#one of those games where it feels like it was made for me

[m-neuvillette]

Where’s the trophy? He just comes running over to me!

Oliver Aiku, Sae Itoshi, Tetsuro Kuroo, Kotaro Bokuto, Kojiro Nanjo (Joe) x fem reader

Small scenarios of my favorite athletic anime boys to this Taylor Swift song <3

Oliver Aiku

Since the Blue Lock project was completed and viewed as a success the new Japan National team was created. Oliver staying as its star defender and captain.

Oliver has really enjoyed playing with the Blue Lock boys. He is also happy they are on his team and he gets to lead them to become the best soccer players he knows they can be.

Now here they are, the World Cup. The Japan National team has made it all the way to the championship game. Oliver takes a deep breath and looks at the scoreboard. 1-0 with one minute left. They are winning. They are so close to the win he can almost taste it.

Japan has been outplaying the other team this entire game. Oliver is now just watching his offensive line pass the ball around to kill time on the clock. He is so antsy right now, he can stop from jumping up and down a bit.

3…2…1… *buzzer noise*…. The crowd is going wild and is so loud. But everything seems so quiet to Oliver. He can’t believe it, it feels so surreal. He accomplished his dream. HE AND HIS TEAMMATES DID IT!!! Oliver then looks around to see his teammates coming to run back to the defensive line to celebrate.

While the team celebrates on the field you and other family, friends, and lovers of his teammates head to the field. You’re sadly toward the back of the group but you can’t even seem to care because Oliver accomplished his dream.

The group gets to the field and the team pulls apart from celebrating with each other to find their loved ones. Oliver is looking around to try and find you. He’s just buzzing to get you in his arms. He realizes the crowd is breaking up and sees you towards the back. Without a second hesitation he runs towards you.

You really want to push these people out of your way to try and find Oliver but they are in the same boat as you so you impatiently wait until the crowd breaks up. They finally start to break into group and you turn to your left to see Oliver sprinting towards you.

Oliver gets to you and before either of you can say a word both he has a hand on the back of your head and pulls you into a deep kiss. He puts his other hand on your lower back to pull you closer towards him. You quickly wrap your arms around his neck wanting him even closer.

Oliver breaks the kiss and leans down to connect your foreheads. He just stares at you with so much love and excitement. You smile back at him starting to cry, “Congratulations Oliver!! You accomplished your dream. I am SO proud of you baby.”

Oliver wipes your tears, “Cmon baby, you’re going to make me start crying.” It’s true you can see his eyes start to water, “I couldn’t have done this without your support. I cannot thank you enough for being for me this entire tournament and here right now. I love you so much baby.”

You quickly respond, “I love you more Oliver.” Oliver then pulls you into the biggest, warmest and tightest hug you guys have ever shared. Oliver may have just accomplished his dream but you’ll still always be his favorite trophy.

Sae Itoshi

You and Sae were childhood friends. You two were super close because you were the only other person Sae could stand besides his younger brother. It broke your heart when your friend told you that he was leaving for Spain.

You had the biggest crush on Sae your entire childhood and it only seemed like those feelings grew once he left. Little did you know Sae was in the same boat.

So after two years of being in Spain he called you one night begging you to come to Spain to be with him. You weren’t exactly close with your parents or had anything tying you down to Japan so you quickly agreed. And the rest is history.

Here you are now watching Sae play in a tournament with a bunch of different teams in it. His team made it all the way to the championship and you couldn’t be more excited. Sae has gotten two assists and has been playing perfectly.

Sae doesn’t show it but he’s so excited. They are up 5-1 with 10 seconds left. It’s a guaranteed win. The buzzer goes off indicating the game is over and that he and his team won.

Sae goes to celebrate with his team but he isn’t super close with them so he more or so sticks to high fives compared to hugs. He is just waiting till you come down to the field because in all honesty he wants to celebrate with you.

You couldn’t stop crying he accomplished one of his many soccer dreams and at a young age too. You don’t even hesitate to run down to the field to find him. Once you get down there you make eye contact and see he has been waiting for you.

Sae really only runs for soccer but you’re the exception. He is sprinting towards you. Once he gets to you he pulls you into a bone crushing hug. He is quick to ask, “Why are you crying?”

You tell him, “Sae, you accomplished one of your dreams!! And I got to see it at the same time. I am SO proud of you.”

Sae pulls back to wipe your tears and looks at you like you are the only person in the world. “Thank you beautiful. I couldn’t have done this without you being here with me. I love you.”

You respond instantly, “I love you too Sae. More than you can imagine my superstar.”

Sae smiled and leans down to give you a kiss putting so much love behind it. Sae knows there is so many opportunities for him in Spain but he sees so many more opportunities with you.

Tetsuro Kuroo

You met Kuroo your first year in chemistry. Your assigned seats were by each other and you guys instantly connected. He convinced you early into your first year to become the manager for the volleyball team and you don’t regret joining.

At the end of your first year Kuroo asked you out and you two have been dating ever since. You’ve watched Kuroo grow from a loud and passionate first year into a strong captain (who is still loud and passionate).

You and Nekoma are currently at the nationals entry game against Noehbi. Kuroo was talking to you about the game last night about how bad he wanted to go to nationals his last year of playing. All you wanted was to have that happen.

This game is frustrating to watch because Noehbi’s cheating is really making everyone mad. That doesn’t stop Kuroo from cheering everyone on. Everyone started to get on edge once Yaku gets hurt.

You saw Kuroo run to him right away to try and help. You know Kuroo is stressed but he isn’t showing it. You know he has a deep trust in his team and won’t let this game end in a loss.

You see the boys work together and pull off the win. Everyone is cheering while the team is celebrating. As much as you want to run to Kuroo and celebrate you know to give him time with his team.

Kuroo was exhausted from the game but that didn’t stop him from running around and celebrating that they are going to nationals. After he is done hugging the team he turns to face you.

He gives you a soft smile indicating that he can celebrate with you now. You are tearing up because of how proud you are of them but also because you know that this is the final stretch of the third years.

Once you stand up indicating you’re ready to celebrate he crosses the court with ease right to you. Kuroo places his forehead against yours. He sees your tears and goes to kiss them away then quickly kisses your lips. “Darling don’t go crying on me now, we are suppose to be celebrating.”

“Sorry Kuroo, I’m just so happy and proud. You got to go to nationals one last time. That is also making me sad because it’s our last time as manager and captain.”

Kuroo lets out a couple of tears and pulls you into a hug to whisper into your ear, “Thank you. We have one more last page to write in this part of our lives but I have a whole future planned with you so don’t worry. I love you darling.”

You whisper into Kuroo’s ear, “I love you too my captain.”

Kotaro Bokuto

You met Bokuto through Akaashi. Akaashi took you as an apprentice journalist to see what the routine of one looks like. Bokuto gave Akaashi an extra ticket to have you come and get a good seat.

Once Akaashi introduced you to Bokuto the story wrote itself. Bokuto was quick to ask you to be his girlfriend and you have been to every game since.

This game is really important to Bokuto today because this is the one to indicate the best men’s professional team in Japan. He is playing against and with a bunch of people he grew up with.

You know he’ll have a fun time playing but you also know he wants to win. You’ve seen his excitement all day today and you can’t wait to see that on the court.

You sat next to Akaashi during the game and met a lot of Bokuto’s friends from high school. It makes you happy to know a lot of people are excited and happy for him. He truly is one of a kind.

The game goes on, the teams are neck to neck. One team will take the lead then the other will and it’s a cycle like that. But in the end Bokuto’s team ended up winning.

You make your way down to the court with the rest of Bokuto’s friends. You stay behind though so Bokuto can see his friends first since he hasn’t seen a good amount of them for years.

Bokuto had another idea though. Once you all got to the court and he didn’t see you at the front of the group he pushed through the group to find you.

Once he finds you he smiles and picks you up by the waist and spins you around. He’s laughing and staring at you with so much happiness. Bokuto yell, “SWEETHEART WE WON!!! DID YOU SEE IT!?! DID YOU SEE MY INSANE SPIKES?!?”

You giggle and hold onto his shoulders. You yell back, “YES PRETTY BOY I SAW!!! YOU PLAYED AMAZING, I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!!!”

Bokuto slowly puts you down and leans down to give you a kiss. He gives you a hug. “Well I only did so good because I had my lucky charm here watching.”

Later that night Bokuto gave you a necklace with his number on it so you can wear it to games to show off that you’re his lucky charm.

Kojiro Nanjo (Joe)

You’ve known Joe and Cherry since high school and once they created S they always invited you to come and watch them skate.

After a guy at S got too close to you and made you uncomfortable one of them is always with you. One time while Joe was skating you told Cherry you had feelings for Joe but had no idea how to tell him. Cherry ended setting you two up because he knew Joe also had feelings for you.

Joe stopped all his playboy habits once he knew he had a chance. He ended up becoming the picture perfect boyfriend.

Ever since the tournament Adam held, tournaments became a regular occurrence. S tried to make different tournaments to highlight different types of skating. This tournament that was going on now was a strength and speed tournament. Meaning it was perfect for Joe.

The final match was between Joe and Shadow. Joe and Shadow come up to the group and everyone wishes them luck even though Joe won’t need it. Miya is quick to say that too which causes everyone to laugh and Shadow to have a meltdown.

They then go to line up and start the beef. Once they start skating you and the group head down to the finish line.

Joe is in the lead and Shadow is having a hard time catching up. Everyone expected this to happen but you are still so excited to watch Joe skate. He really is a different person when he is skating. You can see how much love he has for it when he is doing these tournaments and it’s so much fun to watch.

They are starting to get closer to the finish line and Shadow has no hope in catching up now. Joe makes it to final stretch and only pushes himself to go faster. Once he crosses the finish line he quickly jumps off his board and jogs right over to you.

