever. Do better. Do much better.

[13eyond13]

hi, not too long ago, i read death note one-shot 2020. i really enjoyed it, but i have a question. What would have happened if Minoru never died. Do you think Minoru and Near will have met each other. I hope you have a headcanons about them.

Hi! Thanks for the ask, it was fun to think about the 2020 one-shot again. I hadn't revisited it since it first came out, so I reread it again just now to have it fresh in my mind.

So I don't really think Minoru and Near likely would've met even if Minoru never died, because Minoru asked Ryuk to erase his memories and also made it really hard to trace everything back to him with how he planned the selling of the notebook. He didn't WANT to be tracked down by anybody, nor to remember what he had done, and Near said himself that it would be basically impossible for them to find him now after the transaction had taken place. The only clue L's team really had to go on after the auction finished was that A-Kira was probably one of the many hundreds of thousands of people under 60 years old who had a bank account with Yotsuba.

HOWEVER! I also do like the idea of Minoru and Near meeting each other, especially because Near expressed interest in meeting him due to his obvious intelligence and due to coming up with that kind of a plan with the notebook. And think it might have been fun to see how they got along.

("read more" cut because it's a bit long)

I also liked Minoru as a character quite a bit. He came off pretty chill and patient and peaceful and non-egotistical, but still pretty scheming and clever as a character as well. I also liked how he found a way to try to use it to benefit himself and his own country (I guess - it's up for interpretation, but that much money going to Japan would be "greasing the wheels" of the economy, as they said?). And to me he also seemed to be trying to entertain and placate Ryuk while also getting the notebook away from him and not actually using it himself to kill anybody. After all, Minoru really had no choice in the matter initially when Ryuk selected him for his next notebook owner, so he didn't ask to be put in that position, and he had all the history of what had happened before when Kira had the notebook to draw on. And Near points out that now that the world knows about Kira's power and its whereabouts that it will be a lot harder for it to be used sneakily by anybody, and perhaps that was something that Minoru had been anticipating too (I assume he had thought of many things like this before he chose this plan, seeing as he for some reason spends 2 entire years coming up with it).

Near in this one-shot is a bit of a question mark to me characterization-wise. He doesn't act a ton like Near did in the manga in my eyes, and comes off a bit more cynical and listless and self-centered than I thought he actually was back in the manga. He seems a bit less idealistic and less caring about the others around him to me in this one-shot, too; and I thought that the part where he says that he wants to meet A-Kira because he's smart sounds a lot more like something the original L would say than something Near would say. Much of the stuff that made his personality refreshing and unique to me in comparison to L just wasn't really that present in this one-shot for me. And I'm just not sure if that's because Ohba is intentionally writing him to have been changed by the Kira case and differently characterized now to how he wrote him in the manga, or what? Perhaps he is trying to show Near slowly becoming more like L over the years as he spends more time doing L's job? Or maybe I just interpreted Near's personality in the manga differently to how Ohba was actually conceptualizing him and writing him in the first place.

Anyway, whenever I imagine Near and Minoru meeting and interacting I tend to picture Minoru having a bit of a calming effect on Near for some reason, as Near comes off a bit depressed and cranky and lonely to me in the later one-shots. They're so far apart in age in canon and when Near first learns about A-Kira that I don't ship it, but I can imagine them getting along well as friends if they met (and if someone came up with an AU where they are closer together in age and/or both first met as adults that'd be fine for me shipping-wise as well). Maybe Near would do well to have a friend like Minoru who came off smart and relatable to him in an interesting way, and who also immediately understood that something like having the power of Kira handed to him wasn't automatic good news and didn't want to use it to kill anybody. Minoru could maybe be Near’s chill voice of reason when he gets a little too cynical and stubborn about things and get him out of the house a bit more, introduce him to some of the things the kids are into these days and see what he thinks about them. I feel like Near would maybe do well to not be so caught up in his role as L anymore as well, as it doesn't really seem to be agreeing with him that much later in life. I can picture them doing something fun and low stakes and nerdy together like hanging out at a board game cafe. Or maybe it'd even be nice to see them working together on L stuff, and maybe Near would be a happier person with an actual pal to hang out with.

[professorlizzard]

A True Halloween Game

In this post, I shall regale you about one of the oldest games I am still passionate about: Ghost Master. If you know me, you probably know about my enthusiasm for this game. But in case you don't, let me take you on a magical journey.

Ghost Master's title screen greets you with a haunted mansion, a spooky ghost, and few pumpkins, both grinning and non grinning. After spooky laugh, organ music begins to play, signalling that something spooky this way comes.

But before we truly start our magical journey, I have to point out the "Complete Edition" sign under the title. Well, you see, this 20 year old game from 2023 has an active modding community. Through forbidden alchemy, they have learned how to create new models that look like something straight from 2000s, allowing them to bring back ghosts that were cut during the concept art phase. They have also fixed several game breaking bugs and performance issues! If, after reading my post, you take the risk and play this game, I highly recommend to do so by also installing this mod. The next update is right around the corner! Mind you, it might NOT be compatible with any and all previous save games. This mod is compatible with both Steam and GoG versions, on both platforms they are being sold for pennies.

Anyways, lets continue with the actual presentation, shall we?

