#the devs saying he does terrible things excites me

[n--n]

Kuras wants a redemption arc so bad but refuses to do the actual work so he’s just doing a corruption arc speed run without realizing he’s already completed it

[scoutofmymind]

Momma I request a prompt inspired by a song of your choosing (: I L Y

Couldn’t Make It Any Harder — { Luigi x Reader }

Content: mental health issues, mentions of past trauma, TorturedArtist!Reader, Empath!Luigi, Luigi says “go birds” after flipping off a woman, confused feelings, situationship, reader is just Very Confused in general, angst, eventual romance.

Wc: 5,107

I couldn't make it

Any harder to love me

Oh, one day, believe me

You’ll want someone who makes it easy

This has been floating around in my asks for awhile, and I wasn’t feeling practically inspired by any songs lately until Sabrina released Couldn’t Make It Any Harder and I couldn’t stop thinking about writing it.

This work was done quickly between my other ongoing Luigi projects, so I apologize for any inconsistencies or skipped backstory (you know I’m a backstory bitch) but I simply needed to get this out of my system, and remembered that an anon had asked me to write something based off of a song quite awhile ago!

Also, how could I leave you hanging on Valentine’s Day? Even if I’m posting this at 2 AM….

It's 8:30 AM at your usual coffee spot — that tiny café two blocks from Luigi's apartment where the barista always draws terrible attempts at latte art, and you’re still wearing yesterday's mascara, not because you've been crying, but because you spent the night in your studio, channeling your frustration into a new piece that's all sharp edges and bold strokes.

"I mean, we had a great time!" You're gesturing with your coffee cup, nearly spilling it. "We went to that new gallery opening, and he actually understood my rant about contemporary minimalism. Then dinner, drinks, great conversation — and now? Radio silence. Three days of nothing."

Luigi, sitting across from you, is trying not to smile at how animated you are, his laptop open beside him — he's probably got a Slack channel blowing up with messages from his dev team, but he rushed to meet you for this emergency coffee session, anyway.

The startup's dress code might be casual, but he always manages to look put-together in that effortless way that makes other tech bros look like they're not trying hard enough.

"Maybe I'm just-“ you pause, stirring your coffee aggressively, "too much, you know? Too loud, too passionate, too-"

"Stop," Luigi cuts in, closing his laptop and fixing his gaze on you again, "You're not too anything. You're exactly enough. So don’t even go there with me.” He massages his temples, “Too early for it.”

"I know that," you say firmly, because you do. "That's the thing — I like who I am. I like that I can talk about art for hours. I like that I get excited about things. I like that I feel everything so intensely. I'm not going to make myself smaller just because some guy can't handle it."

"Then don't," Luigi says, and there's something in his voice that makes you look up from the foam disappearing from your cappuccino. "The right person won't want you to."

"Exactly! And you know what? If Jake can't handle a woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to say it-“ you trail off, reaching for your sketchbook. You start absent-mindedly drawing on a corner of the page.

“Ugh,” Luigi’s face screws in mock disgust, “His name was Jake?”

Putting down your pen, you lean back in your chair with a frustrated sigh. "But then again, if I'm so great, why does this keep happening? Three first dates in two months, Lu. Three. And they all end the same way."

"You mean with guys who can't handle someone who actually has opinions?" Luigi takes a sip of his coffee, his fingers tapping absently on his closed laptop. A notification buzzes on his phone — probably his team wondering where he is — but he doesn't even glance at it.

"No, see, that's just it," you lean forward, your hands moving expressively as you talk. "They love it at first. They think it's so fascinating and refreshing that I'm 'not like other girls', or whatever." You roll your eyes at the phrase, hating the taste of the words in your mouth. "But then it's like they realize I'm actually serious. That I'm not just putting on some manic pixie dream girl act for their entertainment."

Luigi's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Heaven forbid you be a real person with actual thoughts and feelings."

"Right? And I know — I know I'm not too much," you say, but your voice wavers slightly. You start fidgeting with your rings, a habit Luigi's seen a thousand times when you're wrestling with something in your head. "But sometimes I wonder if-"

"If what?"

"If maybe I should just- you know.. tone it down? Just a little? Just at first?" The words sound wrong coming out of your mouth, and you can see from Luigi's expression that he knows it, too. "No, you're right, forget I said that. That's stupid."

