#so at least my whole game isn't broken

[fleeblesim]

This doesn't seem good

[theminecraftbee]

Joel turns around. Martyn is standing there. His eyes are a burning red that gives Joel the heebie-jeebies. If anyone would know to be scared, it's Joel! He would! He'd recognize a mad dog if he saw one anywhere!

Anyway, all of that is to say that his high-pitched scream had been totally justified. "Oh my word Martyn what are you doing here?" he says, clutching his hand over his heart, several feet further back than he'd been thirty seconds ago.

Martyn snorts. "Is the sign not for me? Figured there was no one else it could be for."

"The what?"

"The sign."

Joel turns around. Outside his base, the other Mounders have hung a helpful banner: "SORRY EVERYONE YOU LOVE IS DEAD <3".

He'd told them it was kind of rude, hanging that up. Sort of made light of the whole thing, really. His wife and Mumbo and Jimmy had died, guys, don't be idiots about it. Bdubs had loudly told him that he was TRYING to be helpful, Joel, geez, why don't you appreciate his efforts? Pearl had shrugged and said they don't exactly make cards for this kind of thing. Joel's pretty sure they do, actually but...

Sorry everyone you love is dead. Hah.

"My wife is dead, Martyn," Joel says.

"Who, Lizzie or Jimmy?" Martyn says, weirdly dark. "Anyway, my husband's dead, so--"

"Your what?"

"Mumbo and I got married one time. Everyone forgets that for some reason."

Joel has to think about it a while. "Huh."

"Yeah. Anyway, you've still got the other Mounders, huh? Don't know what you're crying about. Thought the sign had to be for me. Thought I'd show up. Get cake. Kill some people. You know how it is."

"If there's a TNT minecart in my base, the first thing I do after I turn red is kill you," Joel says.

"That's not really how it works this time," Martyn says.

"Yeah, well, screw you," Joel says. "Also, they didn't make me any cake. I should ask them for that next. Hah. A cake."

"You know, maybe don't ask for that? Parties tend to go wrong in this game."

"And who's fault is that, huh?"

"Hey, don't look at me! Or, do. Since I'm going to kill everyone, on account of everyone I love being dead and all. Really convenient excuse for murder, that. I should use it more often, if it didn't involve the crippling grief," Martyn says.

"Oh, please. At least you tend to have people to love in the first place," Joel snaps.

"Oh, right, that is your curse, isn't it?" Martyn says. "Sorta broke it last time, but you do tend to get isolated and a bit crazy. Hey, I wonder if we're the ones who traded, actually what with the whole wolf thing."

Joel blinks. "What?"

"Oh, we're all cursed," Martyn says. "After all, They like it better that way. Hey, do you think Jimmy's curse transferred to Lizzie, got cancelled out by the fact Lizzie tends to die stupidly, or got broken? Personally, I'm thinking random fluke, when it comes to canary nonsense."

Joel stares at Martyn. His throat is dry. "What?"

Martyn stares back. "Hey, I'm the mad dog this time," Martyn says. "You probably shouldn't be the one growling."

"Well then, you should stop saying stupid shit," Joel says.

"Stupid? Please. It's obvious everyone is cursed. Nothing to be done about it but to play into the--"

"NO ONE IS BLUMIN' CURSED," Joel shouts, his vision suddenly red and blurry in a way it shouldn't be when he's still on yellow. "NO ONE IS BLUMIN' CURSED. THERE'S NO SUCH THING! YOU'RE JUST, JUST MAKIN' UP REASONS IT ISN'T ALL A TRAGEDY THAT EVERYONE I LOVE IS FUCKING DEAD, MAKING UP REASONS THAT IT--NO ONE IS CURSED! IT JUST HAPPENS! IT JUST HAPPENS! IT JUST FUCKING HAPPENS! AND WOULDN'T IT BE BLUMIN' NICE IF THERE WERE A HIGHER POWER BUT THERE ISN'T SO SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT CURSES!"

He's panting. Martyn is staring at him. He stares back, a snarl on his teeth, the echoes of wolves and of grief, grief, grief, grief playing at the back of his throat.

"Joel?" Martyn says, hesitant.

"My wife is fucking dead. My best friend is fucking dead. One of my new possible best friends is fucking dead. Sorry about your husband, I guess? Get out."

"Bold thing to say to the guy who can kill--"

"I SAID GET OUT!"

Martyn stares at Joel a moment longer, and Joel finds he's not scared of the madness in his eyes at all.

Martyn leaves.

Joel realizes he's crying. The tears turn into giant, ugly sobs. Sorry everyone you love is dead. Sorry everyone you love is dead. Sorry everyone you love is dead.

"I blumin' hate caring about people," he says to no one at all through choked breaths, and he kicks a rock at the banner for good measure. It pokes a little hole through it and bounces off the dick-shaped tower behind it.

"Someone really should have made both of us a blumin' cake, they should," he says next, and he sits down until Pearl runs over, having heard the shouting. His face is red and his vision is still swimming. She stares at him, gathers him in her arms, and cries with him, and for the life of him, he doesn't know if that's any better.

[junedenim]

when you're so pretty and i'm so shy

when banging into somebody only leads to more banging

warnings: fluffy smut, fingering, eating, and the regular shmegular

word count: 3k

The first time Alex talks to you, he breaks your nose. You had known each other nearly your whole life but you lived on opposite sides of town and ran in different groups. The closest you ever came was when he sat two seats over from you in English and you passed a note to him once. Then, in physical education, during a rousing game of basketball, he crashes into you. You aren't even playing the game. 

You're standing on the sidelines, talking with Gemma, and paying little attention. Lost in gossip and the drama of Gemma's rivalry with Daphne Pritchett when the blur of Alex runs right smack into you. You hear the crack. You reach up and blood is pouring out. Your heart is pounding and your face is red but mostly you're too embarrassed to look up and make eye contact with anyone.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. Are you okay? I'm sorry," Alex profoundly says. 

"Yeah," you mutter, even if it isn't true. You look up slowly at him.

"Shit," he whispers.

You panic and grab your nose. You wince in pain. "Is it bad? Am I missing a tooth or something?"

He shakes his head. "You're just...your nose...it's bleeding a little." A lot. There's a puddle on the floor and you can taste it, all metallic in your mouth.

"You broke her fucking nose!" Gemma shouts.

You cringe and curve your shoulders over. "Seriously?"

"I'm sorry." He's all meek and he has his hand on your shoulder trying to soothe. You or him, you aren't sure? "I'll take you to the nurse. Right? You good to stand?"

You nod and gradually stand up with his help. Your teacher hands you a pile of tissues that you hold close to your face groaning in pain. Alex's hand is on your back trying to guide you the best he can.

"I'm sorry. I just...I wasn't looking. I was an idiot and, and—I don't know."

"Not perceiving?"

"Yeah, that." It's brought a smile to his face and that makes you feel better. You don't want him to hurt too. He's always been a sweet guy.

*

"It's broken."

"Fuck," Alex mutters. 

*

In the following days, with a piece of tape secured on the bridge of your nose and a bruise giving you an undereye coating, you catch Alex's eyes on you throughout the day. They're always filled with concern, desperate for forgiveness even though he won't accept it.

"You're fine," you reassure him in the hallway on the way to the cafeteria. "It was an accident. Besides, it's my new excuse to get a nose job."

"At least let me buy you lunch." You nod and walk together for the first time since your bloody walk to the nurse. "Is it healing alright?"

You shrug. "I think so. I can't really tell. Bruises mean healing."

His hands are stuffed in his trouser's pockets. He's slumped over and somber-eyed. "Sorry about all of that."

You laugh at his constant apologies. "It's fine. I swear. I like bruises. That sounds like I'm a freak."

"Kind of."

You gasp and turn to look at him with a cheeky grin and dirty Reeboks, the only personality to his school uniform. "Hey! You're the inflictor. You're in my debt. You're lucky I'm not suing you. I meant it in an I-Got-Into-A-Fight kind of way."

Alex chuckled. "Are you the type to get into a fistfight?"

"I think I'm more likely than you. You couldn't hurt a fly."

"I hurt you."

You toot. "It's fine. You upped my street cred. Anyone who knows what happened feels sympathy for me and for those who don't I can say things like 'Oh, you should see the other guy.'"

"Okay, then should we continue this routine and I break your leg next time?"

"No, I think I'm good on broken bones but maybe you'll allow me a punch at you."

He toys with you, "Threatening violence? I should tell on you."

You tell him through giggles, "I'd kick your ass if you do."

After he pays for your lunch, he walks you to your lunch table like a poor stray dog. You should start calling him Sandy in the vein of Annie's shaggy orphaned dog. "Thanks, Al."

"My pleasure." He gives a crooked smile. "Oh, and don't get a nose job."

Unsure of what he's said, you question, "Huh?"

"Back there you said..." he points his thumb behind him then shrugs. "Anyway, I like your nose."

You furrow your brows. "Thanks?"

He's blushing and it makes your cheeks flush and you feel like he's attacking you with his cuteness. Like he's a cute drug you're overdosing on. You want to crush him up in between your teeth and digest him completely. (Maybe you've taken too many painkillers). 

"You're pretty. That's all."

You smile back at him, overwhelmed by his flirtatious shyness. "Well, thanks." He turns to walk away but you stop him with "Do you want to sit with us?"

"I don't want to intrude and I've got me friends." He points over to a table in the back corner filled with rowdy boys tossing food at one another.

You shake your head. "You owe me."

"So, I'm gonna be in your debt forever."

You think, tapping your finger on your chin. "Hmm, well, at least for the rest of the year."

He chuckles and sits down beside you. You do have lunch together for the rest of the year but by Day 3 your table and his table mesh and suddenly you're intertwined.

*

The swelling is gone in a week, the bruises are gone after two weeks, the fracture healed in four weeks, and Alex and you date after 5 weeks. You think he first kissed you a week after your doctor told you it was healed for fear that his nose would hit yours and somehow dislodge its position again.

He has a guitar in the corner of his room that you tease him into strumming for you. He looks embarrassed the whole time and it makes it even more charming. He tells you his secret ambitions and you encourage the way his mind moves. It's the perfect Hollywood teen romance.

One evening, you fall onto his bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and your mouth opens under his. Your skin sears as you spread your legs wider to make room for his body. You feel mindless. You move against each other a little while making out. Uncertain shifts and searching grinds, friction, fervency. You've never done this before, what you're about to do, unlike him. You like him being more experienced. It makes you feel as if he's your guidepost.

Your kisses are all tongue, broken by moans and desperate gasps. Your nails dig into his back and you try to stifle the sounds forced from your mouth. He turns his focus onto your neck, licking and sucking, bruising you like a peach. "Let it out."

It's erotic and troubling how much you throb. “I—I want—”

“You want what?”

You roll your hips up against him for real, starting to shake when you feel how hard he is beneath his jeans, and his grip tightens on you like that’s too much for him. You do it again, moaning some more but as loud as you want this time, and find a rhythm. “Fuck,” he rasps, “I’m—fuck. Don’t do that, baby.”

He stops you by the hips. You grunt, “Why not?”

"'Cause if you do I’m gonna come in my fucking jeans."

You force yourself to meet his eyes and hold his gaze as you push your skirt down, before grabbing his hands so they’re pulling your panties and tights down together. He finishes the job when they get to your thighs, and you're suddenly aware that you're wearing nothing down there.

His attention drifts low. His expression takes on weight, and he whispers, “God,” almost like a 'Thank you.' It dissipates any insecurity. He spreads your legs a little wider and then trails his hand down from your knee to your center, stopping just an inch and then moving it back down again. He does it a few more times, and it’s torture. “You sure?”

You nod. “Yes,” you manage, throaty and raw. “Please, do it.”