After a beautifully cheesy cutscene, you are placed before the improperly clipped map of the small town of Gravenville, a small New England town. The various available missions appear like pop up book contents, complete with eerily creaking cardboard noises.

The big, spooky mansion is actually not a level, but your home base!

Here, you can peruse your collection of ghosts, and teach them new powers as needed. Say hello to some of your new friends!

This is Clatterclaws, one of the cheapest ghosts, with only a small selection of low level powers. Of course, she is actually one the best ghosts in the game.

And there is Hunchcork, one of the ghosts created from scratch! His original model was lost, so he was resurrected based on some concert art! Look at those polygons, he looks perfectly the same style as Clatterclaws.

You can see several more ghosts on this one, including a poltergeist in the background, made from pure particle effects. Speaking of effects: the ghosts have an effect where they slowly fade in and out with a green tint. This is achieved by having an invisible green light source rotate around them all the time. Its a weird solution, but it is interesting.

Starting our first actual mission brings us to our first training assignment as a Ghost Master. What *is* a Ghost Master? Well, it is a kind of undead civil servant, working for the Haunting Committee, performing assignments to scare mortals for various reasons. Maybe some have badmouthed the dead! Maybe there is an hidden murder in the house that you must avenge! But in this case, you have to spook this Sorority House, just to prove you can.

This is a simple mission, mainly featuring pajama and bathrobe clad university students. Just like a slasher movie I guess. Initially, a fragile moment of unearthly calm is held. No mortal will get scared, nor will they calm down. The music of this initial phase is a peaceful astral choir. But the moment you start using powers, it will become a procedurally generated arrangement of horror chords on all kinds of instruments.

Looking into the house, you can see that it is pretty sims like. Mortals are walking about, performing a routine, mostly visiting a set number of rooms in order. Until disrupted that is. If you scare a mortal too much in the bathroom on the upper floor, they might decide to instead visit the one on the lower floor!

A mortal has several stats. Terror meter in red, Madness in orange, and Belief in blue, a long with the white willpower bar on the terror and madness meters.

If Terror goes above this willpower, the mortal will flee! This is usually your goal, but some levels will penalize you for this: you will need them to be around for dark machinations. If Madness exceeds willpower, the mortal will go insane. This is honestly not a mechanic I like. It harshes the spooky halloween vibe of the game in my opinion, on top of it being too hard to do anyways. I tend to not use it, but, I have to mention its existence.

Belief will make a mortal get more scared from terror attacks, as mortal exposed to indoor rain will be less likely to rationalize pizza boxes flying around the room.

Lastly, Fears are personal fears of the mortal, making certain fear types hit them for more terror. In turn, they gain resistance to some other fear types. People afraid of fire will not be scared by flooding, for example. If you use powers to uncover these fears, you will gain a higher end mission score, and some powers have extra effects, fork example, ghosts with Spooky Whispering abilities will be able to know what to whisper about.

To summon a ghost in the world, you have to provide a Fetter for them, along with some plasm. For example, Cogjammer, a gremlin spirit of an organ grinder's grinded monkey, requires electricity to manifest on the mortal plane. You can see the TV and Radio has helpfully lit up!

Here he is... monkey... You see he used up 5 plasm out of 100. Well, used up is not the correct word. He is borrowing it. Well, lets assign more plasm to him!

Here you can see him use the power of SPARKS to terrify some of the girls, as indicated by the colour coded rings. You can see, that as folks get scared, my total plasm goes up! This is the game's main feedback loop: equip ghosts with plasm to scare people, to gain plasm to equip ghosts with... Now, as people calm down, your total plasm decreases. If you ever somehow, become overdrawn in the plasm bank, you have few seconds to fix it. Fail, and you will be banished from the mortal realms!

The power menu is pretty simple. You select the maximum power you want to allow them to use. The ghost will use them an order of their choice, based on the ghost's personality, affected by a ghost's training level. A less trained ghost will start using the powers from top to bottom order, as soon as they are off cooldown. A smarter ghost will wait until there is someone they can actually hit with their powers, and perhaps, they will hit multiple people with AoE powers first.

Some powers have more effects than just scaring people! For example, Cogjammer can destroy machinery. This comes in handy, as this poor witch ghost named Weatherwitch has been trapped in a vacuum cleaner.

Ghosts you free on missions will join your team! This will not only virtually increase their roster on the current missions, but will increase your total roster too! Nice!

Some ghosts like Boo use any inside room as a fetter. These ghosts tend to be weaker than more specialized ghosts, but they do have ways to manipulate mortals. For example, Rattle Chains wakes up sleeping people, and will attract a selection of folks from all over the building.

These are the main mechanics, but there are a ton of more options, like Orders, which allows you to tell a ghost to only attack one specific power, or only use abilities when people are present.

You can also look through the POV of mortals and ghosts, to see what they see! For example, the sleeping people see this sheep.

Once enough people ran away, the music kicks into high gear, signalling your imminent victory!

Running into the night...

At the end you will be scored based on how spooky you were, and your total time. This is turned into gold plasm, provided you have played the level for the first time, or you have beaten a previous record of yours. Here you can see that I have done a better job in an earlier playthrough....

Quite a lot of the levels are "Scare Everyone Away" based. For example, Weird Scéance is about being given an opportunity to scare away a bunch of arrogant frat boys (implied to be medical students who steal organs from their university for fun) due to three nerds trying to summon ghosts to bring revenge on them.