Joe picks you up in a hug and gives you a passionate kiss. He slips his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss. Once your tongues move in a dance, Cherry hits him on the back to make you two stop. Joe tightens his hold on you to make sure you don’t fall. “I get you guys love each other but there’s a crowd.”

Joe puts you down but still is hugging you and glares at Cherry, “I don’t care you douche. I am here to collect my reward.” Joe turns his attention back to you and smiles down at you. “Hey there pretty girl, did you enjoy the beef?”

You wrap your arms around his frame and put your chin on his chest to look up at him, “Hi handsome. I did enjoy watching you skate. You were amazing out there as always. Congratulations my champion.”

Joe winks at you then gives a little quick kiss to your forehead, “How about we celebrate a little more after this?” You agree and Joe drags you off to his motorcycle to head back to his place for the rest of his reward.

[starkbarnes-lovechild]

"You know, Bruce," Bruce holds back a sigh as Tony drops next to him, shifting so he can avoid getting hit in the face by the other man's backpack, "for a supposed campus playboy, your game is just... weak." He hums in response, keeping his eyes on the book he had been reading, rubbing a grass blade between his fingertips. He knows Tony will get his point across soon. "No wonder you're still single." And that. That made Bruce freeze. Tony can't honestly be that dense, can he?

Meeting the other man's teasing smirk, Bruce decides that yes, Tony is that dense.

There are a couple of way he can go about this:

Maintain the status quo and start flirting, hoping the idiot will get a clue. He now understands it's unlikely but he has to believe miracles can happen.

Tease Tony by implying that as a matter of fact, he is seeing someone for a few weeks now. It would be a lie that the other man may or may not see through. When it comes to the tech genius, no one really knows.

Tell Tony that he's not interested in relationships at the moment. Now, this could go wrong in so many ways. Mainly, Tony might think Bruce doesn't want a relationship if the idiot ever gets a clue.

Bruce decides to go for a fourth option.

"My game isn't weak, Stark." Tony perks up, knowing Bruce is about to impart something big. It's always been this way for them. They use each other's last names as a signal that they're about to have a Serious Conversation TM. "The guy I like is just a bit of an idiot." He ends with a pointed look, praying to every deity that the use of his last name will finally help Tony get a clue.

The other man throws his head back laughing loudly. Bruce wants to bite the stretch of his neck. "Blaming someone else for your lack of game, Wayne?" The corner of his eyes crinkling with how wide his smile is. He longs to let his lips touch those crinkles and the two ends of Tony's smiles. He thinks he might feel Tony's happiness through touch alone.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Tony splutters. He's not sure how he's looking at Tony but the other man looks flustered.

He doesn't even have think when he says, "For someone so smart, you're definitely the biggest idiot I know." Tony squawks in offense but before he can respond, Bruce is pulling him for a kiss. He hears the other man gasp but it doesn't take him long to kiss back.

When they pull away from each other, Tony's eyes are wide. "Oh." Bruce bites his lower lip, trying to contain his smile, as he simply hums in response. "Oh." If possible, Tony's widen even more. He initiates the next kiss, this one hungrier, nearly tackling Bruce down.

"This means we're boyfriends now, right?" Tony pants when they pull apart, his hands gripping Bruce's shoulders.

"Do you want us to be?" He asks, cupping the other man's face. He lets his thumb dance over Tony's soft skin.

"Yeah."

"Then, yes, Tony. We're boyfriends." The bright smile he receives in return makes his heart beat faster. He feels like his falling in love all over again.

Tony gives him a peck on the lips then turns and wriggles around so he's between Bruce's legs, back to chest. He hums contentedly and pulls Bruce's arms around his waist. Bruce huffs a laugh and picks up the book he dropped to pickup where he left off. He keeps one arm around Tony and lets the other man relax against his chest. He wonders if Tony still thinks his game is weak.

“Your flirt game is so bad, no wonder you’re still single.” “My flirt game isn’t bad, and the person I like is a fucking idiot. That’s why I’m still single.” “…Okay, but why are you looking at me like that?” AU

(@dumplingsjinson)

[v-arbellanaris]

veilguard, to me, is what happens when you place all of the systemic issues in your worldbuilding on the shoulders of one single individual. because guess what? these issues will never get resolved - killing loghain didnt magically solve slavery, killing meredith and orsino did not magically resolve mage/templar issues, killing corypheus did not bring about any real change, because they were never the fucking issue. they were ALWAYS products of their systems, a product of thousands of years of sociopolitical histories and constructs that have made them the persons that they are.

with dragon age in particular, there are SO MANY really important stories rooted in representations of systemic oppression, of deep religious conflicts, of racism and classism and colonialism... but the writing room itself has little diversity that reflects that. so you have people are writing about issues they've never really experienced, and there are no voices of anyone who might be able to give any kind of insight. and it shows bc their writing is always noticeably stronger when it comes to queer stories (again, with glaring flaws, but it's important to note!!) compared to their stories related to being. well. any other kind of minority - religious or ethnic.

their solution to the quantum, their solution to the "problematic" writing around different factions - like the qunari, like the dalish, like the mages - is to essentially stamp out anything that previously existed without discussing it in any detail (HOW DID THEY LEAVE OUT THE MAGE-TEMPLAR WAR WHEN DISCUSSING THE DAIRSMUID ANNULMENT? THE CODEX ENTRY YOU GET ABOUT IT ISN'T EVEN ABOUT THE DAIRSMUID CIRCLE ANNULMENT?!) and then just gaslighting you into going 'well thats just not true' or 'no THIS is how it is', or to replace it with EVEN WORSE racist caricatures, like in the case of the antaam.

bioware has shown that they CANNOT write follow up on the story they've put down - they're not capable of it. they don't have answers to the big questions they've posed in the story around ideas of social justice, of war/peace, of social cohesion vs progression, of legal rights vs morals, etc etc, and i feel like that's deeply linked to the politics of the team that produces dragon age, and to the politics of western, white liberals, which bioware's writing room is populated with.

over the last decade, they've written themselves into a corner. i've described the situation to my friends where i've said bioware has this tendency to write these big structural issues of power and systemic oppression only to then turn around and bottle all these issues down to A Single Bad Apple. people will talk around the situation and factions and their culpability for whatever went wrong but then at the end of the day, they pin the "blame" or responsibility on a singular character - anders, lord seeker lambert, lucius corrin, corypheus, samson, calpernia, hell idk fucking sahrnia's mayor. there's always a single individual person to blame for things going wrong, rather than an entire system that failed - and even the few chances you have to suggest that the system is an issue is met with the most bullheaded, aggressive disapproval, even if your own pc was ostensibly affected by those systems. mark darrah also mentioned the narrative shift, and so i suspect that placing the "blame" for thedas being the way it is at solas' feet, rather than allowing the chantry or orlais or tevinter or literally fucking ANY systems to be held accountable for their actions, reflects their own understanding of "high fantasy", where there's a simplistic black-and-white, good-and-evil, with-us-or-against-us paradigm.

what this inevitably ends up leading to is... what i describe as kishimoto-ing lmao. where you need a Bigger Bad to uproot your Last Big Bad. and as long as you defeat that Big Bad, all your world's troubles will be over... but then they still need to keep making video games, so GASP, the next big bad is responsible for everything that went wrong. BUT WAIT. there's an EVEN BIGGER bad behind that guy. AND ANOTHER BIGGERRRRRR BAD. and so and so forth, until you get to a situation like kaguya having engineered everything that went on over the last thousand years of ninja history for her own goals, except we've never even heard of her before, and she feels disconnected from the story and it's central themes. which is the case in point with that fucking last secret epilogue slide - a story that apparently is centered around decisions, and regret, and big stories around personal responsibilities we have to try and do the right thing, which is supported by the fact that the REAL antagonist of the game is someone secretly manipulating everyone else to do evil things. MAKE IT MAKE SOME FUCKING SENSE.

it sucks. it really sucks. it's a failure to engage with the themes of your own narrative. bioware put the topics on the table to discuss, and in the last second, simply do not have the courage to actually address it in any way that matters.

most of anyone who worked on any of the previous games is gone - we have new writers who... don't really care about dragon age. i don't think they've played the previous games - they don't seem to recognise characters from the previous installments, don't seem to understand the themes or narratives or characters from previous installments - and that lack of deep, real love for dragon age - which is where my criticism and disappointment comes from, because i wanted this to be more - shows. everything from the endings of the game, to the character dialogue, to the characterisations of reoccurring characters, to the lore drops, to the scrapping of all of the worldstate decisions and the quantum, to the marvel-esque soundtrack and weird companion opening reminiscent of a marvel title slide when opening the game... you can feel it.

and i'm sorry for it. i think we all deserved better than this.

[brodygold]

It Makes Sense

Inspired by @misctf and his post "Make It Make Sense". Be sure to check out his work too here!

Brody had just played the game of his life. As the captain and midfielder of the Golden Army, he'd pushed himself to the limit, scoring the winning goal in the last few seconds of the match. Every play, every pass, every movement on the field had just clicked. It wasn’t luck—it was strategy, precision, and heart. As the final whistle blew and his teammates rushed to celebrate, Brody couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. Tonight was his night.

The post-match celebrations began quickly, with the team planning their usual victory dinner. This time, it was Brody's turn to pick where they’d eat. He already had his heart set on his favorite fried chicken joint, but first, there was one last hurdle: a quick interview with Channel 3 News.

Channel 3 had been covering the Golden Army since the team’s inception, and Brody had been interviewed by Andrew, their dedicated sports reporter, dozens of times. The two had built a solid rapport over the years, a bond of mutual respect that often made the interviews feel more like casual chats. But as Brody walked toward the camera crew, something felt... off.

Instead of Andrew’s familiar face, a new reporter stood in front of the camera. The man was stiff and uncomfortable, his dark suit and neatly knotted tie completely out of place on the field. His expression screamed disdain, as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

Still, Brody approached with his signature easygoing smile. “Hey there, bro. Where’s Andrew?”