"It is stupid," he agrees, but gently. His eyes catch yours across the table again, his gaze steady and genuine. "Remember that installation you did last month? The one about authenticity?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you tell that bag of bones professor who said it was 'overwhelmingly honest'?"

A smile starts to spread across your face. "I told him that was the whole damn point."

"Exactly." Luigi checks his watch and starts gathering his things — he's definitely late now. "So maybe the problem isn't that you're too overwhelming,” he pats the top of your head, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “maybe they're just underwhelming."

•

You're standing in front of your last piece, forcing a smile that feels like it's splitting your face in half, as another guest explains to you what your own art means.

Behind you, you can hear snippets of conversations that make your skin crawl.

It's a bit... aggressive, isn't it?

Not quite gallery standard... these nepo kids..

Experimental, but perhaps too experimental..

Your hands are shaking, so you clasp them behind your back. You've been doing this grim waltz for two hours — nodding, smiling, explaining yourself over and over to people who look through you rather than at you, and the gallery owner keeps shooting you these looks, these little disappointed glances that make you feel about two inches tall.

You catch Luigi's eye across the room.

He's been watching, you realize, while pretending to be deeply invested in a conversation with some tech entrepreneur who probably thinks art is a good investment opportunity, and he tilts his head slightly — a question.

You shake yours — you’re not okay.

"The brushstrokes here," the current patron is saying, pointing at your most vulnerable piece, "they're rather — well, chaotic. Unorganized. Muddy. It’s strange to see. Was that intentional?"

Something inside you splinters.

"Excuse me," you manage, your voice surprisingly steady for how the room is tunneling, how your fingers begin to tingle, how your lungs have lost the ability to draw in a full breath. "I need some air."

You make it through the gallery, past the whispers and the stares, past the owner who starts to say something about maintaining appearances, past the front desk and around the corner to the back alley.

Then your legs give out.

You're gasping, trying to remember how breathing works, your back against the cold brick wall. The dress — that stupid yellow dress that Luigi said was his favorite — feels too tight. Everything feels too tight.

You tear at your collar, needing air, needing space, needing- "Hey." Luigi's voice, close but not too close. "I'm here."

"I can't-" you choke out. "I can't breathe, I can't-"

"Yes, you can." He moves slowly into your space, hands hovering but not touching. "Look at me. Just look at me. I’m right here. It’s all good.”

You shake your head violently, sliding down the wall. "They're right. They're all right. I'm not- this- This isn't-" Each word feels like it's being ripped from your throat, bloody and raw and dishonest and horrific. They aren’t right. You know they aren’t.

"Bullshit." The sharpness in his voice makes you look up. He's crouched in front of you now, his tie completely undone, his eyes fierce. "They're not right. They're not even close to right. They're looking at fireworks and complaining about the noise. Old fuckin’ bunch’a assholes.”

A sob catches in your throat, half laugh, half cry. "That's a terrible metaphor."

"Made you look at me, though." His voice softens, his hands resting on your clammy shoulders. "Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe."

You try to match his exaggerated breathing, your hands still shaking. "I put everything into this show," you whisper after your second deep breath. "Everything."

"I know."

"And they just- they- they just-“

"I know." He shifts, sitting beside you against the wall, careful to leave space, but still your shoulders bump together. "But. Want to know what I think?"

You turn your head to look at him, makeup probably ruined, dress definitely stained from the alley ground, but you’ve already abandoned ship, you’ve waved your white flag — there’s no use in pretending you haven’t crumbled in a New York alleyway now. "What?"

"I think they're terrified of you."

That startles a real laugh out of you, “What?"

"You heard me." He's looking straight ahead, but there's something fierce in his profile. "You walked in there with your soul on full display, unapologetic and raw and real, and they don't know what to do with that. People like that, they're comfortable with art they can hang in their dining rooms and forget about.” You watch him blink, gathering the words, “Your shit doesn't let them forget. It makes them feel things they don't want to feel."

You nudge him gently, a laugh flaring your nostrils. "That's a lot better than the fireworks metaphor."

Now he does look at you, a small smile playing at his lips, his cheeks blushed crimson from the wine he’d gulped down just to make himself a bit more sociable. "Yeah, well, I've had three glasses of their overpriced wine. I'm feeling poetic."