They know what you did, Obi Wan' Shinobi...

Other levels include the Calamytiville Horror, where a family bought a giant house, with many rooms! They do not know but it also has many skeletons. Your job here is to solve puzzles and reveal them, and maybe, free their previous owners too.

And there is also a level based on Evil Dead, where a bunch of university students try to take over the world by summoning a demon. The demon will eat their soul at the end of the level, which is really not in tone with the rest of the game, but the official strategy guide claims this is okay, completely evil humans are fair game (everyone else can only be scared, and nothing more. And somehow, being driven mad is also okay???)

Later levels will have opposition trying to thwart your plans. For example, the GHOST BREAKERS will set up astral wards that will prevent your haunters from directly being placed inside. Of course, there are sneaky ways to infiltrate... if you can avoid their ghost banishing guns! You might also meet mediums, witches, and even a priest.

All in all, I love this game, but this would not be a proper Review Journey had I not told you about some of the negatives.

The puzzles can be really ornery and annoying in some cases. And sometimes, depending on the team, unsolvable! When you figure out the solution, you might have to restart the level to bring a ghost that can actually finish it. Most puzzles have alternate ways to solve them, but still, this is very annoying.

Performance, even with the new complete edition mod can be an issue. The game does not support multithreading, meaning if you have several smaller cores in your CPU, the game might run WORSE than 20 years ago. If you have a high end graphics card, and a low end integrated card, your computer might decided "The low end will be enough :)", and you will have to override this manually.

The game is rather dated in some gameplay desing aspects, mainly when you have to wait to get mortals do a specific event. There is also content that I am iffy about. Some examples of these few things: There is a native chief ghost, probably as a reference on the trope of an "house built on an ancient native burial ground". He was killed by settlers and later they built a shed on his grave. There is also a japanese earth elemental, the spirit of bonsai trees, and I don't really like his extremely accented speech. A level features insane asylum inmates, trapped in an evil asylum slash occult lab, whose descriptions I really don't like.

The game is also a shadow it could have been, mainly due to the meddling of the publisher, and some disastrous issues during development. Money ran out quickly as entire engines had to be remade, so about two thirds of the planned game was cut and gone. This meant, several plot lines don't have a proper resolution. What happened to the mafia men that only appear for one level in the final game? We will never know (until the Completed Edition team finishes importing new levels that is).

The game also ends in a sour note. As the studio was closing down, they quickly put together a final mission to bring closure, where you reprise a rather ornery puzzle to save all the ghosts in the town, after which, every single ghost ascends into the Light. Even the soul eating evil demon?

Anyways, warts and all. This is a truly unique game. I have not seen any other game where your task is to place down a squad of autonomous agents, with a list of commands, and let them do as you command. There is no other game where you are a middle manager of chaos. This is the sole game, where you are a civil engineer bureaucrat, who while surveying a realm with a clipboard does not say "We need another lamppost here to light up the area.", instead you say "Hmm. This area would be perfect for more spiders."

If you made it this far, I hope you have become fascinated enough to try out the game!

Thanks for reading! Happy Halloween, and to all a good fight!

[transsexualraskolnikov]

this is just a personal rant, but i have this side gig where i write articles for this one slovak website about our country. i write mainly about history, literature, and arts and for the most part, it's super cool. yet there is this fine line i'm always balancing on whenever writing anything history related. slovakia was christianized in its very early days, we're talking 9th/10th century and the people, focused heavily simply on agriculture, had a bit of a hard time accepting this faith as eagerly as anticipated, as is usually the case. they still clung to their pagan faith and the result of that was this weird mix of both christian values and traditions and pagan ones.

and the thing is, whenever i write an article about ye ol' traditions this fact has to be brought up over and over and you can't help but slowly begin to realize how christianity was forced upon the oblivious peasants who did their best to accept it in their own ways because they had no other choice. and that in and out of itself doesn't bother as much as i might have made it out to seem, i mean it's a thing that has been happening for centuries all over the world and is not necessarily unique to christianization.

what is the thing that truly IRKS me is that in this awfully conservative country where people become weirdly nationalist the moment you say even one mildly critical thing towards its history (despite how CLUELESS everybody is in regards to history. like you'd be blown away by how LITTLE people here actually know of anything. everybody just knows that we used to be like... czechoslovakia last century and that's pretty much it) and also everybody claims to be oh so christian (but only when the moment's convenient) so i constantly have to watch my words and toy this line between truly pointing to the bastardization that chirstianization has done to traditional slavic pagan values as well as being like 'but it's cool!!!!! because we got THIS cool tradition out of it!!!! :)))) yay!!!! praise jesus!!!!!!!' just so i get paid and the people in the comments don't lynch me.

and as somebody studying history, it truly does pain me how the truth and reality has to be obscured in order to be made family-friendly and marketable and i know that i'm not saying anything new and ground-breaking here. i guess now that i'm feeling it on my own skin and am actually the one actively contributing to the myth of face-tuning history in order for it to be more easily digestible, i'm suddenly overtaken by the realization of what really goes down in this world.

oh. i've made myself depressed. well, a girl's gotta get paid so i guess i better get to writing about funeral traditions.