The man turned to him, his face twisting with visible disgust. “Andrew is sick, so I’m covering for him. My name is Zachary. And let’s get one thing straight—I’m not your bro, ‘bro.’”

The contempt in Zachary’s voice was palpable, but before Brody could respond, the cameraman started counting down. Zachary plastered on a fake smile as the broadcast began.

“And we’re back after another thrilling game of soccer, with the Golden Army emerging victorious once again. I’m here with Captain Brody, who scored the winning goal in the final seconds! Good to meet you, Brody.”

“Likewise. Glad to be here,” Brody replied smoothly, despite the lingering tension.

“So, Brody,” Zachary continued, his tone dripping with condescension, “my sources tell me you’re the one who designed the plays that won your team the match. How does a jock like you come up with such clever strategies?”

Brody chuckled, brushing off the thinly veiled insult. “It’s not that hard for me, really. I’ve always been the smart one in the group. Ask the bros—they’ll tell you.”

“A smart jock? Now that’s a good one!” Zachary laughed, his amusement clearly genuine this time.

“Well, it’s true. I’ve got a master’s degree in mathematics and statistics. But, to be honest, I found my true calling here with the Golden Army.”

Zachary’s smile faltered. “That… makes no sense! I only have a bachelor’s degree, and I’m a journalist! You can’t be both smart and a jock! You have to pick one or the other, like I did!”

Brody tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, if it means anything, I think you chose correctly, bro. Those arm muscles must have taken a lot of effort!”

Zachary blinked in confusion, but before he could retort, he felt a strange tingling sensation in his arms. His biceps began to twitch and swell, growing larger and more defined. The seams of his tailored jacket strained, and his sleeves rode up, exposing thick, powerful forearms.

“What the—” Zachary stammered, staring at his newly muscular arms in disbelief.

“And those pecs look ripe for bouncing, bro,” Brody added with a grin.

As if on cue, Zachary’s chest began to expand, his shirt straining against his growing pectoral muscles. The buttons popped off one by one, revealing a broad, chiseled chest. His tie slipped to the ground, now utterly unnecessary.

“What… what are you doing to me?” Zachary gasped, his voice wavering between fear and bewilderment.

“Just don’t worry about it, bro,” Brody said soothingly. “In fact, don’t worry about much of anything.”

At those words, something shifted in Zachary’s mind. His thoughts, once sharp and cynical, began to dull and soften. The ever-present buzz of worries and calculations faded into blissful silence. Why stress about things he couldn’t control? Why stress at all? His lips curled into a goofy grin.

“Huhuhu, yeah… guess you’re right,” Zach mumbled, his voice deeper and more relaxed.

Memories of his old life started to slip away. His prestigious journalism career, his wife, his kids—all faded like a distant dream. In their place, new memories formed: the camaraderie of the Golden Army, the joy of training with the bros, and the thrill of victory on the field. The idea of dating a woman seemed absurd now. Why would he ever want that when he had a whole team of hot bros to bond with? He could have them any time he wanted, after all

As the transformation completed, Zach’s outfit shifted. His starched dress shirt shimmered and morphed into a tight, golden soccer jersey with black details, the number 58 emblazoned on the back. His slacks became shiny gold athletic shorts, and his polished shoes turned into gold cleats. He looked every bit the part of a Golden Army player.

“How ya feeling, Zach bro?” Brody asked, his tone playful but laced with authority.

“Never better, Cap! You know I always feel great after a win, bro!” Zach flexed his bulging arms, his grin wide and carefree.

Brody smirked, giving Zach a hearty slap on the back. “Good to hear it, bro. Now let’s go grab some fried chicken. I’ll meet you on the bus.”

As Zach jogged off to join the team, Brody turned to the cameraman, who was still staring in stunned silence.

“Sorry about turning your news anchor, bro,” Brody said with a shrug.

The cameraman hesitated, then grinned. “Eh, it’s fine. He was kind of a jerk anyway.”

“Cool. Any chance I can get a copy of that footage?”

“Sure thing. I’ll have it sent to the stadium.”

“Thanks, bro.”

With that, Brody headed to the team bus, ready to celebrate the win with his bros and a big plate of fried chicken. Some people might have trouble reconciling his brilliance with his jock lifestyle, but he didn’t mind. He was always happy to help them make sense of it all.

[ninikrumbs]

risk

basketballplayer satoru gojo x reader. fluffy fluff. feat. a bit of geto, shoko and utahime.

The roar of the crowd resonates throughout the entirety of the huge gymnasium. People wearing different colors of the team they're rooting for, already screaming and hyping each other up like they all drank a can of red bull beforehand.

Amidst the noise, the squeaking of shoes could also be heard from your place at the top of the bleachers. You can see the players warming up on each side. The sight of a familiar white head of hair made your heart skip though he was too focused to notice you were even here.

You take a deep breath in as your nervous gaze swipes through the area. You bit your lip, hands fidgeting, not knowing what to do. Deciding to come here was a last minute decision, a whim, a risk. So you failed to inform anyone of your attendance, including the man who's last name was currently printed on the back of the jersey you were wearing .

Its not like you haven't been here before. You've come to countless practices, just not an official match. And in the thick of the crowd, you can't locate your friends that were surely here. You could feel pairs of eyes burning a hole on your back, probably wondering why you were wearing the jersey of the basketball teams star player.

Maybe, you should have thought this through. You didn't need to come here, you could have caught the next game where you could have actually told Satoru and your friends you were coming. Then you could have avoided this awkward situation.

But all of those thoughts gets push back when your mind races to Satoru's dejected eyes.

"Its okay, sweets. You don't have to go tomorrow." Satoru assured you as he brushes a stray hair away from your face.

You sat on the kitchen counter, with Satoru between your thighs, his big hands squeezing your hips comfortingly. "But you want me to go."

"I do wanna see my gorgeous girl cheering me on from the sidelines," You rolled your eyes at that, making him chuckle. "But, I don't want you to feel pressured. If your not comfortable making out relationship public yet then its fine."

And you know he means it. He has been nothing short of perfect throughout this budding relationship of yours. Sure, he can be a bit childish, but you liked that about him. In fact, it is still a mystery to you how you landed him in the first place. Though your insecurities had no time to properly take root with how Satoru showers you constant praises and compliments. Its like he wants your head to get as big as his, which you think is near impossible.

"Are you sure, Toru?"

He nods before pressing a kiss to your forehead, "Im sure, baby. There are still plenty of games this season. Missing this one doesn't matter."

Yet you couldn't help but notice the downhearted look in his eyes that he tried to hide by slapping on a dorky grin, but even that looked a little forced.

At that moment, the apartment doorbell rang. "Ooh, must be the pizza!" Satoru immediately started walking to the door, leaving you to your thoughts.

Its not like you didn't want to go. God knows you want nothing more than to scream your heart out as you sat on the bleachers with Shoko and Utahime. Its just the thought of everyone finding out that you were dating the star player of one of the most renowned universities in the country is a tad intimidating. Not to mention the scary fans, that look like they would have shrines built for Gojo and immediately despising anything that would come in between them and their idol.

Having a history with bullying in high school, you weren't good with hate, with the backtalking, the whispering and countless of judgemental eyes on you. Plus, sometimes your overthinking mind wins when Satoru isn't around, what if you broke up? Then everyone would know that you got dumped and that would be a million times embarrassing. Is this new relationship really worth the risk?

You sighed, damn you really needed to get a grip and grow a spine one of these days. Satoru walked back to the kitchen all giddy with two pizza boxes in hand. He grinned as he opened them one by one on the table. "Here's my pizza with cheese and crumbled oreo cookies on top."

His pizza choices made your nose scrunch everytime. "And here's your triple cheese pizza, and I got some lactaid in advance so your tum-tum won't get all weird."

You pursed your lips, your inner spiraling made you a bit emotional, as you hastily try to blink back the tears that were starting to form. Stupid Toru, It was your heart that got all weird and warm. He said that like it wasn't a big deal, like he didn't know that were gonna be deeply moved that he remembered. It really was the little things that got to you. He turns around to get the pizza cutter in one of the drawers.

Hastily, you jump down the counter and hugged him from behind. You embraced his waist tightly, nuzzling your head on his clothe back.

"Woah, whats this for? " He said, startled. "Not that Im complaining. Jump me all you want." He chuckled, clasping his big hands over your smaller ones.

"Nothing," You murmured, breathing in his scent. "I don't think you know how much I appreciate you, Toru."

Yes, you were a bit scared. But if there was anyone you would dive head first for, it was this man right here. Satoru was worth the risk.

"Well, there are someways you can sho-"

"Satoru Gojo!"

Yeah, you'd sleep on it.

So here you are. You showed up for him and somehow also for you. You were proud to be his girlfriend, jealous fans be damn. You weren't about to disappoint one of the best things that ever happened to you just because of a bunch of unwelcomed stares and whispers.

Thankfully not a minute to soon, a familiar voice calls out your name and you turn to see Shoko's surprise face that converted into a wide grin. "You actually came!"

You let out a breath of relief, finally a friendly face. "Shoko, you have no idea how glad I am to see you." "You should've told me you were coming!"

She excitedly pulls you by the arm, leading you down the stairs to the front of the bleachers, bumping into a few people that curiously stares at your oversized jersey, "That idiot is gonna be jumping hoops once he sees you."

Finally, the both of you made it to the seats right in front of where the team was warming up. Utahime jumps and gives you a hug. Obviously pleased with your arrival. "Hell yeah! Now we're a three girl cheer squad!"

Before you could take a seat Shoko pulls you by the arm once more, making you face the court. She puts a hand to her mounth as she yells, "Yo! Gojo! Look who's here!"

Suguru who hears the commotion first, nudges Satoru by the arm with a satisfied smirk on his face. Satoru turns his head, confused. His eyes lands on Shoko then on her hand that was obnoxiously pointing right on the top of your head.