He grins at that and keeps teasing you, but then gets close again, and this time he doesn’t go back down. Instead, he strokes you, just a brush of a thing, not even inside of you and you're still gasping. Fuck, fuck. “Alex," you manage as some strangulated thing.

“I know,” he whispers, keeps stroking, all infuriatingly slow. "You’re so good.”

When he slips a finger in it’s done carefully, but it has you gasping. You're hit with it: you're really doing this right now. You're in his bed and he’s fingering you. The thought alone is enough to make you lose it.

“Let me know if it hurts,” he says.

You shake your head. “It doesn’t. I—more, I want more—”

A second finger and your back arches. It feels like you're on fire when he finds your clit. The first brush has you whimpering, somehow overstimulated with just that ghost of a touch. He makes it worse by pumping his fingers in and out at just the right angle. He keeps stopping too, building pressure, and the third time you grab his hand to make him keep going. His fingers stroke a spot that has you crying out, and so he keeps going right there, and you hold his wrist, gasping and wanting what you can feel building so bad that you nearly scream.

He won’t give it to you, instead leaning down to kiss you again, smiling through it like maybe he’s enjoying the tease. You bite his lower lip in revenge and he laughs. “Feel good?” he asks.

You can only nod. He smooths your hair back and keeps going, keeps doing both; affectionate strokes and intimate ones with intent, the angle precise and the movements deliberate. When you come, his pace quickens a little and that feels so perfect, and your head falls back, and for a second everything just kind of whites out. Your legs shake and his thumb ghosts your temple. You blink and manage to utter, “Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoes, head tilted, fond. Alex kisses your cheek once, twice, three times. “You liked it?”

There’s a tiny bit of anxiety in his voice, which is ridiculous. “I loved it,” you correct.

His responding grin is like a spark to kindling. He says, “Me too.” When he sucks his fingers clean you get a burning fire inside you that you've never felt before. Your lips part. 

Your breathing is shaky as you inhale. “Can we…?”

His forehead falls against yours. “I don’t have, uh—”

“Rubbers?” You ask, coming back to yourself a little now. “That’s okay, I do.”

Alex leans back. “Do you, now?”

“Shut up,” you say, face on fire as you sit up. You find your backpack on the floor and part of this feels ridiculous that you're doing this after school before his parents come home but it feels like the most romantic thing you'll ever get the chance to experience. That first love feeling. “Here.”

Alex takes them with a, “Huh,” and an infuriating grin. It falls a little as he looks back up at you, and his eyes are so brown and comforting. “You really want to? You’re sure?”

You nod. “I wanna.”

The fear is just an underscore to the want, which overpowers everything else. You're safe with him and he’s beautiful and you think if you don't sleep with him right now, tonight, you'll explode or something.

Alex kisses your cheek and then rips open the wrapper with his teeth. You sit on the bed with your knees drawn up to your chest. “We don’t have to do this, y’know.”

“No, I know,” you say, your school cardigan falling off your shoulder. You tuck your hair behind your ears, a nervous habit. “I know that I just want it to be...”

“Perfect?”

“Not perfect." You shake your head, “Good? I don’t wanna look back on this and think about how I was cold the whole time, or how I was insecure, or—”

“Don’t be insecure.”

You give him a dry look. “Yeah, okay, I fixed that problem.”

Alex gets you on your back and nuzzles your nose with his. “I’m just saying I think you’re beautiful.”

Your face scrunches up. “Liar.”

His jaw drops with exaggerated affront. “Excuse me?”

“You’re just trying to butter me up.”

He snorts and glances down. “Pretty sure I already did that.”

“Oh my God, you gonna hang that over my head forever,” you say, all laughing as you wriggle underneath him, and you wrestle like kids for a minute, and then you're just kissing. The rest of the world falls away. It’s just you and him in this bed, and the way you fit underneath him, and the sounds you make when he presses into you. 

He pulls your top off and you can barely breathe before you come back together. He wants to see all of you so fucking badly, wants to touch every square inch of your body, wants to find every freckle and map out the distance between them like a cartographer with kisses.

You yank his shirt over his head and then sort of still, running your hands down the length of his abdomen memorizing it like your flashcards. Then you kiss him with complete need. Your arms wind around his neck and he wraps his around your body, hands searching for the clasp of your bra. He undoes it and leans back to pull it off slowly, eyes on you until it’s gone, and then his gaze falls to your chest.

“Fuck,” he whispers, ragged, you're so— there isn’t even a word. Divine is the only thing that comes close to his mind. He starts kissing and doesn’t intend to stop, insatiably craving your taste. He sucks your skin to bruise, on your collarbone and sternum, right above your heart. He can hear it pounding, an erratic busting beat. He brushes his lips over your left nipple, kissing it softly and feeling it perk, hardening in his mouth as he plays his tongue over it. You start to tug on his hair and he's obsessed with the feeling.

“Alex,” you beg, “please, please—”

He’s listening, but he doesn’t respond. Just moves lower and lower still, running his open mouth down your stomach and only stopping when he’s settled between your legs. Alex eats you out slowly, stroking your thighs and squeezing your hips while you moan and whimper and gasp various words of the ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ variety. He decides that he fucking loves this, it’s his favorite thing on the planet maybe, and he can’t help grinning while he does it. 

When he starts to move back up you try to push him down. “No, no, I’m not done—”

Alex laughs. “I know that, knobhead. Just wait." He knows he’s infuriating you but that’s on purpose too. He fucking loves it when you get all wound up like this. He strips and puts the condom on as quickly as he can manage, and you watch all fascinated, cheeks flushed when you catch sight of his dick. You're sort of sitting up now, so he tugs you back down with a murmured, “Come here.”

He slides in and being inside of you feels ritualistic. You're so warm, and you wrap your body around him as you start to move together. You hide your face in the crook of his neck and he cradles you, wants you to feel so safe, and relishes in every sound you make. Alex pulls your leg over his hip for a deeper angle and your head falls back. “Oh, fuck, yes,” you whine.

He stays right there and fucks you so good and so raw he feels sweat start to bead on his back because he’s been waiting for this for so long and if it doesn’t last for at least a few minutes he might as well die. You're so goddamn pretty under him too, with gentle curves and soft skin as you moan. He does too, can’t help it, doesn’t wanna, just wants to feel this and never forget it.

Your back arches when you come. You grasp at the headboard and cry out and so he lets himself too. You pile on top of one another like that heap in which you first spoke. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters.

You let out a weak noise. Alex turns to you, your faces less than an inch apart. You're all flushed and dazed and he loves it. He bumps his nose against you. “You alright there?”

“Shhh,” you say, with an ineffectual whack to his arm. “I’m...”

He grins. “Me too.”

You nod. You turn onto your side and so he pulls you into him, gathering you up to hold. He pulls the blanket over your bodies as goosebumps rise on your arms. You burrow against him gladly. “Mmm. Warm.”

Alex hums. “Don’t fall asleep yet,” he urges, watching your eyelids flutter shut.

You snort. “So I take it you’re a total girl after sex, huh?”

Alex shrugs. “I was just trying to save you the bladder infection, but I guess I’ll just fuck off.”

That has you scurrying out of his arms with an, “Oh, shit,” and his eyes follow your body shamelessly as you leave him.

*

Later, when you're all dressed and pretending to do homework, you shamelessly ask him, "When can we do that again?"

He looks up all shaggy. He's dressed in his home clothes with a T-shirt and jeans. You're stuck in your school's uniform skirt but with his old sweatshirt overtop, all cutesy in a way that has him biting on the eraser of his pencil. "Oh, no, I've created a sex addict."

You toss your pencil at him, making him chuckle as he catches it. "You seemed to enjoy it just as much as me."

He has a cheeky smirk and looks deeply at you. Then, suddenly, he turns serious, clasping his hands with one another and sitting up straight. "I could pencil you in for Saturday," he says as he flips through his desk calendar.

"Shut up or I'm withholding the goods."

"Exhortation now?"

"I can be one and done. I fear you'd crumble without seeing me naked again. I'm trying to spare pain."

You're so cute it makes everything in him a desperate, clingy spirit and he's not sure how he's going to be able to let you go back home after today. You're so far away, curled up on his bed while he's over at his desk. What is he doing over at his desk?

So, he stands up, walks over, and kisses you.

*

a/n: it's a quick, sweet fic. plenty of other things cooking...thanks!

[starshinegazer]

Shoutout Sunday

I just wanted to collect some of the most memorable Astarion fanfics I've read so far and to give them and their authors a big ol' shoutout. These are some of the fics I strongly suggest others to check out, if you haven't yet.

Also, please feel free to comment and recommend your favorites as well! And, if you know of some of these authors on tumblr, lemme know, so I can add them too :) I'm not too good with words, so I'll be slapping some of the authors own words as descriptions (for now). Oh, and do be mindful of tags etc etc... Here goes, in no particular order:

Pieces Still Stuck In Your Teeth by howlsmovinglibrary (@wetcatspellcaster) "The Vampire Ascendent has crossed a line. Eleven years after making the biggest mistake of her life and losing the man she loved, tiefling wizard (now Archmage) Rosalie decides it’s time to put this Astarion in the ground for good. Hopefully, both her head and her heart are strong enough to see this awful task through to its end."

An Honest Lie by howlsmovinglibrary (@wetcatspellcaster) "Astarion and Rosalie think they understand each other perfectly, but they have each fallen prey to the other’s mask. As they both go forward with their adventure, will either of them dare to be honest?"

A Crooked Touch by eyes_of_the_lamb "If you want to read a story where Astarion is sweet from the start and Tav is here to fix him, this isn't the one. If you want to read about two terribly broken men spending a good long while making each other worse before they make each other better, this might be for you. If you thought the in-game romance was a little too easy and it should have been ten times more painful and difficult to convince Astarion he's worthy of love, this is definitely for you."

Perfect Slaughter by Imagineitdear (@imagineitdearies ) "Tyrus, a low-born drow with aspirations for necromantic wizardry, finds none of the hospitality he expected from his new noble patron, Cazador Szarr. Quickly he loses his life and future, his hopes and dreams—only to find something new to fight for in the unlikely arms of Cazador’s least favorite spawn."

A Novel Experience by meanboss (@meanbossart ) "Initially just an epilogue for my own game campaign with my big meaty dark urge drow, turned whole story which I accidentally deleted and am now reuploading, my bad LOL

Hope you enjoy!"

Carving Through The Dark by skitter "The realm is safe and the story is over.

Wren and Astarion descend into the Underdark in search of a new purpose, and learn a few things along the way. Namely, that healing isn't linear and sometimes love takes the long way round."

Blood In The Weave by gingealish "There is no need to breathe, but I miss it all the same. The suffocating silence, the desperate darkness have encapsulated me for I don’t even know how long; It could have been tendays or years. I’ve long since accepted my punishment, stopped trying in vain to crack the seal of my tomb against the onslaught of panic and hunger. Now I lay here, thinking of the friends I’ve lost, the lover who turned on me, and how to finally get even.

Astarion is the new Big Bad Evil Guy. Spawn Tav is rescued by a familiar face. "

When He’s all but Forgotten How to Love Again by bg_brainrot "You saved Baldur’s Gate almost 300 years ago. You died 150 years ago. On a new life now, you find that memories from your past lead you to a specific silver-haired man. Who was he, and why won't he leave you be? tldr; An Elf-Tav reincarnation story where Tav dreams about Astarion in their nightly reveries and eventually seeks him out once they reach maturity. Things definitely totally go well."

More Than Any Words by mataglap "They have saved the city and possibly the world. All is great and everyone is happy... except Astarion has been banished back into the shadows, and Tav is stuck in an uneven battle with his own oath. He's losing the fight. He knew he would from the moment he fell for Astarion. But he can't lose yet, not before they find a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again."