Another laugh bubbles up, watery but real. You let your head fall against his shoulder, just for a moment. "I don't want to go back in there."

"So we won’t." He doesn't move, letting you lean on him, his head leaning atop yours. "Let's go get real drinks instead. You can tell me all the things you wanted to say to that guy who tried to explain color theory to you."

"God, he was the worst." You straighten up slowly, wiping at your eyes. "Did you see his socks?"

"I was trying not to."

•

You're standing at the open bar, counting the minutes until it's socially acceptable to leave, when Madison — a college friend you haven't seen in years, who always seemed to help herself to open bars beyond her means — sways over.

Her champagne sloshes dangerously close to your dress, but for some reason, you don’t step back.

"Oh my god, it really is you!" Her voice carries just a bit too loud, and you can feel a few heads turning in your direction. "I almost didn't recognize you without, you know-“ she gestures vaguely at all of you, that sick smile still on her blush pink lips. "All the paint and shit all over you.”

You take a long sip of your drink, hoping it would wash away the rising tide of anxiety in your core. "Good to see you too, Mads.”

"So,” She leans in conspiratorially, her breath smelling of booze and mid-tier champagne. “I heard about your gallery show last month. The one at The Maxwell? God, that must have been-“ She trails off, eyes wide with what looks like concern but feels like something else entirely.

Your hand tightens around your glass. "Must have been what?" Your lips tighten into a line, “It was an- an honor to have the opportunity.”

Words your father had always said to you growing up echo in the far depths of your mind; Honor and Integrity.

There’s a humility in it, in accepting such a nightmare as privilege.

"Well, I mean — I saw that article that was going around Instagram. About how you just up and left? In the middle of opening night?" She takes another sip of champagne, watching you over the rim with her big, stupid brown eyes. "Is that true? That you didn't even come back to collect your pieces? God, that's crazy!"

The word crazy hits like a slap, and you can still feel the panic from that night, the walls closing in as people whispered, pointed, discussed your work like it was a car crash they couldn't look away from and did nothing to aid.

"It's not exactly-"

"And after everything with Matt, and then Jason- ugh,” She shakes her head. "I mean, I get it. Using art as therapy. But maybe actual therapy would be — I dunno — you know, beneficial?”

"Madison-"

"I'm just worried about you," she continues, reaching for your arm and her fingers feel like serpents, coiling around your skin, suffocating you. "We all are. First the whole thing with your poor father — god, remember how he used to say you were just too-"

"Don't." Your voice comes out sharper than intended, your brows furrowed at her like she’d backhanded you. “Don’t you fucking say another word.”

Madison almost gasps, clutching her necklace. “See? This is what I mean. All this reactionary stuff. The anger. The intensity. Have you thought about getting help? My therapist says sometimes when we've been through things-"

The garden somehow feels too small, the fairy lights too bright, the music too loud. Across the room, Luigi is trapped in conversation with the bride's uncle, but somehow he must sense something because his eyes find yours, his head tilted at you, his usual question.

Everything okay?

This time, you look away from him.

"I’m going to leave this conversation before-“

"No, wait, listen." Madison's grip on your arm tightens, slithering, sneering, hissing. Fangs, poison. “That show — people were talking about it for weeks. How raw it was. How fucking uncomfortable it made everyone. One of the pieces — the one with all the broken mirrors? Someone said it looked like a cry for help."

You can feel your pulse in your throat. "It wasn't a fucking-“

"And then you just disappeared! Like, who does that, girl? Just leaves their own show? The curator had to pack up your pieces himself. That's what the article said. Is that true?" She may as well have a microphone beneath your trembling lips, taking on the role of some cheap reporter for a local shittalking magazine.

Of course she read the article.

Everyone read the article.

The one that called your work a disturbing glimpse into a clearly troubled mind. The one that suggested your artistic breakdown was inevitable given your history of emotional instability.

It was laughable, truly, and anyone that knew you well enough had known so much to be so very far from the truth.

"I had my reasons," you manage, but your voice sounds distant even to yourself. “I had reason for leaving the way I did.”