The moment his eyes lands on you, he took a double take, as if he wasn't sure if his eyes were deceiving him. Clarity seems to find him as half a second later he beams at you, a wide grin breaking on his face, his bright blue eyes sparkling delight and happiness. He immediately ran towards you, screaming. "You came! You freaking came!"

You squeal as you were swept off your feet in seconds and into Gojo`s warm embrace, spinning you around in glee. You couldn't help but giggle at his unrestrained reaction, "Toru, put me down. Im getting dizzy!"

Unwillingly, he place you back on the ground, but he still held you flushed against him by the waist. "You're here, you're actually here. I just can't believe you're here."

You put your hands on his chest, rubbing soothingly as you look up at him shyly. "I couldn't miss my boyfriend's first game of the season now, could I?"

His cerulean eyes soften, gazing at you so tenderly, lips smiling gingerly, "You didn't have to do this, pretty."

"I know, but I wanted to."

Honestly, you didn't expect that you coming here would mean so much to him but the pure joy in his eyes were undeniable. How did you ever think of passing this up?

He rubs soft circles on your waist, eyes glancing at your outfit as he noticed you wearing a jersey. "Wait, are you wearing my.."

You laugh at his surprise. Pulling away, you give him a little twirl, showing off the huge Gojo printed on the back. "Of course I am. Whose else would I wear?"

"No, Its just-"

"Should I have worn Nanami's? but that wouldn't be appropria-"

You were cut short as he pulls you back to him possessively, tucking his face into your neck, making you laugh "No! You're mine!"

You could practically hear the crowd talk and whisper at Gojo's displays of affection, but honestly you didn't care right now. The only thing you cared about was the man that clung on to you like someone was about to steal you away from him.

Laughing softly, you manage to hug him back. "Im kidding, Satoru."

"Not funny." He pouts.

A tap to Satoru's back snaps the both of you out of the your little bubble. Its was Suguru, "The game's bout to start, man."

Satoru reluctantly untangles himself from you. "Yeah, yeah. Ill be right there."

"Hurry up, you can flirt with your girlfriend later."

He waves Geto off nonchalantly before he faces you again. He was gonna get scolded by his coach at this point. You push him away playfully to the direction of the court, "Go! I'll be right here."

Warm knuckles brushes your cheeks as he nods. "Cheer real loud for me, okay?" Your cheeks heat up as you give him a determined nod, "You got it!"

Geto practically drags him away from you. Halfway through the court though, he runs back to where you were standing.

"Toru?" You tilt your head.

He grins cheekily as he says, "I forgot something." Warms hands cup your face as he leans down and presses his lips to yours, your hands flew to his wrists as you kiss him back. Lips molding against his. It was short yet intense. It made your toes curl and your head spin.

"Gojo! " Utahime`s screeching voice flits through the air. "Save the kissing after the game when you win and actually deserve it!"

Gojo chuckles as he breaks away, a light blush dusting his cheeks. Your mind was still in a daze when he winks at you. "Nah, I already know Im winning."

Yep, he's definitely the risk that you would take over and over again.

Youre the risk, Im gonna take it. Obessed with this song lately.

[beuxwhoyouare]

Ready to Go

I always thought I would die young. I just don’t forsee a long life ahead for me. It’s not like sad or anything I just think I’ve done all I wanted to. There’s never been like a dream job or goal I’ve ever foresaw in my future. It’s not depression or anything, if anything I think more people should be honest with themselves about being useless and just tapping out of a long life of nothingness.

See. You’ve read this long and didn’t even notice I haven’t mentioned my name. That’s because like my life, my name is equally inconsequential.

I was pondering about ways to easily tap out of life while I sat at the bus stop waiting. Eventually I got on the bus at my usual stop to take me to my usual destination when an older white man slowly waved his hand in front of my wandering gaze.

“What’s out there?” he feebly asked in a weak voice.

I’ve never been asked something on my route before. I kinda just zone out into my own mind like this and-

“Hey kid. You keep zoning out are you okay?” he interrupted my internal thought.

It’s like he knew I was talking to myself but how?

“I’m just in my own head. Sorry did you want the window seat?” I finally replied audibly.

“No. Just making sure you’re okay. Was worried you were one of those druggies or something. Whole life ahead of you and you youngins just throw it all away.”

What a presumptive thought. He really believes that young people can’t have a complex and existential inner dialogue. I think older people don’t give us enough credit. I’m complex, I think.

*hehe*

What’s he laughing at. Wait maybe he is listening to my inner dialogue? Let’s see. Lemme think of something and see how he responds. I don’t want to die, I just want to peacefully tap out of the game of existence.

Damn nothing? He isn’t going to say anything? I’m losing my mind.

“Where do you want to go in life kid?”

HE HEARD ME I KNEW IT!

“I mean let’s say you manifested it enough. Maybe I’m here to help you move on. The worst thing you can do is live a life unfulfilled. It seems like that’s how you’re living.”

“You can’t be serious…What can you do?”

“It’s not really me, more like a pact to the deities that rule existence. It’s the law of the land. Everything in this world is all about balance. Even our lives, if one aspect is out of balance it could throw the whole world out of whack.”

“So what’s out of balance? Just because I’m tired of being aimless in life? It’s not like I’m the only aimless one right?”

“Maybe you’re not the only one, but you’re the only aimless one put in my life. I have so much I wanted to do but spent too much time wasted. I wanted kids, I wanted love, I wanted it all but got sick and spent years withering away in a hospital bed.”

….why is he telling me all this? What can I do about the law of the land? If I could help him I would but he’s talking about myths and hocus pocus.

The bus made an abrupt stop next to a big park near a historical reserve in town. The old man grabbed my arm and dragged me with him off the bus, across the street to the park.

“Dude your boney arm is hurting me. I’ll follow you just let me go”

“We’re here anyway. I can feel one of the deity’s presence around us. All you have to do is say your true hearts desire out loud for it to become true. You can’t move on and I can get a chance to fix my life’s shortcomings.”

My true hearts desire? Doesn’t he get it my problem is I don’t have a desire. There’s nothing fueling me.

“That! Say that out loud.”

“I KNEW YOU COULD HEAR ME! But how?”

“Your inner dialogue was calling to me like a siren. I’m telling you I was meant to hear it. To run into you! This moment was meant to happen.”

Honestly resisting the occult is too much work anyway. I don’t know why I’m even poking and prodding into his story. What is it going to do for me in the end? He’s offering me a way out.

“I don’t have desire. I don’t have a goal. I’m not sad, I’ve lived an okay life but I’m done.”

“I want a real chance to live life. I payed my dues. Please all I ask for is a real chance.”

If felt like all the sounds of nature stopped. The sun suddenly disappeared and it felt like a spotlight appeared above us. All I could see was the old man when he disappeared in front of me. It all disappeared in front of me. Then silence. Well everything was silent from then on. My request to tap out was granted.

“Keven. I like that name, I definitely look like a Keven now. This is a good place to start I think?”

I feel bad that a young person could fall out of love with existing. There’s so much young people have to live for and he just wanted to die? I’ll live the best live for the both of us.

I’m quite the looker now too so that should probably help on the having kids and starting a family front. Although he’s a little short for my liking. You know what no I’m going to be grateful for this new life I’ve been given. There’s still some memories in my head that belong to him. I think he might be gay….well I never got to explore those things in my time but it doesn’t help the kids dream.

Whatever I think starting today I’m going to be Bi. I’m gonna search through these memories and continue working out. Seems like it has a positive impact on people’s outlook and morale. Maybe that’s where the kid went wrong. He didn’t seek ways to be happy. I’m choosing happiness and choosing to be fulfilled.

Let’s start by jerking this thick beer can growing under my shorts though…and maybe seeing if this hot couple in the gym might want a newly confident Latino twunk third.

[acethedria]

Here’s a rant: Drawtectives is a weird but interesting format for a series. It’s very on rails but is still entirely improvized. It’s honestly barely a TTRPG or actual play series, I always describe it as a “pre-planned mystery gone about via improvized comedy”

There’s honestly verrry verrry little player choice for the most part. If the players don’t notice something, Julia brings it up or walks them through it before its too late. All NPCs and clues are planned in advance, and its not like the players can just rummage around and go anywhere they want like a typical TTRPG. They go into rooms in order, speak to the 1 or 2 people there, and can sometimes interact with background elements.

But it weirdly feels entirely player driven. What evidence is found when, what about the world is established, and the characters’ stories during the series are entirely decided improvizationally by the players along with Julia.

For example: The Drawtectives were always going to receive each piece of the Justice family knife, but they didn’t consciously pick up on enough clues, so Julia had to make Fontaine an exposition-dump character. But the players are the ones who established the Northern Tribes, Jacob saying York pissed outside led to Julia saying Harper got peed on leading to immediate antagonism and eventually Piss Boy, they created a bond with each other as friends, made Jancy into a motherly character, etc.

Its simultaneously restrictive like a video game and full of freedom and creativity.

Its kind of like a series of improv shows with a unifying narrative.

It reminds me of those mystery board games, where it provides the thought and background of a mystery narrative but allows the player(s) to do whatever they want to do in order to solve it. Its exactly what mystery video games fail to capture.

[creepyclothdoll]

I set Angel Free

All of this is gonna sound pretty mean but let me preface this by saying that this girl, Angel, thought she was God’s gift. And I mean that in the most literal sense. Like she’d literally introduce herself by saying, 

“My name is Angel, because I’m a gift from Heaven.”

She’d say it with this smile that was so fake and sickly-sweet you could taste your teeth rotting just looking at it. All her mannerisms were stolen from disney movies, like how she’d talk in this high-pitched little girl voice that she thought made her seem so cute. Like, yeah, yeah, you’re supposed to be nice to people like that, but it was so hard to tolerate her. 