[soulsxng]

Will there be any lingering effects afterwards in the people who were corrupted?

...I could have sworn I answered this already, but because it's in my askbox again, and dated from way back, I guess I didn't? Idk, I feel like tumblr just like...added a bunch of old asks back into the box or something today, because I only had 2 left before (Hooray for getting that mostly cleared out!) only for like...5 more to show up and bump me to 7. It was weird.

But I digress!

Ultimately, it's going to depend on how long they were Corrupted for! Like, what stage they made it to, essentially, (which is 100% up to you, if you decided to have one of your muses be part of the whole shindig) before they were cured of it. Unless they were in the first stage though, there's going to be some type of linger effect from it. Some that will pass by relatively quickly, and others that could potentially last for months, or even years. And those at the final stage? After they've been cured, those people will never go back to who/what they were prior to the Corruption. The only thing for them will be to...more or less be culled, and sent through Zhrun to become creationary energy again.

Early stage:

- Might still occasionally get the sudden feeling of something inside their head...be it lingering traces of the voice, or just lingering traces of its presence, or a very diluted feeling of dread and fear that came with the Corruption. It won't be debilitating or anything, and it won't be very often that it crops up, but it can induce a mild panic/anxiety reaction. How long this continues on for can depend on the person-- it could be a few days, or it could be up to a few months. - The "spaciness" can stick around on and off for a couple weeks, but the person can be snapped out of it much easier. - Headaches and body aches that come and go for a couple weeks as things settle again.

Early-mid stage:

- Everything previously mentioned may occur, at similar duration. - Body spasms, or certain muscles "locking" for short periods of time. Might happen three or four times a day at first, but will slowly die down over the period of two or so weeks. - Powers might still be a little iffy the first few days. Not responding exactly as expected at first, or being slightly erratic. (but still controllable)

Mid stage:

- Everything previously mentioned may occur, at slightly longer duration. (+ 2 weeks, approx.) - "Staticky" or "pins and needles" feeling in extremities. - If the being is one that needs to eat, sleep, hydrate, etc, their body will not tell them that they need to do these things, at first. - Feelings of emptiness, loneliness, and listlessness, as though a part of them was taken away. This is because of their sudden disconnection from the hivemind. At this stage, it's a constant back of the mind hum, but will occasionally spike to be more overtly noticeable to the affected. This is also one that will last longest out of all the lingering effects; taking at least half a year or more to completely fade.

Mid-late stage:

- Everything previously mentioned may occur, at slightly longer duration, and more severe in nature. (Again, +2 weeks, approx.) - In the case of their body not telling them they need to sleep, eat, hydrate, etc, it also won't stop them from doing these things, at this stage. For example, their body won't tell them that they're full, so they could potentially eat enough to make them sick, or otherwise harm them. - This is the only stage that will retain a good bit of the pain that was felt during the Corruption. It'll take a couple months to completely go away, but it's because the body is struggling to get used to the Trio's energy again, as opposed to the One True Voice's. - I feel like this might be present very rarely in the previous stage as well, but occasionally a cured individual will have bits of odd scarring and similar things on their bodies where the "glitchy" appearance was worst. I'll leave it up to y'all whether these will eventually go away, and the severity of them, since I figure it'll be mostly case-by-case anyway.

Late stage:

Like I said above, at this point it won't matter what the lingering effects are, because the person won't even be able to tell. I guess you could say that at this stage, the being/whatever was cured is dead.

[thesugarhole]

quick venting post just as i finally began internalizing 'oh well play the cards im dealt' and try to find some comfort in the life i currently have and making future plans to go for an easier get-by once i have a safety net (savings) its like. im suddenly and steadily bombarded by messages like 'make sure you do what you want now dont let life take you on the predicted path its a risk you gotta take' like fucking hello??? theyre not mutually exclusive to a degree but its also... idk to explain its like if you dont have it planned from 10 years old then you might have some good experiences but its never the life youll want. and its direct conflit with 'never too late to start doing something'

yesterday night for example i opened the 'news' (its more articles full of advertising and soccer than actual news) tab on my phone and there was one like 'tips from CEO who retired at 44!' and it w

boiled down to, quote 'having life planned to the microscopic detail by the time she was 20' (im 27 this year, fucking come on) studied hard, worked hard for the first youthful years, made it to portugal microsoft ceo(?) and amassed enough to retire early.

it was mentioned she lost her parents early (at 50yos, but how old was she then?) that helped push her to plan it like this but like. well first of all i guess im still too bright eyed because i dont believe this ceo thing possible without loosing morals/ideals along the way (ive yet to met a ceo thats not incredibly out of touch and wants to fuck over everyone and everything for their own gain), but i find it harder to believe there was no silver spoon, especially for those first years. granted if shes 44 now she probably had an easier economy then, but hm. millions work hard from the moment theyre born, how come they don't retire at 44?