"Obviously you did. That's what I'm saying. Maybe if you got some help, you know, dealt with all this and found ways to properly cope-“ She waves her hand vaguely again, like swatting away a pesky fly. "Then maybe you could make art that's more you know.. accessible. Enjoyable. Less-“

"Less me?" The words come out before you can stop them. “Bullshit. You wouldn’t know, Madison. You haven’t seen a single one of my shows, haven’t shown yourself at any of my gallery openings-“ your cheeks burn red hot, your glass of wine discarded and your hands balled into fists. “You’re lucky I don’t fucking pop that smirk right off your-“

"That's not what I-"

“It is exactly what you fucking-“

“No, it’s not! Look at yourself!”

"Hey!” Luigi's voice cuts through the rising panic. He's suddenly there, solid and real. "Sorry to interrupt, but we have that thing that we have to get to-“ he loops his arm around yours, and he swears he can feel the heat radiating off of you, hot and quivering like a volcano deciding if it’s time to erupt just yet or not.

Madison blinks at him, her nostrils flared at the sudden interruption. It seems as though this is exactly the reaction she wanted, and was pissed the show had called curtains so quickly. "What thing?"

"That very important thing," Luigi says firmly, already guiding you away. "Great catching up. Green is not your color. Go Birds.” As he turns you both, he raises his middle finger behind your back — not because you needed defending, but because that's who Luigi is; all sharp edges and fierce loyalty, a guard dog with his teeth bared in your honor, though, you catch the gesture in a reflection, and something warm unfurls in your chest.

Not because you needed saving, but because he'd always take your side, no matter the circumstances. He didn’t need to know why you were barking at this girl he’d never met before — he already knew you had good reason to do it.

You make it to the venue's back garden before your legs give out, and the fairy lights blur through tears you refuse to let fall. "Did you— fuck,” Your voice shakes as you reach to wipe away the tears before they even get the chance to glide down your cheeks. "Did you actually hear what she was saying or just see it?”

"Caught the greatest hits." His jaw is tight, his hand resting on your lower back as he hunches forward, clearly concerned but approaching all of it carefully.

You can’t help but wonder then how many times you’ll find yourselves like this — Luigi rescuing you from yet another mishap, and that alone could become a new reason to feel sorry for yourself.

And him.

"The article." You wrap your arms around yourself. "She read the fucking article."

Ironically, you had originally taken the article well.

Too well, in fact.

You'd invited them all over — Luigi, Anna, Theo — for what you called A Reading of My Professional Obituary. You'd spent all day in the kitchen, channeling your grandmother's stress-cooking legacy; bouillabaisse simmering for hours, Tarte Tatin caramelizing to golden perfection.

The good wine came out, the kind you'd been saving for a real occasion.

Perched in your chair like it was a throne, wine glass dangling from your fingers, you'd performed dramatic readings of the choicest quotes. "Sources close to the artist describe a history of emotional instability," you'd intoned, affecting a pompous art critic voice that had Luigi choking on his wine. "An unsettling collection that seemed less like art and more like a cry for help.”

The evening devolved into a tipsy game of "Guess the Snitch" — everyone taking turns suggesting increasingly ridiculous candidates for the mysterious source. "It was Gabby, in the gallery, with the emotional manipulation!" Theo had declared, wielding his bouillabaisse spoon like a gavel.

But Luigi had watched you through it all — the way your hand shook slightly when pouring wine, how your laugh got a little too loud to be genuine, and how you'd spent three hours making a perfect French dessert like your life depended on proving you weren't falling apart.

"We all did." Luigi reminds you, his voice gentle but firm. "Christ, we turned it into dinner theater. Remember how Anna did that dramatic interpretation of ' the unsettling collection'?" His hand finds your knee, squeezing. "And it was shit. Not only was it shit — it was cowardly. Didn't even have the spine to name you."

You tilt your head back, using the stars as gravity's help against the tears threatening to spill. The fairy lights from the wedding garden blur into little halos. "I know, but — these people, Lu." Your voice catches, and you hate how it betrays you. "They believe it. They're all walking around thinking I'm some unhinged artist who needs to be sedated and locked away from sharp objects." A laugh escapes, but it's wet and hollow. "God, I wish I'd understood what that article would do. I wish-"

But there's no point in wishing.

The damage was done with surgical precision.

They hadn't needed to use your name — everyone knew exactly whose exhibition had opened at Maxwell Gallery on August fifteenth.

Yours.

•

The hotel room feels smaller with each passing hour.