So we messed with her. It wasn’t because she was in a wheelchair, I wanna make that clear. I don’t have a problem with people in wheelchairs. Just Angel. You’d feel the same way if you knew her. Honestly everyone did. 

She literally didn’t know where babies came from. Like one time my friends were joking about having Nick Jonas’s babies and Angel was like “how would you make the baby his?” And we had to literally explain to her where babies come from and ask where she thought they came from. She said, and I quote,

“When a mommy makes a very special wish, and gives it a special kiss and sends it to God, God cuts a piece of Heaven in the shape of a baby and wraps it in the wish and sends it back to the mommy, to grow up and be loved and kept safe on the earth forever.”

This was, by far, the stupidest thing I ever heard in my entire life. So of course I responded by telling her her mommy was lying to her, most likely because she was a whore. 

This made everyone at lunch laugh really hard because her mom, Ms CJ, was the school’s frumpiest old cat lady, and she literally had those 80’s coke-bottle glasses like that guy from Trailer Park Boys and the idea of her getting sexed up for dollar bills was enough to make you piss yourself laughing. 

Angel started crying and doing that annoying pouting thing. Frankly I doubt she even knew what a whore was, just that it was bad. I think she wanted to storm off, but it’s not like she could go very far. Which I pointed out as well, to uproarious laughter. 

Okay again, I don’t have an issue with people in wheelchairs. It was just really easy to mess with her. But this was the incident that, for some reason, made everyone think of me as the Designated Angel Watchman. Like, any time Angel did anything weird and cringey, everyone would look at me like they were Jim from the Office and I was the camera. And then if I didn’t say something funny about it, they’d get all disappointed. But when I did say something funny, it became the new Angel Thing Of The Week that everyone would be saying in the halls between classes, and I’d feel like a genius. Did it go too far sometimes? Sure. But that’s not my fault. All Angel ever had to do was act like a normal person for once and it all would have stopped. 

Angel was homeschooled her whole life until seventh grade, which is probably why she was so weird. 

I wanna be clear– she wasn’t like, mentally disabled or anything like that. That would make me look pretty bad. She was just weird. She was always singing by herself– pop songs, disney princess songs, sometimes songs in japanese from anime. She was convinced she had the best voice in the class, and flaunted it all the time like she thought we were gonna be impressed. She wore these huge ugly cat sweaters with glitter and frills every single day. 

And any time we watched a movie in class, she’d laugh this awful snickering long laugh at ANY joke and then bawl her goddamn eyes out if there was even a little bit of a sad part. It was so annoying!

She refused to do anything outside her comfort zone– no scary stories, no new foods, no games she’d never played before. She turned her nose up at anything unfamiliar.

So let me be clear: Angel deserved most of what we did to her. 

But she didn’t deserve what I did that last day.

Before I met Angel, I thought Ms CJ was okay. After, though, I realized she was batshit. She only let Angel come to our school for seventh grade because she knew she’d be Angel’s homeroom teacher and that she’d be able to flit in and coddle her throughout the day. Ms CJ was Angel’s constant guardian, which should be humiliating for anyone who has shame, but Angel loved the attention. She’d beg Ms CJ to stay with her longer every time she popped in during class. And that sucked, because I couldn’t say shit about anything cringe Angel did when Ms CJ was around, so I missed a lot of really good opportunities to mess with her. 

Ms CJ always sat with her daughter at lunch, which was honestly bad parenting because there was no way Angel would ever be able to make any friends like that. Ms CJ never let Angel join the rest of us for recess. Or for field trips. Once during a group project in French class, as a joke, I invited Angel to a made-up party in the woods. Angel replied by saying,

“I can’t go if it’s in the woods, silly! My mommy doesn’t let me outside!”

She said this like it was the most normal thing in the world for her, so I asked some clarifying questions. She explained, in her girly sing-song voice, that she’s not ever allowed to be outside for more than a few seconds at a time, and only when her mommy is there to hold her hand. 

“My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost,” she said.

“It’s not like you can run away,” I joked.

“I can run,” Angel replied, pouting. “Look.” She kicked her legs slightly. I heard the clack of chains. 

That was the first time I ever noticed that Angel was shackled around her ankles. 

“I run all the time at home,” Angel bragged. “I run alllll over, over all the rooms. I wish I could run here too, but it’s too dangerous. The windows,” she added, like that would clarify it. I was baffled. So she didn’t even need the wheelchair.

“Um, why are you chained? Are you like, under house arrest or something?” I asked.

“No. My mommy just doesn’t want me to get lost. She’s the only one with the key.”

“Your mommy sounds like a psycho. You should call the cops,” I replied.

The French teacher overheard her crying and she got me sent to the principal’s office again. But I swear this time I wasn’t being smart or anything, I was genuinely freaked out for her. I told my friends, who all agreed with me that it was weird. But I guess I hadn’t been the first one to notice the chains. The others who had assumed it was because Angel was like, prone to fits or something. That made sense for Angel, but it still made me feel weird and didn’t sit right.

My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost.

I started to feel sorry for her. She was still weird and annoying, but she was weird and annoying because her mom was out of her mind and wouldn’t let her be a normal kid. How was she supposed to learn to be normal if she couldn’t even go outside, for god’s sake? 

I still messed with Angel when she did weird stuff like quote anime characters in class and bring stuffed animals to school. But if it was ever just her and me, I was nice to her and asked her stuff about her life. 

Her favorite movie was The Little Mermaid. No, she had never been to summer camp. Her favorite time of the week was church. She disliked onions and wanted to be a vegetarian except that her mom was very insistent about her getting enough protein in her diet. She loved those Warrior cat books and wanted to be a veterinarian someday. She didn’t have a dad. Ms CJ took the shackles off her ankles only once they were inside their house and all the doors and windows were closed and locked. That was also when Ms CJ took the locked metal bar off of her chair so she could get up. The bar went over her waist and prevented her from standing. She wore those big ugly cat sweaters every day so we wouldn’t see it. Her mom didn’t want people to know about her special condition, which, as far as I could tell, was all made-up. Any time I asked about her “condition,” she’d just say some stuff about being a very special heaven baby or whatever.

“Do you ever think about running away?” I asked finally. “Why don’t you just… leave?”

She looked shocked.

“Of course not!” she said. “I love my mommy. Where would I even go?” She shuddered visibly. 

The shudder pissed me off. I blew up at her and called her a whiny scaredy baby until she cried, and I got sent to the principal again. 

 She didn’t even want to be normal. That’s what pissed me off the most. 

It was springtime, and the snow was finally mostly gone. I’d been in Mr Bevends’ science class before, so I knew what to expect that day– first real nice day of spring was always a “class outside” day. We’d go out and look at moss and leaf buds and stuff and he’d talk about natural changes during the season. It was all a big excuse for us to get outside– no one liked it more than Mr Bevends himself. He was so excited to announce we were taking class outside, he didn’t even notice Angel’s face go stark white as he led the rest of the class out the doors.

“I– I can’t–” she stuttered, but I interrupted her.

“It’s the most beautiful day in months,” I said. “It’s a perfect day. You’ll love it.”

“I’m not allowed,” she whispered, embarrassed. 

“You wanna be a baby forever?” I said. “Come on. You’ve never broken a single rule in your life. Live a little.”

After a long moment, Angel nodded. She followed me out the back doors of the school, onto the sidewalk. I walked next to her for awhile. She looked scared, but also fascinated by the dripping icicles from the roof gutter above us, and the ice-blue sky above, and the rows of black trees stretching up into the air. 

“It’s cold,” she said. 

“Yeah, that happens when you’re outside for more than a few seconds.”

“I think… I like the cold.”

We caught up to the rest of the science class, and listened to Mr Bevends talk about leaves and crap. Angel oscilated between this vibrating excitement and a frightened, hunted look, like her mom was gonna show up at any second and punish her for disobeying and doing one normal thing in her life. Angel touched the trees reverently. My friends made fun of her for “fondling the foliage.” I didn’t join in this time. I had bigger things planned.

When we broke off into groups of two, I went with Angel. My friends knew I was up to something great then, so they followed us, chuckling eagerly. I grinned back at them when Angel wasn’t looking.

We were supposed to identify different types of trees in the woods behind the school. I helped push Angel’s chair up the hill– it was insanely heavy. The wheels snagged on the muddy grass, but it didn’t matter. It’s not like she actually needed the thing.

“What are you doing?” Angel asked with rising terror as I leaned over her and produced the key. 

Everyone knew Mr Bevends always had class outside the first nice day of spring. It was really easy to slip the key from Ms CJ’s lanyard when she always left it out on her desk during homeroom. It was the one with little white wings on the chain. 

“I’m setting you free,” I said. I unlocked the shackles around her feet first, then the bar around her waist. She screamed at me to stop the entire time, but I knew I was doing the right thing. Someone had to teach her to be independent. Someone had to throw her out of her comfort zone. 

And that’s what I did. I set Angel free.

Angel rose from the chair. 

And rose. And rose.

Her shoes went over her head. She kicked her legs wildly as they drifted rapidly upwards. Angel shrieked and tried to grab onto the top of the chair– the handles, even trying to clutch a handful of my hair– desperate to stay anchored to the ground. But it was too late. She was already six feet in the air. 

Then twelve. 

Then thirty.

I couldn’t do anything other than watch on in shock as Angel shot up into the sky like a helium balloon. She twisted and clawed at the open air. 

It happened in seconds. One second, we were watching Angel make frantic grabbing motions at the ground, howling with terror, and the next second all we could see of her was the glint of the sunlight on her glittery pink cat sweater as she disappeared up into the vast emptiness above.

When Mr Bevends came to see what was the matter, all any of us could do was to point up. But by then, she was just a pinprick against the deep, endless blue sky. 

Then there was nothing.