the investments. there it was. 'oh i invested in real estate and other small things' thats not hard work, thats gambling. and thats the exact moral loss i expected, the way real estate in portugal is now. and god this pisses me off so much what the FUCK does 'invest in real estate' EVEN MEAN?? you want me to buy stocks off some company?? you want me to buy a house and become a landlord?? i dont even have a place for myself, much less for the tourists and digital nomads. and for every one person saying they got rich off investing, oh you gotta invest smart etc theres 10 currently trying and bleeding money and about 30 that already gave up on it. like it genuinely feels like any other get rich quick scheme where its disheartening that it worked for a couple people and those couple people already had money to begin with

idk if any if this is gonna make sense im writing from heart and whatever the text leads but you understand this right. like my current goal is to just find something later on that will pay decent, not make me slowly but steadily give up on it and have personal time for hobbies. and then i get this shit thrown at me. in 4 months ive been broken down enough that the ridiculous honey pot that is 'invest! stocks! etc!' is starting to appeal to me. like i am not going to be different from the other failure cases im not one lottery away from being set for life. and at the very least im not putting money in the machine selling 40m2 studio apartments for 1 million euros to foreigners while throwing people in the streets if they had houses, jail if they were illegally occupying abandoned houses with no roof. fuck sakes

[youvereachedthebadend]

Maybe we should talk more about the possibility that you’ll have to live with it? I don’t think that would happen, but I think it might feel less stressful if you can imagine a future where you live with it and you’re still okay

Jackie lets out a long breath. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be good."

"Have you tried the worst-case best-case realistic exercise?" Stacy asks.

"The what?"

"Oh, it's something Chase taught me about," she continues. "If there's something you're nervous about, you talk about the worst-case scenario, the best-case scenario, and the most realistic scenario. It's supposed to help with anxiety."

Jackie nods slowly. "Yeah... I can do that."

"Alright. What's the worst case scenario in your mind, then? Under the circumstances where we can't get rid of the corruption."

"Um..." Jackie shifts slightly. "I guess... the worst thing that could happen would be... I-I somehow relapse back into Error. Become him again. A-and Jack can't undo it again so I'd be stuck like that and everyone would hate me."

We'd never hate you, Jackie, Marvin says.

"Funny, because in this worst-case scenario you'd be the one to try killing me."

Marvin makes a face. I never tried to kill you even when we were on the run. It was always defensive.

"I know, but this is the worst-case scenario."

"Alright, what's the best thing that could happen, then?" Stacy asks.

"Uh... I guess that it just goes away on its own," Jackie says slowly. "All the glitches and the weird numbness just... stops. And we all move on."

Stacy nods. "What do you think is most likely to happen?"

"I... don't know. That things will keep being like... this." Jackie clenches and opens his fist a couple times. Red static flickers around his fingers, cutting into them. He doesn't really react, just reaches into his pocket to take out some Band-Aids. "And it'll just be like that until I die."

Morbid way of putting it, Marvin says.

"Well we're being realistic, and it's not like I'm gonna live forever. You get what I mean."

[automatismoateo]

My born-again brother has become openly homophobic via /r/atheism

My born-again brother has become openly homophobic I apologize, this is going to be rather long. So not long after the pandemic started, my older brother (I'm 27, he's 35), who had recently gotten out of a bad, toxic marriage, started going to the nearby church in our hometown. It happens to be a southern baptist church, and a lot of its congregation are homophobic (I know, because some of them are members of our family). Fast forward to today. My brother has within the last few days started sharing blatantly homophobic and transphobic stuff on facebook. He has also gotten sharply more provocative and uncompromising in what he says on there. Before this, pretty much everything he posted and shared pertained to typical evangelist stuff about accepting Jesus, etc. I guess over the years I've been afraid of this very thing happening. So I've kept an eye on his page, but generally kept my distance in regard to actually communicating with him. We talked from time to time, but I had already felt like his newfound religious zeal drove a wedge between us. But, since I'm gay, I held out hope that on this one topic he might keep a mind of his own and diverge from his church's view. Well, that's gone out the window. Multiple family members commented against his bigotry, and my dad is pissed at him and has tried talking him out of it, to no avail. I myself unfriended him. Of course my brother has all the classic responses ready to fire, about how he's saying these things "out of love" and "out of concern" for gay people's souls LMAO. He literally said "it'd be hateful not to warn them." I have no words for that. And while I guess it's been a few years coming, and I've been slowly saying goodbye in my own way, now I truly feel grief about losing my brother to this. I almost called out of work today because I feel sick. In my early teenage years my brother was my stronghold. Most of my lifelong interests, particularly in music and nintendo games and fantasy stories, I owe to him. We struggled, sometimes together and sometimes apart, through our parents' divorce. I would never have imagined we'd be at the point where he's calling homosexuality satanic. It's like a knife in my gut and a far cry from the big brother I grew up with. As much as I'd like to hope someday he'll get over this obsession (as he has from other obsessions he's had in the past), at this point it's been years, he's married to a woman he met at the church, and they have kids together now. I don't think I'll ever get him back. And I'm having a very hard time moving on and fully accepting that. He lives with our mom, so I feel like I can't go there anymore. I grew up in that house, and I hate the fact that if I go visit my mom I'll have to deal with him. To be completely honest I don't want to see him at all or give him the chance to state his case to me, because I know it will just be evangelist biblically-literal nonsense. I get very emotional when confronted, to the point of crying, and I know I would lash out, which I'd rather not give my energy to. My own acceptance of my sexuality was a difficult, years-long struggle in and of itself, and I refuse to give voice to anything or anyone that questions its validity. If you read all that, thanks I guess, I'm not specifically looking for advice or anything like that, though I'm not opposed to it either. I just wanted to put it all into words and maybe connect with anyone who might have experienced something similar as a queer person. Please enjoy your Thursday. Submitted May 09, 2024 at 08:02AM by halcyon_apricity (From Reddit https://ift.tt/8i6H4eu)