Inexhaustible Oil by homeward_bound "This is the absolute opposite of a redemption fic. A post-canon, fall-from-grace, "I can make you infinitely worse" kind of story, in which there is no simple happy ending. But there's mystery on the way. And dragons. True love, even. So if you're fine with that, come aboard. It's going to be a wild ride."

[leathfaic]

Every year around Easter Ghost hides somewhere on the training grounds. If you find him you get half of his leave.

Soldiers all around go fucking feral, Ghost never takes any leave and there's rumours that start around Christmas of how long you'd be able to go home. Weeks probably aren't enough maybe a few months? Some are sure it's at least a full year.

Except of course no one ever finds him.

He's the Ghost and if he doesn't want to be found he isn't. He's just taking the piss, enjoying how the event has people riled up for weeks. He's not one for practical jokes, but this has him cackling.

Enter Soap, the FNG, the man who brings Ghost to his knees. They do their whole song and dance, and come Easter Ghost is hugging his boyfriend before preparing to hide.

Soap promising with a cocky smile that he'll find Ghost and they are going to use that leave for a nice holiday. Which Ghost smiles at, his sweet naive Soap, as if he's gonna hand him a win just because he loves him.

Imagine Ghost's shock when a few hours later he spots Johnny from his hiding spot. He's still high in a tree but the other man is walking directly in his direction and after a few moments he looks up.

Once Ghost is down the tree, still incredulous, but also very much in love, he asks Soap how he did it.

"Let my heart guide me, L.t." is the answer he gets which he calls out for the bloody nonsense it is.

Takes him all the way back to base to make him talk. And even then Johnny just hugs him, reaching around putting a hand in his back pocket (not unusual) and digging around (definitely unusual). Producing a small piece of technology.

"You fucking tracked me?!" his jaw nearly drops at the realisation.

"Aye, slipped it in this mornin' when we hugged."

"You little shit." is all that his brain will allow, mostly hung up on the cocky smile on Soap's face. The same as this morning.

He should be fuming. His proud record broken, he actually has to make good on the promise that so far has been all but hypothetical. Price will be in hysterics about the amount of paperwork that comes with it.

But he can't find it in him to care. He's mesmerized at Soap outplaying him. Drunk on the weird sense of pride that Johnny is so observant and skilled. Most of all he's blown away by the fact that he never even considered the possibility. It would be easy to blame hubris here, but that's not the reason no-one ever pulled a similar stunt.

No, Soap was able to do this because Ghost let him get close. Because he trusts him.

The Ghost that met Soap a few months ago would've panicked at this point. Soap had not only seen his weak spot, he clearly was also cunning enough to use it to his own advantage.

The Ghost that has been loved by Johnny for months now doesn't. Because he trusts him. And because he's proud. And because the rational part of his brain realises that any enemy agent would never have exposed their advantage for a game.

"If you ever do anything like this again-" he doesn't need to know where he wants to end that sentence, but Soap's interjection saves him the trouble "No worries, I like meself alive too."

He'll still have to be careful next year. After all he found a worthy opponent and he can't just make it too easy on him. Probably can not let Soap touch him before the game. Maybe not even the night before. Just to be safe. A fortnight should do it. But that also means a fortnight of not touching Soap...

But he can consider that later. For now he and Soap have a holiday to plan.

[mydarlingclaudia]

this is life

note : divider is from @/the-aesthetics-shop. ermm never written Chris before idk how good this is and ik it's ooc and this is way short. this wasn't in my wip game thing because I started this like 4 hours ago but I love him very much so uh here I feel scared. is it obvious I don't know how to do a good description.

wc : 1.2k

tags : @lottiies

desc : like a lover should. fluff, teeny tiny bit of angst (not really tho), established relationship, any Chris but at the end it's post re8!Chris, fem!reader, not proofread.

Chris knows the sounds of explosions and gunfire more than he knows anything else. He knows the feeling of blood-soaked clothes and heavy bulletproof vests weighing down on his chest as if they’re meant to be worn everyday. He’ll never forget the weight of a gun in his hand, won’t forget how to curl his fingers around a knife and hold it outwards, waiting for whatever is going to lunge at him from the darkness.

But Chris knows the sound of your voice, too. Knows the feeling of your skin underneath his fingertips, how your weight feels lying on top of him late at night. He loves how your hand squeezes his, how your arms wrap around his neck to hold him closer.

His apartment became yours once you stepped into his life. Your makeup is scattered across the counter in his bathroom, your clothes are in his closet, your soaps are in his shower, the smell of his cigarettes quickly mixed with the smell of your perfume. Chris loves it, really. It didn’t happen overnight, Chris wasn’t around all that much, but you always waited and showed up whenever you wanted to, he gave you a spare key for a reason.

He thinks you care about him more than you should, that you shouldn't worry about him so much and that you don't need to give him a massage every time he comes home along with an actual meal instead of whatever food was being rationed out to him on his latest mission. But you do, every single time. Chris wishes you would sleep and not stay up texting him when he tells you he's on his way home, he won't admit that seeing your endless row of texts filling his screen with news of what he's missed over the past few days never fails to make him smile.

You've always known that what Chris does is dangerous, you don't know that he fights monsters straight out of sci-fi movies, but what matters to you is that he comes home in one piece. Truth is, you love him, and he lets you. Chris isn't always the easiest to love and care for, you know there are things he doesn't tell you, but the way he holds you in the morning while he's still asleep is something else entirely.

The time that you did learn about everything he did was after the Edonia and China mess.

You thought he left you, what else were you supposed to think when he went completely radio silent for almost a year? No one seemed to know where he was, you hadn't gotten any news that he was dead, so he had to still be alive, right? You still took care of his apartment, making sure no one broke in, you were hardly back at your own place the whole time he was away, you were just hoping that a few things would be moved around the apartment whenever you came to check on it, just a hint that he was back home and hadn't told you yet.

But he went to your home the night he came back, was there to catch you when you broke down and cried about all the horrible things you thought had happened to him. At least he showered before he came to you. He sounded like a broken record, apologizing over and over again while you just clutched onto his shirt with your head buried in his shoulder.

It took you maybe an hour to calm down, he had the decency to wait for you to stop hiccuping through your tears before he explained himself. You've got every right to be mad at him, and he knows you are, but he's sure you'll nag him some other time when you're not holding onto him like a lifeline.

You probably don't even believe what he's telling you about bioweapons, you don't even know what the fuck that word really means, but it's his job to get rid of them, play exterminator. You just sat there on your bed with a confused expression the whole time, leaning on his shoulder while you sniffled softly. They're monsters, that's how he described them, like something you see in nightmares.

"So... what, like... Godzilla, or something? That's what they are?" You asked him, eyebrows still knitted together. Chris just looked at you, not really sure how to tell you that the undead weren't even in the same category as some of the things he's fought over the years.

"Yeah, kinda." He didn't need to explain further, you were too tired to comprehend the horrors mankind could make. So he let you sleep, kept you in his arms the whole night. He'd wait until tomorrow to tell you he had to keep doing this until the day he died, but he promised to not keep you waiting the next time he leaves.

—

Chris decides that years later, when you're in the kitchen, sitting across from him at the table burping a baby over your shoulder, not his, not yours, that he can't lose you. He almost lost Jill, did lose Piers and Ethan, along with countless other teammates along the line. But now he's got Ethan's baby in his house, he told you more things about his job now, he told you what happened to Ethan and that Rose would be in his care for a little bit, you had only smiled at him.

He should've married you by now. God, what kind of man was he? Dating the woman of his dreams for over a decade and never even trying to propose? He doesn't know why you let him get away with that. You've long since moved in with him, all your things were practically in his apartment by the time he asked if you just wanted to stay and not leave, took absolutely nothing to convince you.

And looking at you with Rose in your arms finally makes him realize as he's pushing fifty that he should have settled with you sooner. Maybe you just never asked because of his job, maybe you were fine with how things were.

"Did you... ever want kids?" He mumbled, avoiding your gaze and instead staring into his coffee cup. You have to think for a second, still rocking the baby in your arms back and forth.

"One would've been nice." You answer him. Shit, now he feels like he's ruined everything.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I'm happy we waited." Chris looked up at you, not expecting to be greeted with the smile on your face. You stand up to put Rose into her highchair so you can go get your toast from the toaster, Chris follows you after a few seconds.

"Don't know how you put up with me," His hands find their way to your waist, pressing his chest to your back and resting his head against yours. His hands are still rough from years in battle, he doesn't think he'll ever really be able to relax, but you still love to dote on him whenever you can, it makes him feel like he's meant to be here with you.

"Well, you're quite handsome." Chris smiles and presses a kiss to the side of your head, there have been mornings like this hundreds of times, he can only hope for more in the future.

"You're too good to me."

"Lucky you,"

"I know." He's got the day off, he should go buy you a ring, make things more permanent than they already are.

[strixcattus]

I really enjoy looking at this still from Slay the Princess:

In the midst of all the weird imagery from the first part of the Stranger route, you see for a moment—and it is cut off at the end, so I had to be quick with my screenshot—every route laid out in front of you, paired up as the game does elsewhere, and described, interestingly enough, from what I can only believe is the Voices' perspectives, or perhaps the relationship between the Princess and the Voice of a given route.

Consumption: The Beast (Hunted), the ribcages in the bottom right. Being eaten, alive or half so, is one way or another the outcome you face in the Beast. This one seems to be the least connected to its route's Voice, though I can still see it in a relational sort of way. Betrayal: The Witch (Opportunist), the nail-studded... I can't tell what it is, but it's at the top left. Betrayal on your part is the cause of the Witch's route, and it too is inevitable in some form once you're on that route—the Opportunist is very vocal about it.

Skepticism: The Prisoner (Skeptic), the chains at the bottom. Pretty clear analogue given the name of the Voice, but not to neglect—you reach the Prisoner by taking the blade (distrust of the Princess) but ultimately using it to free the Princess (you take the time to think critically about what you're being asked to do, and decide the Narrator is less trustworthy). Blind devotion: The Damsel (Smitten), the... I can only imagine locks of hair at the top. You reach the Damsel by immediately and wholly assuming she has no ill intentions, an attitude made manifest in the Smitten.

Rivalry: The Adversary (Stubborn), the spikes to the left. The Adversary route is, so long as you embrace it, about your probably-a-metaphor-for-sex-I-mean-the-Eye of the Needle-isn't-even-trying-to-veil-it eternal fight with the Adversary, with the Stubborn in strong support. Submission: The Tower (Broken), the stone columns to the right. One of the most clear-cut "this is about the Voice" examples—the Broken has completely submitted to the Tower's will, even though the player still has a few chances to resist her.

Terror: The Nightmare (Paranoid), the eyes in the upper right. Of course, the Nightmare is all about fear, and the Paranoid is the embodiment of your fear of the Princess—the fear that made you lock her in the basement and the fear that stopped your heart when she broke free. Longing: The Spectre (Cold), the wisps in the bottom left. This one is interesting, and almost made me second-guess my "Voices" reading, as the Spectre herself is clearly a creature of longing—but then what about "Submission?" The Tower is not "submitting" to anything. That's her whole deal. Perhaps this one is connected to your desire for something other than what the Narrator calls the "Good Ending..." or perhaps it has something to do with the Cold's interest in feeling something, which he expresses in a few routes (the Greys being the most obvious).

Pain: The Razor (Cheated,) the spikes at the top. She skewers you, and you die. Over and over again she skewers you, and you die, and it is painful over and over again. I'm not sure I have much to add to this one. Unfamiliarity: The Stranger (Contrarian), the abstract DNA-like strand at the bottom. You reach the Stranger by refusing to interact with the Princess, leaving her an unfamiliar blank slate whose actions you cannot predict and thus fracture into every possible image of her.

And at the heart of it all, an emotion that can only be described as—what? The Narrator doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence before you wake up in the Prisoner's basement, but I'd think the answer is obvious once you've finished the game.