You've mastered a careful choreography — sliding past each other in the narrow spaces, maintaining precise distances on the king bed as you both pretend to watch some mindless cooking show. But sometimes, despite your best efforts, you slip. His hand brushes yours as you both reach for the room service menu, your feet touch under the shared blanket; each accidental contact sends you recoiling like a startled cat, though you used to fall asleep during movie nights without a second thought.

When your knee accidentally bumps his as you shift position, you jerk away so violently you nearly fall off the bed.

"Okay." Luigi mutes the TV, turning to face you. "We need to talk about this."

"About what?" But you know exactly what, can feel heat creeping up your neck and it makes you want to run.

"About how we used to share my twin bed during college when you crashed at my place, but now you act like my skin is fucking toxic." His voice is gentle, but there's an undercurrent of hurt that makes your core ache. "Remember that road trip to Detroit? You slept on my chest the whole way back because the car heater was broken.“ he looks desperate, grasping at the last straws of you. “I feel like we hardly look each other in the eyes now.”

You stare hard at the geometric pattern on the duvet, picking at a loose thread. "Things were different then."

"Were they?" He shifts closer, and you fight the urge to move away. "Or are you just scared they weren't?"

You get up abruptly, needing to put physical space between you and that question, the Chicago night spreading out beyond the window, a constellation of lights blurring through unshed tears; each one feels like a witness to this moment, to your cowardice.

"You know what changed," you say finally, arms crossed tight against your chest like armor. "After Maxwell, after the article, after everything became public consumption — I can't be that person anymore.”

"Why not?" His voice is closer now — he's moved to the edge of the bed, but he doesn't approach further. Giving you space while refusing to let you run.

Very classic Luigi.

A laugh escapes you, bitter and dry. "Because now everyone's watching. Waiting for the next shoe to drop. And you-“ You turn just enough to catch his reflection in the window, superimposed over the city lights. "You're too important to me, Lu.”

"So you'd rather just — what? Keep pretending?" There's frustration in his voice now, raw and real. "We both know that's not sustainable. Not when we used to-“ He trails off, and you recall the many countless nights on his cramped couch, your head on his chest, his heartbeat your lullaby to the most restful sleep you’d ever known.

"Maybe not," you admit quietly. "But it's safer than the alternative."

"Safer for who?"

The question almost knocks you off your feet.

Because he's right — this careful distance isn't protecting him. It's protecting you. From vulnerability. From the possibility of loss. From the terrifying reality that despite everything, despite all your jagged edges and dark corners, he's still here.

Still looking at you like you're something precious instead of precarious.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with all the things you're afraid to say, all the ways you're afraid to need him, and even more terrified of the way he needs you.

Eventually, you turn from the window, facing him. "It can't be simple. I won't let it be." Your voice catches. "I push and I pull and I keep everyone at arm's length until they prove me right by leaving."

Luigi stands slowly, like he's approaching a wild animal. "You've been trying so hard to make it impossible," he says softly. "Creating distance, convincing yourself I'll give up." He takes another step closer. "But loving you has always been the easiest thing I've ever done."

"Don't." The word comes out choked, your hand pressing against his chest in hopes that he’ll back away. "Don't say that when you know how complicated — how- how difficult-"

"Difficult?" He's close enough now that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, stood firm but not inching any closer. "You want to talk about difficult? Try watching you date other people. Try sitting across from you at coffee shops for years and watching you cry over them. Try fucking loving you quietly through every gallery opening, every crisis,“ his brows furrow, his nostrils flare, “you don’t get to tell me what loving you is like.”

Your breath catches as he reaches for you.

"You think you're pushing me away?" His voice is barely above a whisper, his hands finally cradling your face, tears dampening your cheeks that blaze with warmth. "I've been yours since that first night you fell asleep on my shoulder during finals week. Everything since then — it's just been waiting."

You clench your jaw, your heart a wild thing against your ribs. This tightrope you and Luigi have been walking for years — this delicate balance of almost-but-not-quite, of maybe-someday-but-not-now — has finally frayed beneath your feet. All those careful steps, those perfectly maintained distances, those nights of pretending your skin didn't burn where he almost touched you.

They’ve led you here, to this hotel room in Chicago, where the fantasy of staying safely suspended between friendship and something more has finally given way to gravity.

And what, you wonder, has Luigi seen in you to make him want to dive deeper into your chaos?