[montyterrible]

Ernest Gets Faustian

Slam Dunk Ernest (1995) not only breaks the naming convention (“Ernest” + verb + noun) of the Ernest series of movies, but it’s also the first of a direct-to-video “trilogy” of sorts, followed by Goes to Africa (1997) and In the Army (1998). Maybe there’s something either auspicious or ominous in there somewhere. Like, is it a decline or the beginning of something? It’s fun revisiting these movies because of how they’re simultaneously so familiar that they’re basically imprinted on my brain, with just the slightest exposure or reflection basically unfolding an entire mental film reel, while also feeling kind of fresh for how I now get to look at them with adult eyes, looking for signs of low-budget production (for one thing) or zeroing in on elements I either glossed over or didn’t appreciate fully as a kid.

While I always knew about the supernatural elements of this story—with Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s “Archangel of Basketball” versus Jay Brazeau’s Mr. “Moloch,” with Ernest as a sort of proxy for both in their play for something like a little piece of the young boy Quincy’s soul—I really appreciated the elements of weirdness and the layering of plot and theme that happen in the movie on this re-watch. I did not actually know who the mythological Moloch was back then, for one thing.

For another, there’s a kind of surreal seduction scene in a limo where Ernest is tempted by Moloch and the already fallen Erma Terradiddle, which is a literal hell of a name in this case, with garish lighting and visions of a successful Ernest that include him strutting the catwalk in this funny parody of a fashionable leather get-up just kind of draped over his usual denim outfit. He and Erma repeating “And me! And more money!” in this intimate sort of way over and over again definitely registered with me as more unsettling and, dare I say… erotic this time. Ernest arriving at the big game in a garish sort of popemobile accompanied by a bunch of people in animal costumes was also a nice weird, surreal touch. Earlier in the movie, there’s even a little small-scale representation of the large-scale heaven versus hell conflict where three of Ernest’s teammates arrange themselves in front of him in the locker room in a configuration that recalls one man with an angel and a devil on his shoulders.

It sounds weird to focus on something like emotion in an Ernest movie, but I kind of Felt this one, more so than Goes to Jail or Africa: seeing Ernest slowly lose his way and become less of the true-hearted bumbler he’s meant to be as Quincy simultaneously starts disrespecting his father, how Erma has her own arc of losing her soul to Moloch (and not breaking free in the end!), how the team breaks down thanks to Ernest’s supernatural abilities stealing the show out from under them, and how Ernest has his locker room epiphany and starts to throw the game so that the guys have to go back out there on their own and win with “hard work” like they need to for everyone to more or less get what they deserve... I guess I wouldn’t call it “original,” but I’d call it “competent,” as backhanded as that might sound. It’s an Ernest Sports Movie with a supernatural twist, and I think it pulls of its little story of temptation effectively.   

And, yes, it is also funny. The opening scene with kid Ernest, where he tries to shoot a basketball and it ends up causing chaos, with the ball ping-ponging from one innocent victim to the next, is really funny in that way where only the actual physical presence of actors and objects playing off one another (I think) can be. There’s a similarly visceral gag where Ernest tries to go to bed with the sentient shoes the Archangel gives him still on his feet, and, after a beat of calm, his legs burst from beneath the covers and try to run away on opposite sides of the bed in a manner that’s clearly unrealistic but all the funnier for it. In that vein, there are a fair number of scenes where Jim Varney gets to pretend to struggle against his own body (against the aforementioned shoes, but also trying to take a hat off his head at one point), and it just looks like a lot of fun. Obviously, Ernest’s physicality is a big part of the humor of the character, and a sports movie gives him room to indulge. It really makes sense as a vehicle for this brand of comedy, and that it comes packaged with the supernatural and heartfelt stuff just enhances it for me.

[reversedpsync]

Challenger's path drabble word count: 1166

“So this thing is like a maze, right?” Tama looked around at the challenger event that they’d settled on, her spiramon resting on her shoulder. “Are you ready for it, Ryuki? Might be tough, and I’d rather not have to dote on you if you start crying like a baby~”

“Would you be serious for once?” Rolling his eyes, Ryuki let out a sigh. He should’ve known better than to expect Tama could get through this without making some sort of dig at him, but he’d still thought it was possible. His partner just enjoyed teasing him too much to let it go. “We’ve only got two hours, so we’ll need to make it count.”

“Hmpf. You’re no fun sometimes.” She stretched out her arms, letting her spiramon float away from her and returning to Ryuki’s AI-Ball. It was a strange thing that she could be physical in this place, but neither of them were complaining- though in cases like this, it was certainly more convenient for them to work as a team with her in his eye socket. They were more used to that anyways. “Alright, I’m ready to go. How about you?”

“Ready. Let’s get started then.”

As he stepped forward into the maze, his and Tama’s spiramon quickly disappeared as the landscape shifted around them. A booming voice signalled the start of the challenge, and Ryuki took off running.

‘Tama, X-Ray mode.’