After all, this is a love story.

[cerastes]

can i get other examples of gamepress being wrong about arknights? i've been using them as my main source since i started and now i'm worried i'm missing out on some operators i haven't bothered to upgrade 🙃

We could be here literally all day because it's not like they have one or two outliers, Gamepress is just mainly edited by people that live in an echo chamber and that have authority in their own circle so it's just off-the-hip, all too often wrong biased takes based on their own really reductive metrics. Chiefly, Gamepress ranks characters 1) as if they were the sole unit in the battlefield almost exclusively, and 2) using the single most broken units currently live as the barrier of entry. The unit you are looking up can't clear a chunk of map in one tap? Worthless and sub-optimal, according to Gamepress. Their only metric is Mlynar, Ch'ung the Hung, Surtr, that kind of Press To Win philosophy, and if a unit can't do that, Then It's Bad And Not Worth It.

Now, you may be thinking, "goodness me, Dreamer, you are being awfully harsh to call them complete dogshit at every angle of the game in this manner!", well, see, it's not just their Operator "reviews", they have articles sometimes. And they are god awful dogshit as well, such as "What Happened To Blaze?"

You can't see the comments anymore, but the author was getting reamed. I have one screenie at least:

Comments were mainly of this nature. Because, well, the article is straight up awful, especially since it reduces Blaze to "laneholder" and compares her to "competition" like Thorns, Mudrock, and Mountain, who, yes, they all can hold a lane, but Blaze has her own space of "infinite duration, high statline, healable 3-block with 2 tile range" that has historically allowed for Funny Tricks like clearing enemies through "walls" on tiles that could shred Thorns even with a healer, or, you know, in conjunction with any of Mudrock or Mountain, given you have 12 whole slots for you team. Again, Gamepress editors rate characters as if they were your main in a fighting game and not one of 12+1 characters you can throw in at any time. They also tend to shit on non-specialist characters (generalists; more versatile units that can do a bunch of things without really breaking the game in any regard), which is very interesting because those usually will make up a strong backbone of any competent Integrated Strategies team, so the specialists in role can do their thing while the other needs of the map are being met.

"Ebenholz is nothing special." "Goldenglow is nothing special." These are takes they genuinely held until, you know, it turned out that Eben and GG are the most relevant Casters, up there with Eyja. To be fair, it wasn't just them being wrong on Eben, but how do you look at the global blasting of GG with her numbers and don't immediately realize that's an ICBM button? All it takes is having the game installed.

The biased nature of Gamepress is also blatant:

Imagine rating April as "Really Good" while relegating Dorothy as only "Really Fun". Even before her Module3, Dorothy was absolutely devastating, bringing huge damage multipliers, crowd control, one of the single best class autoattacks in the whole game at 6* stat weight, and a Talent that gives her even more Attack for basically using her as intended. I'm not saying April isn't good, mind you, I'm just trying to highlight how biased the hands behind Gamepress are: They can't figure out Trapmasters? Then surely they are merely "really fun". Can't drop and forget them like April or Surtr, after all.

About the only thing Gamepress is good for is objective, in-game info: Dates, mat requirements, what skills do, that kind of stuff. It's got a good interface and is a good place to just quickly look up what you need to know that can otherwise be found in the game. The moment their personal opinions come into play, though? The most absolute dogshit takes. Unless you are a "unga bunga drop Surtr and Mlynar and win instan-- WAIT WHY IS INTEGRATED STRATEGIES AND RISK 23+ KICKING MY DAY 1 PLAYER ASS...!?" kinda player, then you don't really want to follow Gamepress advice.

Because they simply do not give good advice as a whole.

[kingscourthouse]

hold up i NEED to know more about your Xisuma Views thing.... I just saw the art with Joel and i'm obsessed

Well it's just how it sounds, it's Xisuma's view of the world. Unlike other players, he can't see the layers they have to hide.

Lemme put it like this. You're making a minecraft skin and have your second layer, yeah? That's their base layer. And then there's a second layer that's more heavily concealing.

Xisuma isn't from minecraft and his code is glitched, so not only do layers not work for him, but he can't see the layers either. Some people use only base layers to hide "actual forms" if they have one, and others use a second layer to hide scars or parts of their body that don't need a heavy cover.

So Xisuma sees people in a bit of a weird way. He thinks how he sees people is how everyone sees eachother. He sees their true character.

Skizz is a really nice guy. He's always looking out for people, tries to be there for someone, some people say he acts like an angel.

And so Xisuma never questions it. He sees Skizz as an angel, other people supposedly see him as an angel. Skizz is just an angel, why would anyone see anything else? It's just Skizz.

Though the Skizz people actually see is his layers with the torn suit and brown hair. The layers also affect his interactions with people too. If he's around Skizz, he tends to squint alot or avoid looking in his direction if he's not in his armour. Skizz is blinding to Xisuma, so he has trouble looking at him. Though Skizz does have features, but he's too bright to see any of them.

Xisuma also has a type of layer as well, but it's not on him. He's too broken in the games code (that's a whole 'nother can of worms) for him to use layers. So what does he do? He adds a layer to everyone else.

Xisuma doesn't leave hermitcraft too often, so everyone outside it will see what he really looks like. In the server though? Everyone has a layer that covers Xisuma from their eyes. He's lucky his admin panel isn't from minecraft or else he'd be screwed.

What's fun with Xisuma seeing people's real forms is that (in my au at least) he's kind of a grey character. If there's ever a fight or spat between hermits, he can have trouble taking sides. Not all Hermits are angelic or aliens like Skizz and Joel. There's hermits who are monsters and beings who do or did bad things in the past. Not all Hermits talk about those things.

He can get better insights to people's decisions or just things about them. Joel has a habit to make things around bright areas or access to a lot of light. Maybe because he's made of it. Skizz only ever keeps one pair of elytra. Maybe because he's missing his second pair of wings that can't glow anymore.

He can see people for who they were. Keralis is an eyesore (literally) and can hurt to look at. Grian has too many evenly split scars across his body and Xisuma knows what's behind them. Doc isn't a creeper.

There's a lot to Xisuma's View thing and I do wanna eventually start drawing how everyone looks to him, but I'm indecisive and don't know where to start. So idk maybe I'll open ask box for hermit requests. Can be interactions between Xisuma and specific hermits (both ones seen and not) or it can just be their design.

Idk but feel free to ask about them, I have designs for every hermit, empires member and even everyone in the life series. So he's got plenty of people to show you.

[dia-souls]

DIABOLIK LOVERS DAYLIGHT Analyzes [ Vol. 6 Sakamaki Laito ]

Original title: いつものゲーム

Source: Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 6 Sakamaki Laito

Seiyuu: Hirakawa Daisuke

Analyze by: Admin Afra

Admin's note: Laito is the boy who, in my personal opinion, has endured the worst trauma among all his brothers, and the reason for his violent and deviant behavior now may be justified with the bitter memories of his past. But with Laito I can learn many lessons and I hope he will stick to these lessons. He should try to forget the relationship and bitterness of the past and believe in a brighter future. Maybe we can call him the poor broken man, but this man deserves a second chance and I'm sure he deserves Yui's pure love. What he could not receive from his mother.

Who are you, Laito? Are you sure that the only way to return to reality of yourself is to become carefree and not care about the things that really matter to you? Are you sure that this is the real you? Are you sure that your true self is not that kind and innocent child who forgot his entire childhood because of a tragic event and decided to create a new identity for himself. Your true self has been dead for years. Your true self died in your childhood.

This is the only answer I can give to Laito when he decides to kill Yui to end all his pain. But how did the story get here?

Playing hunter seems like a lot of fun for Laito, especially since Laito likes to see his prey try and his prey's stubbornness always amuses him.

This is why if a girl is submissive to Laito, Laito will never be attracted to that girl and finds her boring. In fact, it was Yui's special quality that made him the first person to see even a little bit of Laito's kind and pure love. Of course, this pure love of Laito can be interpreted in different ways, which has a different analysis of this CD.

As usual and like the previous CDs, Yui is suffering from a disease that weakened her heart. But Laito isn't like Reiji or Subaru, who notices Yui's poor health right away.

So when Yui can't continue the game the way Laito wants, Laito gets frustrated. In any case, Yui is someone who never gives up easily, and this is what made Laito attracted to Yui, that's why when he saw Yui not trying to escape from Laito in this game, at first he thought that Yui didn't take the game seriously.

In any case, when Laito wins, he also receives his prize. Even Yui's body shaking doesn't make Laito immediately notice her illness. Why? Because we are talking about Laito. A boy who can interpret the worst things in a way that is enjoyable for himself.

I personally believe that Laito is one of the smartest characters in this story. It's wrong to say that Laito doesn't notice Yui's bad situation. In fact, he noticed this the same day he was playing with Yui in the waterway, but the reason he doesn't pay attention to it is not because he didn't notice Yui's unusual illness.

He doesn't really want to pay attention to it. Laito considers himself a carefree and happy person and wants to maintain this fake persona that he has created for himself. Even thinking that Cordelia's return is painful for Laito, that's why he doesn't even want to think about it. And because he knows that perhaps Yui's illness is related to Cordelia, he tries to ignore it.

But Laito's behavior when he saw Yui using the medicine was really cruel. I mean Yui really needed that medicine. Come on, Laito, be at least kind enough to let her use that medicine to improve her health and restore her energy, but what you said to her was very cruel. Are you so selfish that you just don't want to suck the nasty blood soaked in medicine and ignore Yui's whole illness?

It's really funny that Laito says that if Cordelia is behind all of this, you should stop trying to fix things. It's really strange to hear this from a guy who loves tough girls, but I think it's a sign that Laito has been giving in to Cordelia for years. In fact, since he forgot his innocence and was infected by Cordelia.

Laito's character is very complex. The thoughts in his head are completely different from the sentences he utters in front of others. You can never judge him by his words because the thoughts in his head are completely different from the sentences he utters. Knowing Laito's thoughts on Yui, we can definitely tell that he is worried about Yui even if he pretends not to care.

It is not an exaggeration to say that Laito is afraid of Cordelia. Laito pointed out that if she was behind all this, he should surrender.

I don't know how to describe how Laito feels about Cordelia, but Cordelia definitely made Laito the person he is now. Because even Laito himself has forgotten his real identity and misinterpreted his feelings towards his mother. Laito never wanted to be infected. Maybe this is the reason why he doesn't like others to be pure and tries to pollute them. So easy that if I am not pure, others should not be pure either.

Does the fear of Cordelia's presence make Laito force Yui to stay at home and rest, or is it the fear of her becoming weaker? In my opinion, both. Laito keeps thinking about Yui's bad situation and we can't deny that he is worried about Yui, but he doesn't like to express this concern directly, so he uses Cordelia as an excuse. But even the presence of Cordelia scares Laito, so even this is not a lie.

The fact that Laito keeps thinking about Yui but tries to lie even to himself with different words shows that he is not being honest with himself. Or in other words, Laito is lost in this false identity he has created for himself and thinks that if he is really worried about the one he loves, he can no longer be his true self, while all these feelings are showing us the real Laito. Laito who tried to hide behind a false identity for years. This is something he himself admits.

(I shouldn't care about it. That's what someone like me should do.) Actually, the false persona that Laito uses to hide in this cruel world. This is Laito's way of defending himself against the oppression of the world. Hiding in a false identity that hurts everyone and cares for no one. Even if this Laito is not real.

Laito's excuses for forcing Yui to eat to regain her health are believable because that's what Laito always pretended to be. That he doesn't care about anything but his own pleasure.

I have a question here. Why was Laito angry at Yui's apology? I mean, Laito didn't show so much sensitivity about this before and didn't shout that you shouldn't apologize if you didn't do anything wrong. Because none of these events are your fault.