[dizzybunni]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ Things I’m excited for in my vtuber dr 🍬

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕ Hear me out cake trend ! 🍬 ꒱ ˚₊

ε๑з ; So obviously I can’t truly do this one without a hand cam, but I’ve seen clever work arounds where ppl will just use a picture of a cake and paste their ‘hear me outs’ photos on the png cake. So the trend can be done digitally (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) ! I feel like this would be a fun stream idea to do with another vtuber too, since typically the cakes are done with 2+ ppl !

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕ Compilations ! 🍬 ꒱ ˚₊

ε๑з ; Fans doing compilations of clips of me, like ‘Stitches getting jumpscared for ＿ mins’ or ‘Stitches out of context’ compilations ! I genuinely think those things are really cute, since it shows your fans latch onto certain moments and enjoy your content (*´꒳`*) !

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕ Cover songs ! 🍬 ꒱ ˚₊

ε๑з ; A lot of vtubers do this, even if singing isn’t their niche ! And I feel like singing My R or Levan Polka would heal a bit of my inner child (°▽°) ,, but I’m never doing a vtuber concert lmao. Not after that guy got made fun of to death.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕ Streaming dev progress ! 🍬 ꒱ ˚₊

ε๑з ; Making games is a big part of this dr. Just the thought of being able to share and brainstorm ideas and progress to an audience makes me happy, not to mention having the skill set needed to create video games (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) !

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕ Debut stream ! 🍬 ꒱ ˚₊

ε๑з ; Where (mostly) everything starts! I’m not sure how to explain my excitement for this, I think it’s just the thought of officially kickstarting my vtubing journey and building my reputation from there and getting to see how it goes from there (even though I did script I am successful) ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ !

『 Borders by kodaswrld on tumblr and header by dihcake on pinterest ! 』

[destinylaurier]

The Alchemy

a/n: thank you for choosing this to read! this is my first post on tumblr, and i'm excited to share this with you! as someone who likes to read, i just couldn't find enough stories about my man here, and i'd like to share what i had in mind if you'll let me. i really hope you enjoy reading this, because it is long af, and it's been in the drafts for several days now!!

summary : there's no such place like home. and for you, home, meant san diego. top gun has called upon the top pilots their programme has ever produced, and that includes you. but it also includes him. the one that got away. you never took it across the line, but it had always felt like more. it had always been push and pull with the two of you, and you could curse the universe for reuniting you. but would you, really?

pairing : bradley bradshaw x f!reader (callsign : karma)

warnings : alcohol use, inaccurate navy references, just some good old fluff.

word count : 3.6k words

North Island, San Diego.

Top Gun.

Home.

It held many memories. Too many. And you were sure it would weigh down on you as you walk through the doors of the Hard Deck.

There was no doubt that's where everyone would be headed the eve before the first day of training, just to cool off before they'd be stressed out by the mission parameters first thing in the goddamn morning, you were sure.

You'd taken a shower, and slipped on a figure-hugging pair of denims, a white tee, and your branded hand-me-down brown leather jacket that had those beige ruffles you liked so much.

Making sure your black Bronco was locked, you turn towards the doors of the Hard Deck in front of you. Behind you, the sun was glaring with a beautiful mix of orange and yellow, a warm contrast to the still bright blue sky.

The Hard Deck was a constant in your life, at least four years ago. Games were played, songs were sung, drinks had been drank. And there had almost been… never mind.

Okay, maybe you'd been standing outside for way too long, and it was a form of stalling.

It is.

Huffing out a quick breath, your head jerks to the side as you place your hands on the handles, pushing inwards. The bell rings, and it seems to announce your arrival to pretty much every person in the bar, most of them turning to you mid-conversation or just out of interest.

Here goes nothing.

You take not more than four steps inside, and your head turns at the booming Southern drawl from deep inside.

"Is that who I think it is?!" Jake 'Hangman' Seresin teases, with that jerky smile that was seemingly always plastered right across his face. His arms are out, one holding a pool stick, and the other a beer, as he begins walking toward you.

"Karma, my dear, how've you been?" He passes you the beer, and you take a long sip, not bothering to greet him at all, because that's just how you've been. And to deal with Hangman, you'd have to take at least a sip or two. Oh, scratch that, maybe a bottle or two.

But you know he was a good man deep inside. Very, very, very deep inside.

“Oh, you know, Bagman, worse now that I’ve seen your face.” You nod as a reassurance, giving him that sarcastic smile of yours that made his brighter, teeth shining as he chuckles, shaking his head as he looks down towards his boots.

“Well, I thought they’d sent the invitations to the best of us, Coyote, but it seems it went to anyone…” And there he is…

“Last I recalled, you’re the one who leaves your wingmen behind, Hangman.” You snark back, shrugging off your jacket and placing it over the backrest of a chair, turning your back to him as you wave at Penny behind the bar.

“Penny, it’s been a while…” The woman just smiles at you, pouring a glass of her finest Tennessee she learnt you appreciate over those years you’d come to her bar almost every night.

You raise the shot glass to her as a thank you, downing it and letting it burn down the way of your throat, a pleasant yet bitter feeling that you were fond of.

This place reeked of him.

Those deep feelings and emotions that you’d tried so very hard to toss to the very back of your mind, slowly, steadily, it was all coming back to you as you look around the bar.

The pool table, where you’d challenged one another so many times, the piano, where you’d sang your hearts out almost every night you spent together at the bar, and the stools, where sometimes, you’d spill something by out to each other, and it’s somehow just bring you closer than before. Every single time.

You catch a glimpse of Natasha by the table and sigh in relief. You were glad you didn't have to suffer Hangman alone. You grab your jacket, shooting a 'bye, Pen!' to the older woman on the other side of the bar, who replies back, and you could hear the smile on her face. Natasha also seems happy that you'd showed up, holding out her hands for a hug.

You accept the embrace with a chuckle, rubbing her back and smiling into her shoulder in happiness. Phoenix had always been the low-maintenance friend. Wherever you'd leave it off, it could build back up again, restoring itself like a puzzle, and it'd remain constant until work stepped in.

She introduces you to Bob, her cute back-seater from Lemoore, who seemed like the shy kind. The two of you started talking, and you teach him the perfect way to line up a shot and take it. When he shoots the shot, and makes three balls into the pit, you clap your hands as Bob jumps in ecstatic-ness. You offer to buy him a beer, and he agrees, but only if you'd take one with him.

As you walk back towards the bar, there’s just a tiny, tiny change in the atmosphere that you’re able to pick up as the bell rings, meaning someone’s entered. That someone, could very well be someone completely not related to whatever was going on in your life, or someone very significant.

Secretly, you hoped it was the significant.

You'd concluded, the seats by the bar were way too close to the entrance, because the way you could practically feel the breeze blocked by him, it made you feel shivers across your body.

Okay, okay, maybe you shouldn’t think about this right now. Or ever again.

You down the second shot Penny pours for you, unaware of the knowing look she gives, knowing you’d need it for the events of the night. And Hangman.

And you knew who.

Or maybe you’d just get drunk on your feelings. Who knows?

The familiar glint in the air is cleared out when you see him.

Broader shoulders, grown mustache, and he’d gotten an inch or two taller somehow. The aviators looked good on him. So did the Hawaiian shirt. But you knew that.

His lips are curled up, and you assume it’s due to the excitement of being here. Being called up was exciting, sure, but it means that you’re probably one of those Top Gun wouldn’t mind losing in a dogfight or flight.

But you’ve been doing this long enough to know how to make it out. Most of the times.

“Bradshaw! Is that you?” Phoenix calls upon him like it’s been eons since they’d seen him. He just smiles, walking over to the farthest corner of the bar Penny made sure had the largest pool table for them.

He holds a mixture of smug and sheepishness to his expression, probably because he was the most dressed, in his true fashion. Just like the pictures your father had shown you.

He nears the pool table, just as Natasha rounds the corner of it, lining up her shot, “This is how we find out you’re state-side?”

Bradley winces just a bit, sheepishness growing as he replies, looking around the bar and placing his aviators in the v of his shirt, “Thought I’d surprise you back..”

Natasha simply hums in response, before lining up her shot and shooting it, pool stick jabbing, very intentionally, in his stomach, making him groan and hunch over.

You hold back the loud laugh you were sure to let out if it hadn’t been for Bradley’s eyes meeting your own.

And it’s so familiar all of a sudden.

Those butterflies that had flutteringly rushed up and down your back, the warmth on your cheeks which were surely maroon, the twists in your gut, all of it, back, for a second of eye contact.

“Guess I surprised you back.” Natasha replies, pressing her lips into a thin line at the man still hunched over.

Her reply makes him look over at Natasha, as he stands straight after pushing his palms against his thighs to steady himself, patting her twice on the forearm.

Then, he looks at you again.

It’s almost like he’s studying you, because you thought it’d be a fluttering glance like always. But it wasn’t that.

He says your name with a tone, one that leaves those butterflies in your stomach dancing once more around, just as the chill returns.

“Bradley.” You hate that you sound so breathless.

You tell yourself that it’s just Bradley, the one you grew up with, the one you went to high school with, and then the one who you trained to be the best of the best with. He was your best friend, and even if you hadn’t talked in what felt like ages, things would never change between the two of you. Especially not for the worse.

That’s just how close you were.

But then the heart steps in. And it’s a struggle of do or don’t, because if you do, you’re probably letting go of this beautiful bond you two hold. But if you don’t, it’s just more heart break watching him take those girls home. The prettier ones.

“You definitely know how to make an entrance, don’t ya’?” That smile on your face slips on like a glove, and you watch him as he looks down, the slightest tinge of pink coating his cheeks, the slightest shift of his hair, that looked perfect even when it was messy.

Green hazel eyes meet yours, and you’re enthralled at being able to actually see him face to face. He just seemed so much more real, and pretty from up close. Those random midnight phone calls could never do him any justice.