“On it.”

Even with the overlay in his vision, it wasn’t helping too much. They at least could better tell where the dead ends were, but that was about it… with a sigh he asked her to turn it off, slowing down slightly to look more closely at the walls surrounding them. There wasn’t much to them either- just blank walls.

“Well, we should keep heading roughly north if we want to reach the center. From there, it’ll be easier to meet up with them if they aren’t there already.”

“I guess that makes sense, huh?” Nodding his head, Ryuki followed Tama’s directions. “Do you… know where we’re going, or something?”

“Well, not exactly. But I can tell which way is north, and calculate out a most likely ‘center’ based on where we entered from.” She’d projected her hologram into his vision, strolling along beside him as they explored the maze. “So you’d better thank me, considering I’m doing all the hard work here!”

“Thank you, oh lady Tama.” He offered a mock bow, enough to hide the wry grin on his face. “It’s weird though… I feel like things are looking… different?”

“Huh… you’re right, actually.”

The hallways had slowly changed altogether, now resembling something like rough concrete, rather than the smooth walls there’d been before. The floor under his feet had become a bit bumpier as well, but that wasn’t the most interesting part. The walls seemed more decorated now, bits and pieces of rough drawings reminding him of days gone by at home.

“What’s this supposed to mean…?”

He shook his head, continuing to walk forward. There wasn’t too much point in dwelling on anything right now- it would only distract him, when they were here for a reason. He wanted to complete this task, and they didn’t have that much time.

“Oh Ryuki, that one looks extra familiar!” Tama’s hologram pointed to a drawing that looked a lot like Boss’s office, Ryuki and Date each holding a cup of coffee. A small smile made its way onto Ryuki’s face at the memory. “Feeling nostalgic, hmm~”

“Mr. Date always knows what to say. He’d probably know exactly where to go, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re vastly overestimating him, as always.” She giggled, a sly grin on her face. “That old pervert wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Shaking his head, Ryuki continued onwards through the maze. He stopped at a split path, pausing for a moment- then turned a sharp left, a strange feeling in his chest urging him that direction.

“Why are you headed that way, Ryuki?”

“It just… feels like this is the right path.” He knew acting on a gut feeling was hardly reliable in the long term, but it felt like this would take them closer to their spiramon. And Tama wasn’t teasing him about it this time, quiet and thoughtful while he walked onward. “Yeah, I definitely think we’re getting closer.”

“Actually, I think you’re right. It’s hard to tell, but I think I just saw a flash of them in x-ray mode?”

That was enough to motivate Ryuki to start running again, pressing onward through the maze. Tama’s instructions and his gut feelings were in sync, getting them closer and closer to the center, all the while his eyes lingering on the changing shapes of the walls, and the strange drawings along them that kept reminding him of home.

This place was strange, that much was certain. He’d try not to dwell on it too much- not when so many of them seemed to serve as reminders for his own mistakes, happy memories tied up with memories of failure.

“Ryuki, over there! I just got a thermal signature!”

He made a sharp turn at Tama’s insistence, speeding up at the sight of dark fur and a strange jelly tendril. The maze was shifting again, about to pull them further apart once more, and he wasn’t going to let it. He threw himself forward in a dive, rolling to a stop in front of their spiramon- the both of whom immediately tackled him onto his back, cuddling up as close as they could.

“H-Hey, easy there! Easy!”

“Aww, you’re so good with pets, Ryuki!” Tama had returned to her physical form, squatting down beside him. Her own spiramon was still on Ryuki, its jelly tendrils wrapped around his arm in some sort of hug while Yomi had gotten plenty comfortable on his chest. “You look pretty comfortable.”

“Well, I’m not.” He rolled his eyes as a congratulatory sound rang out, signalling the end of the challenge. They’d done better than he’d expected- they hadn’t taken the entire time, at the very least. “Could you help me get up?”

“Okay, okay. Jelli, let him go, alright?”

Her spiramon floated over to her shoulder, and gave Ryuki a proper chance to push Yomi to the side. Back on his feet, he stretched out his arms.

“That was a good warmup. I feel like I could go a little longer, honestly.”

“Then find something else to do, you adrenaline junkie.” She snickered, flicking his forehead. “Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past you to throw yourself into that hole.”

“Well, actually…”

“Oh. My. God. And you call yourself responsible? You’ve got no impulse control without me!” She was fully laughing now, almost doubled over on herself. “But that’s why I’m here- to keep you out of trouble!”

“Yeah, yeah… are you sure you don’t cause more trouble?”

“Nope. You should show me more respect.”

He just groaned, but it wasn’t enough to hide the smile from his face.

[shareyourloveandhope]

Hi, I came here to show you another poem od mine. I also came here to give you an encouraging word in case you're fighting with a trauma related to losing someone special.

I know that it feels like you'll never get over it and will never be happy again, but it is not true. Yes, you'll feel lost for some time and lose motivation to do everything, you'll feel like you don't have strength anymore but it will pass. Just like the winter passes, spring comes again.

One day, you'll be able to see spring again. There will be a revolution in your life. You will get over what seemed to be impossible to get over. You will be able to laugh again. You'll be able to look at the photos of this person and be happy because it will no longer cause you to have a flashback and make you cry for hours. You'll accept the loss and finally move on.