I interpret this way that Laito gets irritated by Yui's purity. Maybe this is the reason for Laito's compassion towards Yui. Laito has witnessed how much Yui has suffered and endured for having Cordelia's heart, and the fact that she apologizes even though she is a victim makes Laito angry because he knows that Yui does not deserve to be treated like this. And that she considers all the bad things to be her own fault.

Laito doesn't say it in words, but he wants Yui to care more about herself and know how valuable her existence is. Laito has been hurt by a cruel world before, just like Yui is now, but Laito hides in a new identity to save himself, something Yui can never do because Yui is a pure and simple girl. Yui's innocence makes Laito angry so much that he shouts, don't apologize. You are not the one who should apologize.

Laito's attempt to avoid Yui is futile. He thinks about Yui every moment and everywhere, and even he considers this incident as karma.

Laito shouts out loud why my heart hurts. It is not possible that I got Yui's disease. These feelings are heavy and painful. He doesn't want to accept it, but the reason is because of his love for Yui, and seeing her wither before his eyes hurts him more than anything.

Laito does not want to experience the pain again. That's why he shouts, I don't need these feelings. These feelings are not mine.

In fact, Laito has forgotten his true identity and thinks that these feelings have nothing to do with his new identity. But he never gets rid of them. Because Laito is still the same guy who stands behind a mask because he doesn't want to get hurt.

Laito does not want to accept these feelings lightly. Because he is Sakamaki Laito. Vampire who says lies and does not care about anyone. The mask with which Laito shows himself to the world. But behind this mask, the real Laito is hidden and does not want to come out. So he tries to get rid of these painful feelings in another way.

When Yui loses consciousness on a very dreamy date, Laito sees it as his best chance to end her pain right there. Of course, to end her pain? Or is this what he thinks?

"If we settle everything here, both your pain and mine will be relieved. You are tired of this pain. me too. So wouldn't it be great to get rid of it right here?"

Laito doesn't expect Yui to agree with him. That's why when Yui smiles at him, Laito shouts that he didn't smile. Cry and beg for life.

Again, it's Laito fighting his own emotions. Seeing Yui's innocent and pure face who accepts death and smiles at him in the last moments of her life torments him more. The thought of how Yui can be so pure even when she is contaminated by his hands. How can Yui look at him with love like this when she is going to be killed by his hands.

but no Laito's hands do not move. Because that's not what he wants. These feelings tormented him even more than Yui's pain. He wanted to end his own pain, so he decided to end his own life instead of Yui.

These feelings torment Laito more than anything to see the dearest person in his life die in front of his eyes, or even worse, decide to kill her with a false mask, with the lie that the pain of both of them will be relieved.

This is why Laito considers himself a loser. A loser who didn't even try to save his lover and selfishly decided to relieve his own pain. Not the pain of his lover.

It is hard for him to imagine a world without Yui. The pain is much more terrible than the pain Yui used to endure. Laito sees this world with pain and suffering. That's why he wanted to relieve his pain quickly, not to see Yui's withering and death. Maybe it's a strange way to express love. But Laito needed to lose his true identity once to understand what his true feelings are and how much Yui is dear to him. His loss behind a false mask led him to find Yui and Yui saved him from the false world that Laito made for himself and showed him that even in a cruel world there is light and hope.

Yui is dear to Laito. Dearer than anyone else. Yui made Laito rediscover his true self. And understand that there is nothing wrong with having feelings and hiding them is more painful than anything else.

Laito knows that he can't live without Yui and that was the feeling that bothered him, but hiding behind a false mask was never the way to ease Laito's pain.

It was hard for him to express his feelings because he was afraid of people and the cruel world, but now with Yui's help, he has learned to overcome this fear and come out from behind the false mask. This is the only thing that relieves his pain. Being by Yui's side and expressing his true feelings.

[ohbo-ohno]

Revisiting a distant memory but its ex lovers with Price. Maybe some yearning? And incorporating "for the old times sake"? Thanks and happy writing!

1k game here - no more please!

GOD this one is hard!! i lovelovelovelove second chance romances (it's my favorite romance trope lol) but i really have absolutely no idea if i'm any good at writing them :')

2k of price x reader ft. reader mourning her marriage at a friend's wedding and price trying to be a good future ex-ex-husband. (btw this is laswell's wedding so we're all pretending that she says "girlfriend" instead of "wife" in game to make this work) no smut!

It's difficult not to drown your glass of wine in one long swallow, the déjà vu an almost overwhelming feeling.

You know it's not fair to Kate, but God did she have to have her wedding in the same venue as yours? Everywhere you look you're reminded of the best day of your life, and the subsequent worst months.

You take a deep breath, and try to shove all thoughts of the past out of your head.

It isn't easy these days. Even though you were the one to ask for the divorce, you've never stopped loving - stopped wanting - John. You feel the loss of him everyday, just like you had the endless weeks and months he spent deployed.

It wasn't the time away that did you in - it was the secrecy of it all. You maintain that you could've made the relationship work had you at least known where he was, or even been afforded texting rights. But it's hard to pretend you're living a normal life when you haven't heard from your husband in six weeks and you have no idea whether he's even alive.

The day Kyle came to the door instead of John, you knew you couldn't stay married to him.

He was lucky - John had been injured and sent Kyle to bring you to the hospital since he was already back on base, but you'd seen the man and broken down into sobs before he'd even managed to get a word out. The poor soldier had tried his best to tell you that your husband was alive and would be fine, but you were inconsolable.

Once you'd realized what was going on you realized the truth of your situation. John's death would break you, and you'd never recover from it.

That moment where you'd thought he was gone... it was like a part of you had died, like grief had swallowed you whole and refused to let go.

You were scared when Gaz finally explained to you what was really going on. And all at once, all the pieces of your life started to click together.

When you served John with divorce papers you told him that you couldn't handle so much time apart anymore, that you wanted more stability in your life than he could give you. But the truth is you were scared, and a growing part of you thought that maybe if you distanced yourself before he got himself killed, the inevitable grief would be easier to swallow.

You think he saw through your bravado and straight to your fear. You've never known John Price to be anything but a fighter, but he hardly hesitated when you gave him the papers with shaking hands. He raised an eyebrow, said are you sure this what you want, love? and hugged you after he signed.

You'd cried more than he had, had sobbed into his chest and clung to him to hold you together. Looking back you're embarrassed of your reaction, but at the time it truly felt like you were cutting off half of your soul.

It still feels like that most days. Sometimes you lie awake at night, haunted by the idea that you've only caused yourself more grief, that you're going to feel hurt and terrible until something or someone kills John, and then you'll have to experience that grief you fear anyways.

But you've made your bed, and now you're laying in it, cold and lonely and missing your husband.

You take a deep breath and a small sip of your wine, try to center yourself. It's difficult not to dwell on your own mistakes - perceived or real - but you're determined not to cry at Kate's wedding. You are not going to be that divorced woman. You simply refuse.

Still, it's a close call. You close your eyes and drain the glass before your fingers stop shaking, and you hate that you've got nothing to do with your hands, nothing to distract yourself with. The deep breaths don't help, and the idea of getting a bit wine-drunk looks more and more appealing.

When you open your eyes again, John stands in front of you, holding a fresh glass out in offering.

He looks good, but you already knew that. It was difficult to look anywhere but him during the service, and he caught you enough times for it to become almost humiliating. You've been telling yourself all night that you could pass the flush in your cheeks off as the heat of an outdoor ceremony, but you know he noticed.

Still, he doesn't look smug about your obvious discomfort. Silver lingings, and all.

You take the offered glass after just a moment, deciding that it might be better to bite the bullet and invite John back into your space rather than keep trying to avoid him all night. It's not like your divorce is a secret - every person in this room saw you two attend countless events together, the tension between you two is probably painfully obvious.

John steps to your side as you take a small sip, heart skipping a beat at the taste of your favorite wine.

"Where did you get this?" It's not what they're serving, or you'd probably already be well on your way to wine drunk.

He smiles softly at you, dimples covered by his beard. "I can't give away all my tricks. Then what would you keep me around for?"

You laugh a little sadly at that, and his smile grows.

Honestly, you've missed John enough that you don't even really mind if he keeps your wine hostage for the rest of the night. You're willing to keep up the facade if he is.

You take another sip and stand a bit straighter, try to prepare yourself for another conversation with your ex-husband. None of them have been easy, but it gets less and less painful to see him every time. You know he goes out of his way to make this easier on you, never once showing any hint of animosity. Besides the lack of PDA, he's hardly changed his behavior from when you were actually married.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

He shoots you a look, one that says he remembers exactly how much you always hated small talk, but he indulges you. "It's a beautiful ceremony."

"It is."

He cocks an eyebrow. "But...?"

You sigh, gesturing with your glass as the wine loosens your tongue just enough for you to be a little too honest with your ex-husband. "It's all a little too familiar, isn't it? I mean, I haven't been back here since our... well, you know."

He snorts. "Yes, I do remember our wedding day."

You flush, elbowing him playfully. "Don't tease."

His smile is familiar, everything you've missed from him, when he looks down at you. "Can't help it, love." He lifts a hand, one big palm cupping your cheek and running a thumb over the apple of it. "You're just too pretty when you blush."

You can't help but close your eyes, leaning into his rough palm a bit. God, you miss him so much. Having him here, feeling his touch, and knowing that you'll go home tonight to an empty bed...

It's almost too much. The tears come entirely against your will.

"Oh, sweetheart," he coos, other hand cupping your cheek and thumbing away your tears. You blink up at him, free hand wrapping loosely around his wrist.

His eyes bore deeply into yours, and you see everything you feel reflected there. The memories, the pain, the yearning, the love that just refuses to dissipate.

"John," you whisper, voice shaky.

His head dips forward just enough to rest your foreheads together, breaths mingling. Despite the music still playing and the sound of conversations all around you, you can't help but feel like the world begins and ends with the man in front of you.

That's always what John has been for you - everything. Even now, months after your separation, you haven't figured out how to live in a world that isn't defined by John Price. You're not sure you really want to.

"Oh, love," he sighs, grip just firm enough to make you feel held. "When are you coming home?"

You bite your lip to hold back a sob, face crumpling. John coos a little, pressing forward just enough to kiss the tip of your nose and using his thumb to coax your lip from between your teeth.

"It's alright," he soothes, rubbing soft circles into the indention your teeth left in your lipstick. "We don't have to talk about it now, alright? You can take all the time you need. I'm a patient man."

You nod a little, taking in another deep breath. His patience was always something you'd admired, considering your own patience is horribly short. You can't stand to wait, and despite the many times he'd try to help you see the beauty in delay (both in and out of the bedroom), you'd only become frustrated.

Like now. Here John stands, poised and put together and nowhere near tears, and you're the exact opposite. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't one of the main reasons you fell for him in the first place - he's always balanced you out where you need it most.

You take another gulp of your wine, the glass half gone already. John chuckles a little as he stands up, hands shifting to rest on your upper arms and giving you a comforting squeeze. "Might have to get you another glass sooner than I expected."

You consider him for a moment, thoughts slow but a bit erratic, and then drain the rest of the glass in one go.

His eyes widen a bit as you nearly slam the glass onto a table, looking up at him with determination.

"No more wine - for now - but how about a dance?"

You wouldn't be asking if you hadn't had three glasses of wine already. But you have, and you're just inebriated enough to say screw it. As long as you don't wake up next to John tomorrow, nothing you do at the reception can really hurt your progress in getting over him too much.

But God when he smiles at you like that, soft and loving and just sweet, you want to forget completely about the divorce and go back to the life you'd had.

Stress and fear and separation pains regardless, you want John Price with every bone in your body. But you can't help that your mind convinces you otherwise, whispers all the reasons being with him can only lead to pain.

He shakes you out of your musings by offering a hand, stepping away just enough to make you reach for him.