He's already witnessed the 3 AM phone calls when your mind won't quiet, the obsessive cleaning episodes that leave your hands raw and your apartment sterile. He's held you through the tears that come without warning, weathered the anger that burns hot and fast like summer lightning.

You're no manic pixie dream girl — you're the real thing, messy and unpredictable, with a heart that bleeds all over everything it touches.

He's either a storm chaser or a fool, you think.

Some hopeless beast tamer who hasn't realized that some creatures aren't meant to be gentled, that some storms leave nothing but wreckage in their wake.

But that's the thing — to Luigi, you've never been a storm to weather or a beast to tame. He doesn't look at you like you're broken machinery in need of repair, doesn't treat your edges like something to be smoothed away.

Instead, he's spent years matching your pace, stepping back when you needed space, stepping forward when you needed anchor. And now, finally, the weight of all that careful patience has brought him here — raw and honest in this dim hotel room, asking you to either meet him in this space between what you are and what you could be, or lay him to rest.

"Touch me," he says, the words falling soft but heavy in the space between you. His eyes hold yours, steady and sure, "Or let me go.”

The city lights paint his silhouette in gold and shadow, and you realize you've never seen him look so vulnerable, so stripped of the careful composure he always maintains. Your Luigi laid bare — not the patient friend, not the steady shoulder, but a man who's finally reached the end of his endurance.

"What if we break?" The question slips from your lips, small and honest, carrying all the weight of your fears that kept you at such a distance all these years — shattering to pieces, left broken by the man you’d loved the most.

Luigi's eyes soften, and something like a smile — sad and sweet and knowing — tugs at the corner of his lips. "Then we break," he says simply, his thumbs swiping away the tears that slide down your cheeks. "But I'd rather that than spend the rest of my life whole and wondering."

His hands haven’t moved. Patient, steady Luigi, who has never pushed but never fully retreated, either. Who has somehow found this perfect middle ground between staying and going, between asking and waiting.

And maybe that's what finally does it — the realization that he's offering you both beginning and end in the same breath. That he's standing here saying yes to all of it; the possibility of breaking, of shattering, of ending up with nothing but deadly carnage between you.

That he knows exactly what he's asking for, and he's asking anyway.

Your hand moves before you can think yourself out of it again, crossing the space between you like a prayer finally answered. When you cup his face, the scrape of stubble against your palm is both foreign and achingly familiar — like a song you used to know by heart, now half-remembered.

His eyes flutter closed at your touch, and you feel the slight tremor in his jaw, the way he leans into your hand like he's been starving for it.

His breath catches, shaky and soft, and when he speaks, his voice is rough with emotion. "There you are," he whispers against your palm, like he's greeting someone long lost, like you've finally come home after years away. "There you are."

His lips brush your palm once more before he lifts his gaze to yours, eyes dark with something between hope and heartache. "Tell me to pull away," he whispers, voice rough. "Tell me this isn't what you want, and I'll go. I'll understand."

But his body betrays him — the slight tremor still present in his jaw under your touch, the way he's still leaning into your hand like he can't help himself. He's offering you an exit, even now. Steady, selfless Luigi, always making sure you have a way out, even when it's killing him to do so.

And that's what breaks you finally — not his touch or his words, but this endless capacity of his to put your needs first.

To stand here offering everything he has left and the chance to walk away from it.

His hand finds your waist, fingers pressing into soft flesh with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. That small sound seems to undo something in him — his control fractures, and suddenly he's pulling you down to him with a urgency that matches your own, your hands bracing against his chest, feeling the thundering of his heart beneath your palms.

"I've thought about this," he confesses roughly, eyes locked on yours with an intensity that makes heat pool low in your stomach, his thumb tracing a burning path along your hip bone. "Having you like this.”

You can feel the tension coiled in him, the way he's still holding back despite everything. Even now, he's giving you the chance to set the pace, to decide how far this goes. But you're done with hesitation, done with the careful distance you've maintained for so long.

You lean down, letting your lips brush against his ear. "Show me," you whisper, and feel him shudder beneath you. "Show me how you wanted me."

He moves with a swiftness that steals your breath, flipping your positions in one fluid motion. Now he's the one hovering above you, his forearm braced beside your head, other hand still at your waist.

The weight of him, the heat of him so close — it makes your head spin.