“Well, I learnt from the best…” Okay, maybe you made a few wild entrances in school. But he was right there by your side, reluctant, but just happy.

The two of you were chaos together, always causing trouble, even when you wore pigtails and he had that awful bowl-cut your eighteen-year-old-selves would cringe at. Even when he was the man of the baseball game and you were on the bleachers, cheering him on, and probably the loudest.

One day, a normal day, you caught yourself staring. And then, came the what-if’s. Thinking about the how’s. And the why nots.

The pining was excruciating. Having to be so close to him, but yet, so far away.

You’d chicken out every time you mustered up the courage. You’d watch as he backs away to his car and heads home as the kiss on your forehead left a lingering chill.

You’d like to think you had gotten over him. But standing here felt like standing on a tightrope with no net below, like if you fell, like the first time, you’d keep plummeting to endless nothingness, hopelessly in love with someone who could never be with someone like you.

No, no.

You’re good enough. And if he couldn’t see that, even after all these years and giving up on practically everything for him, then that’s his loss.

And it's a loss that would be heavy on your heart. Because this had been here ages long. Just like that shot of tequila was making you feel.

He steps forward, his hand out at his side as he gestures questioningly for a hug with that raise of a brow and that grin you’d loved all these years.

And you fall off, beginning your descent.

You step into his warm arms, wrapping yours around the back of his neck as you close your eyes at the familiarity, ignoring the chill from when you could his arms around your back, your chin resting on his shoulder.

That was one thing about him you also liked, his warmth. His comfort. His way of converting your frown into the brightest smiles you’ve ever smiled within an instant. How his mere presence could make you giddy and happy. Just him, and you'd remember what home felt like.

This was great. This is where you wished you could stay. It was upsetting, knowing he'd never like you the way you'd want him to. But whatever this was, it was good enough. Just the pure thrill of wanting, was enough.

You step back first, smiling up at him when he grins down at you.

The riffs of 'Slow Ride' is what catches your attention first. Then, Hangman steps into the playpen.

You notice the way intimidation subtly hangs from Bradley's face, as it falls flat, the slight narrowing of his eyes.

Yes, Hangman and Rooster never got along together. Bradley tried to be the bigger man first, but Hangman would piss him off in some way that would rock him off his rails, and one day, he just snapped.

"Bradshaw. As I live and breathe." Hangman's tone is natural, as he steps forward, showing off his pearly whites with a crinkle of his lips. Bob, amidst lining up a shot in the game, stands aloof when his cue stick is snatched by the blonde. He stands up, not leaning forward anymore, looking around like a lost puppy, just as Fanboy pats him on the shoulder in reassurance.

You narrow your eyes at Jake, at just how much of an ass he could be. All the damn time. Strike one, Jake. Maybe you'd get to punch him this time after all.

"Hangman. You look," Bradley's eyes glance up and down, the corner of his lips pulled up the slightest, "good."

Jake lines up his shot in what seems like a fraction of a second, and you're sure to roll your eyes.

"Well, I am good, Rooster. I'm very good."

He makes the shot, without looking down, perfectly sinking three balls in.

"In fact, I'm too good to be true." Jake adds, and that's your cue. You roll your eyes, but not before you catch a glimpse of Bradley looking over at you with an expression that said, 'can you believe this guy?'.

"So," Payback steps in, and for that you're mighty grateful, tired of seeing Rooster and Hangman compare sizes for what seemed like the billionth time, "anybody know what this special detachment is about?"

Your attention diverts, and so does everyone else's. You were glad to have received mail, besides Bradley's usual letters and a few other financial statements, and surprised to realize the stamp was Top Gun's.

The letter was straight to the point, but not very informative, just something along the lines of, 'pack your bags and come be our bitches for the next month'.

But seriously. You remembered what your first detachment letter was like, clear as a crystal, and it held some sort of information. All you new about the current mission, was that there was a chance you'd get to be team leader. And you weren't going to pass up that opportunity.

"No, mission's a mission. They don't confront me." Jake's leaning against the pool table in front of Bradley, meaning you could get a clear whiff of Axe body spray off of him. You try to hold back your grimace. Keyword : try.

"What I wanna know," Jake's eyes meet your's with that godawful cocky smirk he'd made his signature for practically everything, "is who's gonna be team leader?"

And then he looks back at Bradley, his smirk widening even more, "And which one of y'all, has what it takes to follow me."

You let out a scoff, narrowing your eyes and raising your brows at his words.

Just how much farther up his ass was his head?

"Hangman," Bradley replies, "the only place you'll lead anyone is an early grave." That cuts it deep. Flashbacks come about and you try hard not to shudder.

Jake's off the table now, stepping further and further towards Bradley, who stood amused just as he neared, "But that's just you, ain't it, Rooster?"

"You're snug on that porch, waiting for just the right moment," Jake'd like to think so, but his eyes flicker towards you for a brief second, before going back to taunt Bradley again, "that never comes."

Bradley keeps his calm, ever the older man amongst the two of them, simply smiling in amusement. Jake leans just the tiniest bit closer to Bradley, not even a crinkle in his smile disappearing, “I love this song.”

And then he backs off, heading off to the bar, leaving everyone grimacing. Literally, everyone.

“Well, he hasn’t changed.” You speak up, watching Jake charm Penny. Back at the Academy, he was just the same. The only difference was, he was your friend. He was Bradley’s friend. At least they wouldn’t snipe at one another then, and simply tolerate each other’s presence. God knows what happened between them suddenly, making them the only rivals amongst your entire class.

“Nope. Sure hasn’t.” Bradley shakes his head just once, watching Jake too. He shakes his head once again, almost like he was slipping out of living the possibility that someday they would have one another’s backs.

Though, you were glad the tension had been cut when Jake’s stride began.

With every step he took, you felt like you could let loose now, and not be alert about Jake and Bradley getting into a cat fight, because, damn, could these both get in a tussle.

Without another word, Bradley’s hand wraps around your wrist, and he begins walking towards the table at the front, dragging you along with him. And you let him, knowing exactly where this was going to go.

If you’d have asked Penny Benjamin who made the most chaos on a coincidentally calm evening, she’d say, Rooster and Karma. Because the way the two of you would sing, it’d entrance the crowd and compel them to practically huddle around the two of you, singing just as loudly.

Yes, the songs would make people go even more crazy for drinks, but Penny was definitely over her ear drums tearing. Though, she was glad to see you both so close, knowing just how much the two of you had been through together, yet you’d stay by each other’s side.

And there was a possibility where you’d gotten drunk drunk and opened your heart out to Penny because she’d lent you her ears to disturb with your problems. She knew just how much you loved Rooster, and she knew the limits to where you’d go for him, and him, for you. It was visible. And it seemed natural.

You’d always be grateful for what you had with him because there was nothing like this.

And, there was nothing like the power of an unrequited love. Yes, okay, it would make tears fall out of your eyes, yes, it would make an agonizing knot in your throat, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Worst part is, you don’t even know how it began. It just happened. And it happened all too fast, and all too deep.

When you reach the piano, Bradley sits down, lending you a smile you swore sparkled underneath the yellow comforting light of the bar. You leant against the piano, a smile naturally covering your face as you watch him fiddle with the piano for the first few seconds. He plays a random melody, one that sends shivers down your spine because you know just how much fun you’ll have tonight, right here, beside him and everyone else.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, approaching from the back was Natasha, beer in her hand and smile on her face, followed by the other boys surrounding the piano by your side.

Natasha knew. From the very beginning. In fact, she was always the one encouraging you to make a move because she was “tired of seeing you make heart eyes at him”.

So, here you were. Right where you wanted to be. Right with whom you yearned to be.

You let the worries and tension knot out of your shoulders for the night, singing in utmost happiness and carelessness for howsoever your voice sounded for once, for howsoever you were with your friends for once.

Bradley just wishes you’d notice the way he looked at you as he sang, “You’re fine, you’re so kind! I’mma tell the world that you’re, mine, mine, mine, mine!”

Because he so wished you were.

[ssruis]

Don't look now but another bell has hit the sekai

Oh great heavens [coughing up blood] [sounds of bones breaking] [audible wailing and sobbing] [falling down ten flights of stairs] [harsh wheezing] [death rattle] yehag im good.

everyone who said ena would be transphobic take a walk of shame in your massive clown shoes. I’m not even a niigo reader (I’ll catch up one day, I swear) (<- she keeps saying this) but having read the first mizuena event and the picnic event and the ena painting mixed focus etc idk how you could ever think that Ena wouldn’t accept mizuki in an instant. “I’m bad at waiting but I’ll wait for you” <- absolute madwoman. she is so full of love for her friends and she cares so much about mizuki and she just wants her to be happy.

Also ecstatic that mizuki is being given acceptance and kindness. She has suffered enough. It is time for peaceful wind chimes no more ominous bells. And so so so relieved none of the dumbass theories that mizuki would cut her hair or detransition or worse held up. (I’ll spare you the inarticulate rage those theories made me feel. What I will say: what purpose would that serve beyond contrived and heavy handed angst? How does that fit with mizuki’s character? What message would it be sending to torture a canonically transfem character like that, especially in a time where transphobia - esp transmisogyny - is on the rise? Do the transfem people who see themselves in mizuki need to see people frothing at the mouth hoping for more pain? Was Mizuki being outed in such an awful way too boring for you? Does prsk being a game about hope and improvement and growth and friendship make you seethe?)

[misshoneyimhome]

willy the swiftie is my favorite! what fic would you write for him since cardigan is his favorite song?

Oh babe, this sparks so many ideas ❤️ I suppose it really depends on whether William is more of a lyrics kind of guy or a melody kind of guy—does he actually pay attention to the lyrics and feel a connection to the story, or does he just enjoy the vibe, letting the soothing sounds help him relax 🧘🏼‍♀️?