"For old time's sake?" He asks when you take his hand, letting him pull you onto the dance floor with the other couples happily dancing together.

You nearly giggle at the poor excuse, knowing you can both see right through it. Still, you agree with him.

"For old time's sake."

You both know it's a lie, know that there's something more to a slow dance at a wedding, but you're not ready to say it yet. For now you'll hide behind the mask of nostalgia for better days.

Someday you'll be able to move forward. But that's a mission for post-wedding you to figure out, a plan for future-you to construct. Wedding-you, almost-wine-drunk-you is more than happy to let your ex-husband tug you close and trail his hands almost inappropriately low on your waist.

You tell yourself that you can worry about John's words, about his tone and his touchiness, in the morning.

For now, you bask in the presence of the love of your life, and try not to think about how much it will hurt when you leave him all over again at the end of the night.

[uvobreakmylegs]

New Beginnings

a fic I wrote in earlier in the year for Suiren's birthday :D

Mafia AU, Nobunaga x reader

Warnings: kidnapping, captivity, stalking, delusional Nobu strikes again

Word count: 3.8k

The flowers probably weren't salvageable, Nobunaga thought to himself.

He'd intended on them being a nice gesture, something to make you feel more at ease when you saw them. Instead, they were the first thing you knocked over after he grabbed you in order to keep you from running out of his quarters.

A mess was all that remained of his gesture: the water that had quickly soaked into the carpet while the spider lilies and bits of broken vase were strewn about. A mess that needed cleaning up, but one that he'd been unable to get to for….. Damn, a few hours now.

Turning his attention away from the time and back to you, Nobunaga did feel a little bit of relief.

This whole thing had been a little chaotic, but at least you had finally calmed down now.

After spending hours fighting against Nobunaga, struggling in his grip and crying and just trying to get away from him after the harrowing experience of being kidnapped, you had stilled as you finally sat motionless in his lap with your back leaning against his chest. You still sniffled from time to time, a few stray tears still rolling down your cheek, but you weren't actively trying to escape him anymore.

Nobunaga's arms were still wrapped around you, but once you had settled some, he had placed one hand on your head to softly stroke your hair.

“Finally tired out?” he asked.

You didn't give a response. Earlier, when you'd been fighting him, you had tried to scream as loud as you could, hoping that the noise might get some help sent your way. Nobu had anticipated this, and one of his hands clamped over your mouth to muffle your screams as he told that you'd be disturbing the others on the floor if you did that. It seemed that because of that, you didn't want to answer him now.

Nobunaga tilted his head at you, saying your name in a questioning tone.

“Don't ignore me now,” he said, “talk to me.”

You shook your head.

He considered you for a few moments before he sighed.

“I know that wasn't the best way to bring you here,” he said, “but others had become aware of you. I couldn't risk leaving you out there while enemies knew about our relationship.”

That seemed to strike a nerve.

“What fucking relationship?” you hissed, “I don't even know you.”

“You know that isn't true,” he replied, “I saw you almost every day last week.”

“Yeah, and it was weird as hell to see you outside my apartment almost every day,” you snapped, “you stalking me doesn't count as us having a relationship.”

Nobunaga sighed.

“I hate to go playing the blame game,” he began, “but you do know that I needed to do that since you wouldn't talk to me, right?”

“You didn't need to do that!” you spat, “you could've just accepted that I wasn't interested and left me alone!”

“We made a connection-”

“No we didn't,” you insisted, interrupting him, “you're not my boyfriend, I'm not your lover; we're two complete strangers who happened to have a conversation on the street and went our separate ways after. There's nothing more than that.”

Your voice then wavered when you said “we don't have a relationship.”

Anyone else may have answered the wake-up call in your words, that he was seeing things that hadn't actually been and try to make this situation right by letting you go as you so desperately wanted.

But Nobunaga found himself focused on the fact that you remembered the first time the two of you met. And while you hadn't spoken much of the details of that meeting, the fact that it stayed in your mind must've meant that it was just as significant to you as it was to him.

Despite how short that meeting had been, you had felt a connection to him just as he had to you.

You were just having a harder time accepting it, that you could jump into a relationship with him based on that alone.

For that reason, Nobunaga wasn't at all surprised that you had fought with him during and after your kidnapping, but he was hoping you would given up earlier. Every second you fought him was a second he could've used to prove that he loved you.

“I know,” he answered, “I know you don't get it yet.”

“But this is necessary. To keep you safe,” he added.

“Kidnapping isn't how you keep people safe,” you responded bitterly.

“In this instance, it is,” said Nobunaga, “and eventually, you'll realize that.”

“No-!”

You began to struggle again. Despite how little it had done you earlier, the urge to get away from him took over you once more and you did your best to wiggle out of the firm grip that held you.

Fat lot of good that did.

Nobunaga was starting to get annoyed, but he told himself he couldn't become angry with you. If he did something drastic like hitting you or tying you to the bed, it would make you that much more resentful of him.

“Is this a second wind?” he asked, “if I have to hold you the entire night I will.”

“No!”

Just as before, your attempts to get out of his hold were pitiful, and you were reduced to a sobbing mess within minutes. Nobu watched you carefully, readying himself to cover your mouth again if he had to. He had gotten annoyed with other spiders for the noises their darlings had made on the first few nights they had been taken, and he didn't want to give any of the others any ammo to mock him for you being just as bad.

When your sobs had quieted again, Nobunaga turned you so you were facing him, using his thumb to wipe away your tears before lifting your chin up so you could look him in the eye. You gave him a sour look, but he ignored it.

“I know you want to leave, but I'm sure that in time, this place will feel like home for you,” he said.

You shook your head.

“No.”

Were the other darlings this obstinate when they first arrived? Nobu personally couldn't imagine Feitan, Shalnark or Machi tolerating behavior like this. He sighed again. Hurting you and showing you how bad things could be if he was unhappy was certainly an option, but he had no desire to break you and make you fear him more than you already did. Punishment would only come for truly serious offenses. Right now he needed to be patient with you.

“Give it time,” Nobunaga said, “for the next week or so you won't be allowed out of our living quarters, and if you keep acting up, it could be longer before I let you into the common areas of the floor. After that, you'll be allowed in several points of the building. And maybe on occasion when we get permission, we can go outside together.”

“I need permission to go outside?” you asked. There was a rage bubbling in your eyes again. Somehow learning that made you more angry than afraid again.

“You're mine now,” he explained, “and there will be those who will try to hurt me by hurting you.”

“I'm not yours! People don't belong to people!” you yelled.

You began to hit him again, beating your fists against his chest over and over. Nobu decided it was better to just take this and let you tire yourself out again. Better this than you starting to yell again and force him to hold your mouth shut. Angry tears flowed down your cheeks at the hopelessness of the situation. Surely you realized that even if you managed to get away from him, the amount of security you had seen on your way in was still in your mind, and you would know that there was no hope of you running out of this building without being stopped by someone.

Eventually your assault on him stopped, and you pressed your forehead against his chest in defeat.

It was quiet now, the only noise in the room being that of your ragged breathing.

Should he say something?

… Maybe not. So far Nobu had only managed to upset you every time he spoke, and that certainly wasn't winning him any points with you. The best course of action might be to stay quiet until you said or did something.

And a few moments later, you did speak.

“Why…”

Your voice was barely over a whisper, but he still heard you, and he tilted his head at you as he waited for you to continue whatever you were saying.

“Why did you do this to me?” you asked.

Betrayal.

Through your soft, sad voice, he could clearly hear it. Sense it in the way you now clutched at his shirt. You had trusted him, and he had re-payed that trust by forcibly taking you. That needed to be what this was.

And yet knowing that gave Nobunaga a bit of hope. For you to be betrayed, you had to have liked him at least somewhat. The way you had smiled at him on the day you met was still so clear in his mind. He was certain that there was at least some bit of affection for him in your heart, and once you got over your kidnapping and you realized just how much you meant to him, he was certain those feelings would come back and grow stronger.

Once you were able to get over that hurdle in your head, everything would be fine.

Nobu wasn't sure if you had wanted an answer to your question, but after a few moments, he responded softly “because I love you.”

You didn't react.

Maybe you weren't listening, or maybe the events of tonight had simply exhausted you and you no longer could react. Either way it was out in the open now, and even if you didn't believe him in that moment, eventually you would.

He now had all the time he needed to convince you of that.

When you shifted in his hold and tried to pull away again, his grip around you tightened, anticipating a third attempt of getting away from him.

“Please let go,” you said, not looking at him, “I need to use the bathroom.”

“…. Alright. But leave the door unlocked,” he said, his tone becoming a bit more firm as he added “there'll be problems if I need to break it down.”

You nodded somewhat hastily, and with that, he finally loosened his grip completely. You were fast to scramble off of his lap and make your way to the bathroom door, closing it a bit too quickly, but you listened to his warning as there was no click of the lock after.

But what he could hear after was the sound of you sobbing again, your soft cries echoing slightly against the smooth surfaces in the bathroom. He had thought that maybe you had run out of tears, but apparently not.

Now was probably the best time to give you a bit of space. You hadn't immediately run for the door to the entrance of his quarters like he was worried you would, so you were deserving of that much.

As he sat and waited for you to process your emotions, his mind went back to the day the two of you met and the random act of fate that put the two of you together.

He'd run into you on a windy day when you were coming out of a flower shop, a bouquet of red flowers in one hand while the other had been occupied with shoving your wallet back into your bag. While you weren't turned away from him, the majority of your face had been obscured from his view due to the wide-brimmed hat you were wearing.

At first he had only barely acknowledged your presence, his eyes naturally going over to you when you had initially exited the shop just to be aware of the new person that was now in his sights. Nobu hadn't anticipated that you might be a threat, but with his status in the troupe and the dangers that came with having such a position, it didn't hurt to be too careful. The would-be assassins of the world took many different forms.

He didn't spend long looking at you once he determined that there was nothing to be worried about, turning his attention back towards the walkway in front of him, his thoughts going back to the troupe and recent issues that had cropped up, ones regarding the owner of a private security company that operated within Yorknew. From his peripheral vision, he had noted that you had begun walking away from the flower shop entrance, heading in the direction opposite of him, and the thoughts of you would've quickly exited his mind once you were out of his line of sight.

Nobunaga would've passed you by completely had it not been for what happened next.

A gust of wind blew past you, and it was strong enough that it knocked your hat off of your head. You tried to grab it with your free hand but you weren't fast enough, and you started to follow, trying to hurry and grab it before it got too far away or touched the ground.

Instead, Nobu caught it.

It was mostly instinct that made him catch it. Just an instance where he saw from the corner of his eye that something was coming towards his head and he reacted. He only realized what had happened when he felt the material against his fingers and then looked at it to confirm.

And then you walked up to him, thanking him for not allowing the thing to blow away.

Something about you struck him. Something about the way you smiled and thanked him as he handed the hat back to you.

Something about the way you looked at him so sweetly.

“No problem,” he told you, having been barely able to remember that it was best to give you some sort of response.

That probably should've been the end of it, but something in him compelled him to keep talking to you. You'd set the hat back on your head when the wind blew again, and while this time it didn't escape you again, you needed to grab and hold it in place.

That had made for an easy enough topic of conversation.

“Doesn't seem like you dressed appropriately for this sort of weather,” he commented, brushing some of his hair behind his ear.

“Guess not,” you agreed, laughing as you said “it looked nice enough out today, so I didn't think to check what the conditions were. Lesson learned. Won't do that again.”

Nobu nodded along absentmindedly before glancing at the bouquet you held. All he'd really noted before was their red coloring, but now that he was looking at them for more than a few seconds….

…. Weren't the Spider Lilies associated with death and bad luck?

“Someone die?” he asked, nodding towards the flowers.

“Hm? Ah, they do tend to have a negative connotation, don't they?” you said, laughing a little.