Do you know what can keep you from moving on? You. Sometimes, you might think that you want to get over it but something seems to be holding back. You keep on thinking that you want to keep this person in your memory for a lifetime and don't realize that you hurt yourself this way. Yes, keeping someone in your memory is fine but that's not healthy if you keep on having painful flashbacks and panic attacks because of it. Slowly, try to remind yourself that you'll have them in your heart anyway, you'll have them in your mind and there's no need to be sad over their loss anymore. There will always be important to you and that's what matters. I hope that you'll realize that you can be happy when thinking of them and will be able to actually experience it too~~

Where the ocean calls me

First days after you left still remain

As the ones on which I felt the most pain

Every day without you feels so empty and sad

These days are only full of the constant rain

It makes me live with grief, I'm in vain

I don't even have any strength to be mad

I could be mad at you for leaving me here all alone

I could be mad at you for making me wonder where is my home

You were my safe place where I could go

But now I have nowhere to go, it's just me and the song

That is playing in the background, it reminds me of you

It represents every moment we spent together: both of us; me and you

Now when I want us to be together, it doesn't happen

I wish it would work out everytime I start snapping

I guess spending more time with you won't become a real thing

I guess that the useless hope I have will do the same as a ship — sink

The waves will remind me of your calm personality

Ugh, how I wish our another meeting could turn into reality

The storm that is yet to come will remind me of all the negativity

All the moments when I had problems with countinuing to live happily

The enemy's ship will remind me of someone who tried to break us in two

They tried to break our relation but we didn't let them to

We kept on fighting like the brave pirates

We were ready to keep our lives on the thin lines

In order to save the connection of both of us

Nothing trully mattered, because we didn't want the memory of us to pass

We were fighting because we didn't want to say ”bye" to each other

We wanted to use some magic like Harry Potter

But what could we do? We were not magicians

There were no other things that could help us

It wasn't easy to see both of us fall apart

It wasn't easy to see us, pirates who knew each other right from the start

Say goodbye, I was more than sure

That we both will make it, how I wish it could be true

The unexpected storm came upon us

Its power destroyed everything that we had

Everything that we went through

Every wall that we broke, our every breakthrough

Every tear caused by the sadness

And every memory filled with laughter

I still see it in front of my eyes, the last moments that we spent together

The storm let me know that nothing lasts for too long, there is no forever

Sooner or later everything will change

For the worse or for the better

But to me it doesn't really matter

Because in my heart and memory there is this one ship

This one ship that I always think about, the one that I always go to

It helps me with all the painful situations that I have to go through

I know that as long as I have this ship inside of my heart, I'll be fine

I just hope I will be able to see you in the afterlife

Just promise me that you'll wait for me this time

One day I'll come to you, the most important part of my life, my captain

But for now, I'll look at the ocean that reminds me of you and me

This ocean is special. Everytime I look at it, I feel like you're calling me by my name

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My song recommendation for today is ”Be alright” by Ariana Grande. Have a good listen. I hope you're having a great day that's filled with a lot of happiness — that's what you deserve.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

I was thinking about my reaction to the latest chapter of Floornight again

First, I had to realize I'm still really confused about what is going on here, even though I've read at least four more chapters since yesterday's. The narrative voice has become increasingly detached from the narrative events and the reader increasingly comes to understand things from outside perspectives, so much so that in the last chapter's narration it seemed like a different author (or perhaps an entirely different person) was writing the story

Second, as in my reaction to the most recent Floornight chapter, what I have been feeling about that story over the last couple of weeks was "this is too weird not to be worth reading"

(That is, reading further and reading carefully, there is a huge amount of plot content and ideas and character interaction, even though there are so many ways I could read that plot content and the whole thing seems very much "the sum of its parts," as though what they are putting down is already familiar enough in the way that people write stories, and only their own particular style is new and distinctive)

It occurred to me that what I'm having in my reaction to the story – in particular, the feeling that the weirdness is worth reading – is actually a sort of affective reading of the story

I guess I'm getting at a level of narrative immersion which depends on emotional connection with the characters. There are some stories where I read them more slowly for that reason, because they require me to care more about the characters to really get their feel, but where they do manage to do that it really works, and the whole thing flows more smoothly. Sometimes I have felt this way about relatively light reading of certain short stories, too – not ones like "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" or "Poe's Law," but ones like "The Eye," where I found myself liking the characters so much that for a while I was willing to sit and "read" the story for that feeling alone.

I suspect there are some stories where this is what is happening with my reaction, but that that is not the norm for the audience, and that that is one of those "stories where the audience has gotten to a point that they would rather not do it." That may not be what is happening at all! Maybe the author is not putting down a new story that the readers have never heard or read before in their lives. Maybe they are trying something very different, something that I wouldn't necessarily expect, and maybe that is why it seems so unfamiliar. But I think there might be other cases where people read it a certain way, and a lot of those cases will have to do with the characters and their emotional reactions. Maybe that has to do with the fact that our experience of narrative (and "media") is filtered through our emotional connection to our audience members and the audience members' emotional response, even when they are "reading for plot," because they are more immersed in the story that way.

This is an interesting and frustrating idea, but I think I need to put some thought into it before I'm able to put it into practice, which is why I'm writing it out here. I hope that posting it will help me figure something out later