I can absolutely picture him being the latter, which gives such cosy, lazy sofa vibes. The two of you lounging on the couch with a film or TV show you’ve both seen so many times that there���s no need to pay much attention. His thumb softly tracing circles on your arm as you lean against his chest, both of you simply enjoying the stillness and each other’s company.

But if he’s the type who really listens to the lyrics, trying to understand the meaning and connect with it, then that could inspire such a different moment -

➼｡ﾟ

Cardigan I William Nylander ✐

William Nylander wasn’t the type to dwell on the past. Sure, he’d occasionally get nostalgic about his childhood in Sweden or reminisce about a big hockey win from years ago, but he was more of a live in the moment kind of bloke. Unless it involved hockey stats, line combinations, or plays, he didn’t overthink much.

But over the past few weeks, something peculiar had started to happen. A specific song kept cropping up—first on the radio in his car, then in the middle of a shuffle on his Spotify playlist. Cardigan by Taylor Swift.

At first, he hadn’t thought much of it. It was catchy, sure, but not the sort of song he’d usually pay attention to. Yet, for some reason, he found himself letting it play instead of skipping it. And then, one evening, as he sat alone in his Toronto flat after practice, the lyrics stopped him in his tracks.

“And when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favourite.”

The line tugged at something deep inside him, stirring a memory he hadn’t allowed himself to revisit in years. He leaned back on the sofa, staring out at the city lights, the words echoing in his head.

“You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding.”

A sharp pang spread through his chest—unexpected, almost like his heart had skipped a beat. And just like that, your face appeared in his mind, vivid and unshakable.

He thought of you.

The way you used to look at him with those eyes that seemed to see straight through him, past all the bravado and the hockey jerseys. The sound of your laugh when he’d tease you about your so-called “armchair coaching,” only for you to throw some obscure stat back at him to prove him wrong. The way you’d made him feel like he was more than just a player, more than just a number on a jersey.

He hadn’t let himself think about you in years. Not since that last argument—the one where you’d accused him of caring more about hockey than you, and he’d said you deserved someone who wouldn’t have to split his life between love and a career.

But now, as the song played softly in the background, it was as though the lyrics were unlocking something he’d carefully tucked away. He thought about the way you used to call him “Willy” with that teasing lilt, the way you’d sit beside him at the rink, bundled in scarves and gloves, cheering him on.

He thought about how much he missed you.

William ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself for letting his mind wander like this. It wasn’t like him. He was the sort of guy who kept moving forward, who focused on the next game, the next goal, the next win.

But as Cardigan faded into the next song, the weight in his chest lingered. It wasn’t just the music. It was you. You had always been there, somewhere in the back of his mind, like a favourite cardigan tucked away but never truly forgotten.

And for the first time in years, William allowed himself to wonder: Did you ever think about him, too?

[nugromancer]

Veilguard Photodump (Spoiler Edition)

End Game Spoilers (mostly me gushing ab art direction (￣y▽,￣)╭ ) under the cut

I can't get over how stunning the light and colour design is in this game. Funniest thing I noticed was that, while treading through any area, there were a lot of very obvious "Photo Opportunities" where the map designer was like Hey. Hey. Come over here for this little bit of treasure haha. Oooohhh but maybe you can take a moment to enjoy the view? (we worked so hard on it please look pleasepleapspslelpeas) And it's banger after banger of beautiful scenery!

I want to get on this level where I can convey something so gd big. It's much more obvious how massive a Titan is when Rook is in frame, but even without, that's a big lad!!! Huge sucker for a good cloud cap that lets the sun peak through. Literal Silver Lining.

This shot from the end of the Corruption questline (and if you complete the Dreadwolf's Memories + Convince Mythal to help) is great. Like our lady's dragon form is beautifully lit, she's got a spotlight and everything!! And it looks natural. It looks like the sun managed to poke through the blight on this one place.

Also allow me to giggle and kick my feet because not only does Dragon!Mythal's design FUCK (look at that tri-crown horn formation like YEEESSSSSS THAT'S MY BITCH!!!!)

She's also PINK AND PURPLE?? LIKE HELLO??? The lighting is absolutely saturating her scales (plus she's breathing lightning, which glows violet/blue, adding to the effect) so it's brighter than it probably is. But what a fantastic coloration none-the-less!!

End-game Arc doesn't fuck around either. The gold ring from the eclipse against that eye-searing magenta is just. Augh. Ough. Foreboding has never looked so damn pretty.

(Also this general area is one of my favourite places in the Lighthouse. The lighting is just so on point. I have a dozen other photos of this section bc I always stop to admire it lmao.)

That magenta is striking. You'd expect it to be solid red across the board! But once we're in the "real" world we get those warmer tones you would normally associate with this sort of thing... But now that I think ab it, it's probably from the amount of smoke rising from the antaam encampment. The Crossroads don't have pollution! Of course it'd be more jewel-toned! I wonder what our sunsets would look like if there was less of that. Sigh. Anyways--

The Regret Prison. Probably my favourite sequence in the game. Yes I love colour, but let's not forget CONTRAST.

It's soooo easy it end up with a horrible clashing of shapes if you don't balance contrast. So you gotta Contrast the Contrast... by reducing the Contrast. Yes there's depth-of-field shenanigans (making lines blur the farther from the viewpoint they are) but there's also mist/dust/atmosphere. I love this shit.

Not to mention that subtle introduction of colour by incorporating greenery (still heavily desaturated, as to not be glaring/distracting) as you make your way through the map. Like. The starting area was desolate and devoid of life. Any plants you saw were dead. Bare-bone roots. But as your proceed you find Life scattered around. Hope.

I didn't get a proper shot/video clip of the end sequence for this quest, where you're walking across a barren expanse and can see the ritual sight erect itself piece by piece in the distance as you get closer. That sequence knocked me out it was so fucking good!!! To the person(s) who all made that happen, I'm sending them a big sloppy kiss on the cheek it was so elegantly executed. <333

Anyways I feel like I said a lot without saying anything at all but hopefully this was somewhat interesting to someone thank you for coming to my TEDtalk <3

[marie-wisp-of-curiosity]

DA:TV thoughts, part two

Part one here, about Rook!

Spoilers for everything Dragon Age.

ABOUT THE TONE: An homage to our favorite Thedasian writer!

I think DA:TV's writing references Varric's books.

I was reminded at points of DA2, where Varric tells the story of the Champion to Cassandra, the one he ends up writing in his most popular book.

DA: TV's more "campy" sides are inspired by serials and pulp fiction. Some, but not all, signs of this are:

The end of chapter narrations where "Varric" is hinting at what's to come, like a serial's writer would.

Neve's story that is written like a pulp fiction detective story!

The theme of books, reading, and writing being present throughout the game. I loved the book club codex entries so much! The end of chapter narrations also makes me think that Rook is telling this story after the facts. If this was just Rook, in the present, imagining Varric telling their story, they wouldn't know the future. I think that by showing us that our narrator knows what is coming, the game may be telling us that this is Rook telling the story after the facts. (*Before the reveal of Varric's death, this actually was part of what fooled me. I remember thinking that if Varric was telling us what's to come, he was going to survive. * :') ) This would also work with the idea that Rook is Varric's successor… Maybe Rook is Thedas' next writing sensation!

About the villains, the Crows and Dalish elves joining the elven gods About the villains In DA:TV, Rook doesn't spend a lot of time explaining the nuances of why the Big Bad Guys are bad because they don't need to. What Rook needs their public to know is that those assholes kill and enslave innocent people and that they will destroy the world for power. We do not get a big slavery in Tevinter plotline or mission, and I think that was a sensible choice in the game we got. It's still mentioned often. My favorite example is Lorelei, the Shadow Dragon's shopkeeper, who is one of the elves that was sold into slavery to Tevinter by Loghain in DAO. Slavery, blood magic, violence, and abuse are everywhere in the game, as part of its context.

I think that narrative choice was made because of the time they actually got to make the game, but also because that's not the point. This story is not about how fucked up the world is; it's about how to actually save it. It's not about the abuse or trauma; it's about healing. Rook has to find people who already see how messed up the BBGs are and round them up to make things better.

Still, there is some nuance about the smaller villains: it is said towards the end of the game that any Venatori or Antaam soldiers that want out are spared and helped. Even some BBG, like The Butcher, chose to do the right thing (in their way) at the end. I was also glad we got to see Qunari people outside the Antaam and regular people in Tevinter; to me, that felt more important to support an idea that transcends all Dragon Age media: people are people, no matter where they come from.

The Crows I do wish we had gotten a darker portrait of the Crows. They were changed in one of the books, and in DA:TV they are shown more like vigilantes than an actual guild of assassins. It does feel like a choice made for time, maybe? It would have been interesting to see Rook struggle with working with them. Or maybe the Talons we work with could have been shown as exceptions to the brutal ways of their predecessor? I feel the same about the Lords of Fortune; the "cultural" artifacts thing didn't make a lot of sense to me, and I would have found it more interesting if it was a bit more challenged. We do get more nuance with the Grey Wardens, so I do think this is a time thing. The idea of working with groups you disagree with on some stuff because they also are ready to do the work to save the word could have been very interesting to explore.

That said, if you believe my theory that the game is the story told by Rook, you can tell yourself this is just part of their editing of a more nuanced truth, hé hé!

About the Dalish Going with my theory that this is Rook's telling of the events, I also think that they don't talk about Fen'Harel's agents or elves siding on the side of the Evanuris on purpose. There was probably some, in actuality, but Rook knows very well that elves are already persecuted enough as it is and won't risk giving them even more bad press.

In conclusion! I have so much more to say about that game, but this is already so long! I'll probably write more as I continue to think about it. I hope you enjoyed reading this and wish you a great day! Au revoir!

[icedmetaltea]

If only 12 yr old me knew there'd be a World of Goo 2

and that a motherfucking pixelated neo-noir detective subplot would be included in it

[buglaur]

wanted to make a render to get back into the hang of things