Then you shook your head, adding “but these are for me. I like them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think they're pretty.”

Nobunaga glanced at them again.

The shade of red was nice, he supposed.

“I am a little surprised, though,” you said, “I didn't think most guys were interested in flowers. Not most guys around here, at least.”

“I can't say that I'm interested,” Nobu answered, “I've just heard enough about them to know that they're typically a bad sign.”

“Yeah,” you said again, “but I still like them.”

The conversation came to an end after that; you apparently had somewhere you needed to be. And to be fair, it was the same case for Nobu, as he was very likely going to be late for a troupe meeting.

You thanked him once more for saving your hat, and shortly after you were on your way, once again heading in the opposite direction of him. And although your face was quickly obscured from him, Nobunaga felt certain that he saw you smiling to yourself as you walked away.

After watching you for a moment, he had turned and began to walk as well, heading back towards his destination, though his thoughts had remained on you.

It was strange how one little interaction had stayed with him like that. How a single conversation about weather and flowers that hadn't even lasted five minutes replayed in his head for the entire rest of the day and only ended when he finally fell asleep that night, just to end up replaying in his head again the morning after.

He had accepted that the meeting between you two was fate the day after that and that the two of you were meant to be together. Why else would he be thinking of you so often? Why else would you have spoken with him like that? Why else had the elements themselves conspired to bring about a scenario where you were made to interact with one another?

It was the only explanation that made any sense.

Luck had been on his side when he remembered the flower shop he saw you walk out of – it was one that was under the troupe's protection, and for that reason, the owner had no choice but to allow Nobu to look through the shop's recent orders when he went in for a surprise 'visit'.

Luck was on his side again as it turned out you had called the shop to place the order for the spider lilies, giving them your name and phone number that they had yet to clear from their records.

It was incredibly easy to find you after that.

Back to the present, Nobu sighed to himself as he thought over what had happened after he'd found where you lived and how you'd become increasingly defensive every time he spoke with you. Maybe he'd come on too hard those other times. And now this, having no other option than to take you to the Nitery just to ensure your safety when you made it clear that you didn't want to go.

Nobunaga had no doubt that it would be a long, strenuous process for you, to accept your place as his darling and to learn to love him back, but even if that process took forever, you would give in.

You were meant to.

Several minutes had passed, and you still hadn't left the bathroom. He wasn't worried that you had managed to escape through there; that room had no windows, and the air vents were far too small for anyone to fit through.

Still, at a certain point he needed to make sure you were alright.

Getting up and standing before the closed door, he knocked on it gently as he called out your name.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

No answer.

His brows furrowed, and he took the knob in hand and turned it.

He found you in the shower, curled up in a corner of the stall and your head resting against your knees as you were fast asleep.

You must have been truly exhausted to have fallen asleep in such a place.

Nobunaga gingerly picked you up and carried you bridal style out of the bathroom. Though he had spent several hours with you in his arms, there was something about how you were so docile right now, not fighting against him and even pressing yourself further against him in your sleep. A shame that it was only because you weren't awake at the moment. But someday, he told himself, he would get to the point where you would long to be in his arms, where you would beg for his touch and for him to give you everything he had to give.

Not tonight. Or anytime soon.

But maybe in a matter of months he could get you to that point.

He placed you on his bed, putting the covers over you after. Tomorrow he'd have some of his lackeys accompany him to your old apartment and gather up some of your clothing and other items that you might miss. For tonight, though, you'd need to make due with sleeping in your clothes.

And what he'd need to make due with tonight was sleeping on the couch. As much as he wanted to go to sleep with you in his embrace, you'd be upset in the morning if that was what you woke up to.

Eventually he'd get to that point without you being disgusted with him, he told himself as he turned off the light of the bedroom, leaving you sleeping peacefully in the dark.

Now alone in the main area of his quarters, Nobunaga was about to turn off the lights and pass out on the couch – it was horribly late by now.

But just as he went to flick the light switch, he caught sight of the broken vase and flowers that still hadn't been cleaned up, and he sighed to himself again. Better to clean it up now so he wouldn't have the hassle of doing that the next day as well.

Pulling over a small trash bin, he began to collect the pieces of vase and tossed them in before going to the flowers. It felt like a shame to throw them away, especially since you liked them. Though it really was your fault for smacking them like you did.

Nobunaga looked at the flower he currently held; the stem was bent and some of the petals had fallen off.

Death, bad luck and abandonment, he remembered. Just a few of the meanings this flower had.

You'd met him when you were carrying a bouquet of these, and you saw the red spider lily again when you were brought to his room at the Nitery.

Maybe you were reconsidering how much you liked them and how much bad luck they had brought you so far.

That fleeting thought caught him off-guard, and he froze, broken flower still in hand.

…..

… Superstition was silly, he told himself as he continued with the clean up.

If anything, these flowers represented good luck for him, because if it hadn't been for you going to that flower shop on that day to collect them, he might not have found you.

It was pure chance and good luck that brought the two of you together, and while Nobunaga knew you didn't see it that way now, eventually you'd stop lying to yourself and admit that it was true: you were meant to be together.

But until that day came, he'd be patient with you and do whatever he could so you would understand that. Happiness for the two of you would come eventually when you gave in.

You were meant to, Nobunaga repeated to himself.

[interstyx]

The longer this workplace abuse situation goes on the less I'm inclined to believe it. At face value it's a very typical development for entertainment companies -- I presume at least some of you know about Telltale Games and Kindly Beast, just to name some -- but the more testimonies that come out the fishier this smells.

We know that there were some bad times during the production of Meta Runner but the given narrative of insanely quick artist turnout and crunch just isn't supported by the actual credits in MD + TADC pilot, which remain consistent and even expand throughout. If there's indeed crunch/a high turnout, it must've then stopped before MD began production or started after TADC's pilot aired, which does not line up with the narrative laid out by the testimonies at all; these suggest years of workplace toxicity and a kind of studio-wide culture change that could not have happened so quickly, all of it made weirder by Kevin Temmer's hiring (who I understand has been through industry abuse/crunch before).

To be clear -- I think Celeste's firing is a completely fucked situation, but that we'd be wiser to separate it from the AnimeAmerica testimonies. One's confirmed true by name + Glitch responded to it, the other's all uncharacteristically vague anonymous testimony.

That's my main sticking point; the testimonies themselves are very nebulous and I believe they only evolved in detail as skepticism began piling about them. This could very well be a whole buncha cope on my part but flowery language like the last testimony's "yet you [Kevin Lerdwichagul] sit on your broken throne" is very odd when it comes from an exposing of workplace abuse. It's the kind of thing you'd find in a breakup letter, not a years-later testimony is what I'm trying to say.

It's extra weird that the testimonies would be anonymous too -- Glitch isn't exactly an established player in the industry, so I don't see how blacklisting would be a concern [EDIT: though NDAs could be behind that], and by now you'd expected some ex-employee identities to have begun coming out instead of all of them being anonymous. A personal impression that could easily turn out wrong; all of the AnimeAmerica testimonies [which are themselves not verified sources, even if the person posting them is] read awfully similar to have come from different people with different trajectories, and it's definitely eyebrow-raising that they get crazier and more flowery with time.

In any case, if there's any truth to the narrative we'll see so in the credits to MD ep7. There'll be a lot of missing names compared to ep6's/TADC's, or they'll stay mostly the same.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Wibta if I told my friend, upfront, I do not want his toxic partners in my campaign party without specifying why?

Everyone in this is 22+

So I (22NB) have been working on a campaign for at least 3 years now. I used dnd as a base and built off it to make my own world, races, mechanics, massive maps, religions, languages etc. This will be a massive campaign with highlights on religion and dealing with gods as a mortal etc and I've put so many hours into it it isn't even funny. I mean shit, I picked music for different areas depending on if it's day or night.

I made a discord server to house most of the basic info my players would need from table rules to the races and beyond. I mainly had the idea that the party would consist of my dmnpc guide (he doesn't fight or break the game, his only action during fighting is the help action and guide the party. Im not an asshole dm who makes my guide the protagonist. If its important, death doesn't really exist in my campaign due to demi-god race stuff, the party just gets sent back to its last save point with my grumpy man guide saying I told you so.), my partner's character (24f)(she dosent get preferential treatment. We've been together for 8 yrs) and my best bud's character (22tm. Been friends for 8 yrs). I never said I specifically only wanted my partner and friend to be party members but it was implied due to the fact I never invited my friends partners to the discord. I just don't really have many friends and this is the first time I've ever dm-ed period, let alone dming my own homebrew. We're all pretty novice newbie players and I think it'll be fun for us to stumble through the game together in a much less complicated form of DND without seasoned players "um actually-"ing us the whole time.

My partner is excited to try and my friend is ecstatic and about 2 years into development (last November) he asked if I could let his partners join the campaign. There're a few issues with this beyond me not really knowing them and not wanting to run a large party (it's hard for seasoned dms to run a 4+ party, let alone I, a fresh infant of a dm). My friend has 3 partners of his (he has 4 total) he wants to introduce to my campaign, this includes (fake names): Mel(24nb), Sandy (mid 20s f) and Rue (23 tw). I have issues with each individual present and it all stems from me sitting in on a different campaign for a single session. See, my friend has his own campaign (much smaller, follows one story in one town on an island instead of my entire continent) and he tried to run it by those three partners (and 2 friends. Names and genders unnecessary, they were our age) while I quietly sat in the session (it was over a discord call, were all in differnet states except for me and my partner) and watched it run just to see how my friend dmed and how the groups chemistry was. They had a 3 hour session.

It was the most socially awkward, intense and passive aggressive 3 hours of my life. Mel barely paid attention and as a result, had to have things explained to them when they weren't listening. They would then would talk over the person explaining things, pick apart their language and get irritated to the point of telling them (mostly rue) to shut up. Mel was quite litterally looking for a fight constantly. Sandy was relatively quiet but also not paying attention and talking over other players actions. She also would come up with random "icks " and one minute was telling everyone to keep all sexual jokes and comments to themselves because it made her uncomfortable then the next said her character was literally blowing a guy in the back of tavern.(btw this is not a fetish campaign or anything, it was out of left field for everyone and my friend shut it down because of that) Rue was the "uhm actually" type who pointed out inaccuracies, broken rules and lack of realism (it's a pirate fantasy magic campaign. There isn't much to focus on realism). Rue was clearly the most seasoned player but the nicest all things considered. She was mostly just condescending and treated my friend like he was stupid for not having every single detail mapped out. The party also had 2 of his friends but they were just as quiet as me and also either not paying attention or listening to the shit show. The session litterally ended with Sandy and Mel having the tiniest argument, mel pulling a crying running away anime protagonist "I'm sorry for being just a fucking terrible person! Ill leave so you all can have fun!!" Then hanging up all dramatically. Safe to say, their party was literally every red flag I was warned about by dm guide content.

My friend then came to me and said they broke up with Sandy that night but were still friends and I was still in shock from the sheer toxicity. Did I mention I had only met Sandy and the two other friends that night? And had only spoken over the phone to Mel once in a group call and met rue in person 2 times? Safe to say, I do not want litterally any of his partners in my party for various reasons and I feel as if just one of them at my table would make my patience end on sight. I consider myself to be very flexible and want to do my very best to be a fair but strong dm who doesn't get their story absolutely trampled by players intentionally trying to ruin my story and watch me scramble (mel and sandy openly did that). These players would disrespect my table rules for fun. Even my friend said they never respect him and his story as a DM and he won't run a game with them again and he thinks they'll respect my rule? As a baby dm? Nah fam.

He wants to bring rue and Mel into my campaign and I haven't answered him yet. I've mostly dodged the question with "I'm not sure how big of a party I feel comfortable dming for, I'll know later down the line." And he's asked again, still curious. I don't wanna judge my friends relationships because he and Mel have been together for 5 years and rue has been with him for 2 (they were together previously before rue came out and rue tried to control and physically abuse him. Thats another reason I don't want her in my campaign. Fuck abusers) but the toxicity they would bring would probably poison me. If I bring these things up, idk how my friend would react and he can be a bit... Extreme when he gets defensive. Cutting people off permanently at a moments notice then coming back crying or confused. He has BPD which explains it but I don't obviously wanna say " your partners are low-key toxic and abit abusive and I don't want them at my table or in my life for the most part and although I love you bro(/platonic) I do not want living blowfish at my table that you might not even speak to tomorrow.".

Obviously I wouldn't word it like that but mainly I just plan on saying "Ive never dmed before and I'm nervous about the functionality of my campaign so I want to keep my party nice, small and intimate and only between you, me and my partner for now. Maybe we can incorporate them later." Without mentioning all the... Other stuff and side stepping if he's like "but what if just mel/rue?". Me, my partner and him have been friends awhile so it's not like he'll feel like he's third wheeling or anything and I get he wants his partners to take in his interest, I just do not want them at my table and I wanna know if I'm a dick if I dont specify why and avoid the question. I dont wanna rock the boat and hurt my friends feelings but I'm not gonna ruin the first full run of my pet project so a passive aggressive asshole and a know it all almost abuser can participate. He deserves to know why his partners can't join and I'm not technically lieing, even if they were cool, I don't know if I'd want them there. But they definitely aren't cool and that just seals the coffin for me.

(obviously I'm wording this in a comedic way but everything here actually happened and I mostly just wanna focus on supporting my friend despite his choices. I do not have to like his partners to tolerate them but it's my table and my years of work, if i dont want them there, they dont get to be there. I'm just wondering if I'm a dick for kinda lieing kinda not if I don't give the actual reasons for why I don't want them at my table and never plan on allowing them there. I would happily accommodate 1 or 2 more people at my table in this case if they were close to me like my sister or older brother but I dont know his partners well at all and even though they are passive to me, I dont feel safe around people like that. Wibta?)

What are these acronyms?

[doppel-doodles]

Since everyone is making their own little version of the characters I thought I would join the fun for my Fallen crown Au! These were supposed to be quick little sketches just to get some ideas down but they still took me the whole day:'D will probably change as I draw them but I wanted at least something down on for the time being and I do like how most turned out!

Single versions plus some info and ramblings about each under cut for those interested:

My lamb was mainly based on both, yes the actual player character but also the vibes of my own plathrough which were very "oh god who let this child be in charge?-" while I'll still mostly just call them Lamb I figured they should still have a proper name so I went with my friends @/tamaruaart suggestion as it suits them rather nicely! And most note worthy detail is honestly just the fact that they carry something from each bishops realm on their person now, I like to think they treat those items like little trophies:>

Narinder is probably my weakest I feel like, he definitely needs something to give him some extra "ompf!". I basically made his undertaker fit a sorta reverse or at least loosely inspired by his white robes in game. I imagine he is very boney or a straight up skeleton underneath so he covers it all up beneath heavy fabrics, but because I lack subtly I still covered him in bones regardless-

And yea I kept the veil cause 1. It's a look and 2. It coviently covers up his now sewn shut third eye.

There wasn't much reason behind making him an undertaker, I simply thought it suited him, when your the former god of death you aren't exactly squeamish around corpses. Lastly the dark blues are there to contrast the other followers warm tones, as they kinda seen him as an outcast which is just fine for narinder he isnt exactly thrilled to be here.

I'll put Leshy and Heket together as they were sorta designed as a set.Since they are both youngest among the bishops I sorta latched onto the headcanon that they get along pretty well and just stick together after getting into the cult so they just share a lot of their duties. So I gave them some matching elements like the puffy shorts but also stuff that contrasts like Leshy having looser clothing and Hekets being more tight. Or Heket getting working gloves with a little belt to hold tools plus a hat for the sun, meanwhile Leshy will happily dig through the dirt bare clawed in the sun for hours-

I debated on giving Heket an apron but honestly I think she would only wear one while cooking or tending the farm plots there is no reason for her to wear it casually, the gloves though stay for I reason I utterly love because its PETTY-

Literally the only reason she keeps them on almost constantly is because when the lamb asks she can be like "ew, I'm not touching you with my bare hands." Yes, my humour is broken moving on-

I also gave Leshy a cane just so he actually has something to feel around with when he is areas he isn't too familiar with so he isn't running into crap- on that note, Heket can speak a bit but not exactly loud or for a very long time without seriously hurting her throat, once I properly learn it I definitely wanna draw her using sign language.

Lastly bodies, Leshy was based off a previous drawing I made of him in bishop form, I simply made it less monsterous but he is in charge of chaos so he had to remain a creature- Heket is more straight forward, she is a frog and she is large and in charge.

There was one reason why I made Shamura a tailor and that was the mental image of them sewing the bishops clothes when they were younger and dressing them up all cute.

I went for more pink colors mainly because I thought it better suited the purple and would make their red eyes pop! Honestly I really love their colors they remind me of a Berry! I've drawn shamura before but honestly the only things that stuck were the colors,face and then also the hand markings I did tweak their eyes a bit I wanted something more stern feeling.

For clothing I kept everything nice and loose, while they are the tailor I also love the idea that in their spare time they either teach the youths in the cult or are like the champion of the fighting pit because war is also their domain and they can be- so I wanted them dressed pretty comfy to deal with whatever may come! But still keep everything pretty mature and mildly fancy maybe in the future I'll do some fancy gold and silver embroidery to the pants because of that.

As for body type I wanted them to be pretty thin but unlike Narinder who is twink material under his cloak they have a bit more bulk on top to show that they can choose violence if they so wish-

I adore me some pathetic but still serving men, honestly except for the cross on his belt I completely ignored the fact I made him a medic- If he needs to treat something gross he can throw something over to protect his clothes but just like Heket there is no reason for him to wear that while not working.

Otherwise my main goal was simply to make Kalamar look pretty and fancy. I debated on either short or long bottoms until I realized I'd have to figure out his tentacle situation, then realized I don't hate myself THAT MUCH so bro got put into a floor length gown, work smarter not harder kids.

If I have an excuse to give a character a shawl I will take it so fast.

His body type I mainly wanted to flesh out the roster so I tried making him very squishy and huggable looking, I debated on thinner so he looked more dangly and stretchy but that made him kinda to similar to Narinders build for my liking.

[noa-ciharu]

I'm not sure if I'm onto something here but this page/explanation plus everything that follows has always been suspicious to me

First and foremost: blood poisoning isn't most peaceful way to die, far from that. If poison is so lethal Dazai and Fyodor are supposed to die in 30 mins symptoms would have started showing right away - and yet throught whole Meursalut escape arc we see none. Not a single 'I'm feeling weak'. It's stated that Fyodor spent 5 mins just waiting for Chuuya to arrive so I'm really doubtful whole sequence of him and Chuuya nearly drowning, then killing time halting ability user, trying to drown Sigma and Dazai, Fyodor's and Sigma's confrontation and Fyodor's escape could have happened under 25 mins. Of course, it could be that whatever Nikolai gave them takes more than half an hour to kill a human but that still doesn't explain 1) why no symptoms 2) why neither Dazai nor Fyodor seem to be in the hurry to leave

Therefore my assumption is that whatever Nikolai gave them wasn't lethal in the first place.

But why lie then? Why organize the whole game to begin with?

Well, it's certainly challenging to determine motives of character as unpredictable as Nikolai. His absurdist life philosophy of seeking freedom by trying to escape himself and what makes him human certainly doesn't help the case. One of guesses can be pure entertainment, just for sake of it. For an entertainer it fits the bill. But I think there's more to it.

Except he doesn't really. By now we know whatever Fyodor's ability is that it isn't combat one - if Nikolai wanted to kill him he wouldn't necessarily need to know what it is. Not to mention Sigma can extract info from corpses, meaning they can kill Fyodor and then find out about his ability. While I'm certain Nikolai doesn't really want Fyodor dead, I can't claim with absolutely certain at that point in manga he's aware of that himself (of course he is after Fyodor 'dies' later on).

Much rather than that I think Nikolai is trying to kill what Fyodor evoke in him - feeling of being understood and wanting to understand other in return. That'll explain the game, trying to break Fyodor out of the prison without being too straightforward about it because he himself cannot decide what he really wants and stick by one decision, putting trust on test, wanting to know about Fyodor's ability and generally about Fyodor and so on.

While it's definitely arguable if Dazai would receive an antidote if he just killed Fyodor without actually escaping, it's also worth noting he was leisure with time (aka had time of his life soft bulling Sigma). Of course, chapter where Dazai talks with Nikolai post all the mess is yet to come out so it's impossible to tell in advance, but I have a hunch Dazai knew right from the start there's no danger of blood poisoning. Or at very least took gamble on that. Nikolai said something among "my apologies I have to poison you too but he (fyodor) wouldn't take the syringe otherwise" so it's clear right off the bat Dazai doesn't really hold his interest in that whole game. He's there for Fyodor and brought Sigma with him to extract information out of him.

As for Fyodor, did he knew blood poisoning wasn't a thing? Before chapter 111 I would have said yes given he too didn't seem to he in the hurry to escape, had no symptoms and didn't take the antidote right off the bat when Nikolai gave it to him. But then we have this:

Does Fyodor mean poison or game itself? My guess is poison because if latter that'd imply Fyodor expected Nikolai to help him break out of Mesaurlet which would imply broken trust. And we all know Fyodor and placing trust in others is like oil and water

To me Nikolai looks straightout dejected here. He's a performer that revels in these types of high stakes game, he should be grinning like a madman - but he's not. So in my opinion he was searching something from Fyodor here that he didn't quite get. It could be just in this scene/exchange or in whole game. But if my hunch that Nikolai was trying to get Fyodor out of Meursalut just needed Fyodor to place iota trust in him is correct, then Fyodor stamping over that hope and failing to see Nikolai's intention wasn't to kill him despite his theatrical proclaims it is would be reason for dejection. Whatever bids for connection he was looking in Fyodor likely won't be returned because of Fyodor's mistrust in people and abiding by cold rationale rather than intuition/emotions.

Therefore my conclusion is that whole Gogol game was a test:

- for Fyodor to put trust in others when he has no rational basis to (his major character flaw) - and that's precisely why he lost in the end. I could go miles here how Dazai put trust in Chuuya (and even Sigma) and how those bonds are very reason he managed to win but that's for some other time gives there's a lot to be talked about soukoku, I'd like to focus on doa trio here.

- for Sigma to realize the difference between being used and being of use, aka realize difference between transaction and a bond. I'd say he did well by placing trust in Dazai but it's yet to be seen if his decision to take Fyodor's hand was the 'right' one. His character arc ain't over, it heavily depends on what info he extracted from Fyodor so it's too early to tell how it'll go. Also this depends on Dazai's actions anime hasn't shown, like will he stick to his promise to save Sigma or not. Given promise he made to Oda 4 years before, I think it's definitely in character for Dazai to come back for him, fetch comatose Sigma and bring him to Yokohama.

- for Nikolai himself to realize what he wants to do with feeling of emotional/intellectual connection he deemed as 'imprisoning'. He's at conundrum himself what he wants to do with Fyodor: help him or kill him - accept the instinct or fight against it for no other reason than to oppose very self - lose sight of himself in the end just like Fyodor said. If we go by anime ending (I doubt manga one will be much diffrent), he came to realization how Fyodor changed his life and how he actually never wanted him dead but it was too late by then. Now haunted by realization only one who ever understood him and only person he ever felt connected to is dead, Nikolai will come to realize true hell of being imprisoned by own mind without means of escaping.

All three of them had some sort of downfall induced by their 'cardinal sins'; their own 'decays' as downfalls source from inner character flaws, so to speak.