"Like this," he breathes, pressing his forehead to yours. "Just like this." He holds you like you’ll run from him — just like he’s watched you run from everything before that doesn’t run from you first.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, feeling the tension there, the way he's trembling slightly despite his strength. "I'm here," you whisper back, one hand sliding up to cup his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."

[penvisions]

dev writes even more now {dave york drabble}

working title: work conduct

pairing: dave york x coworker! reader

summary: you're just his coworker, so why does he feel compelled to unravel all your secrets?

word count: 1k<

a/n: in honor of being told my writing is terrible and i need to stop pushing an 'agenda' here's a little thing i wrote to get out of my head. this is a new character for me, but i'm proud of the vibes i captured here.

-> navigation

He's good at reading people. Figuring out who they are in the spaces where words and titles can't fill. The habits they exhibit when they first get into the office for the morning, whether they immediately go to the breakroom to start a coffee or exchange morning pleasantries with coworkers. the habits they exhibit in the afternoons when the work day is done, if they linger about talking to the same people as in the morning or if they quickly pack up their stuff and rush off to their cars in the parking garage.

But for the life of him, Dave York cannot get a read on you.

You're not...fake, per se. But he sees the way your smile drops when you turn away from a conversation or how your voice drops an octave when you hang up a phone call. He tracks the coffee you have in the morning, the water you sip on all day long, and the diet soda you always have after lunch. He never actually witnesses you eating lunch, but he knows your energy perks up a bit after the hour you disappear for in the middle of each day.

It reminds him of how his daughters both find their high-pitched, excited voices after a good breakfast shoved into frowny faces.

The thought brings a smile to his face as he watches you press your ID badge to the sensor to be let in the door through the thick glass wall. The office is on an upper floor, blocked off from the general public that can access the building.

You look up right then, catching his eyes and the smile you give him is dazzling. He blinks, slightly taken aback by the bright expression and then your heels are clacking on the gleaming tile as you head in his direction. Just as you cross over onto the thin carpet that cushions area of cubicles, a loud snap sounds into the air.

Both your smile and leg buckle downwards at the same time.

He's moving quickly, instincts firing on the highest setting at all times. His arms circle around your waist and the thigh of leg donning the now broken shoe. He's got you tugged close to his body, dark eyes gazing down at you as the scent of your perfume wafts over him. Cirtus and rose swirls in his lungs and his fingers curl into your skin where he holds you.

"Easy now."

"Who knew a meet cute like this was on the agenda for today?" Your voice is sultry, paired with a wink that has him taken aback for the second time in as many minutes. Your nails dig into the front of his dress shirt, startling in how they catch the light and shift from what he initially thought was black to a dark, deep red.

"Gotta say, I don't think I warrant the whole 'falling at your feet' display." His voice is slightly raspy, the pitch of it reverberating deep on his chest.

"Alright, Agent York. Because that was totally planned." You huff out a breath as you begin to push off of him. Your nails sliding over the fabric that guards his middle from the smooth feel of them. It's a hobble that you do, one hand firmly gripping his shoulder as you lean down to take the broken heel off of your raised foot.

He gets more of that intoxicating scent as your hair brushes underneath his chin as you remove the other, still intact heel as well.

"Aw, hell. Looks like it's completely snapped." He watches as you inspect it with a sad tilt of your head and of course his fingers twitch to reach out and see if he could fix it for you.

to be continued...

taglist: @evolnoomym @clawdee @guiltyasdave

[kathairoette]

Hey! I love the yandere-ish puzzleshipping au, and the comic about Yugi giving Atem a collar made me love it more.

If it's okay to ask, would Yugi's other friends be aware of Atem coming back or that Yugi's acting strange? Would it result in Atem being isolated or something?

Super excited to see where the au goes (if you choose to continue it ^^)!

hehehe thank you very muchhh~ Yes! yandere-esque puzzleship with Yuugi being the yandere for once? Ugh I Love 😩 😩 I'm so happy this comic's gotten more of us who enjoy this flavor of Yuugi and Yami to come out of the woodwork (Dances with joy)

Hmm you mentioning about Yuugi's friendos gave me some ideas... If I get the time later, I'd love to draw em haha. So for now, I'll just mention what I'm not going to be drawing instead, cause I think the friendship gang feat. gramps can add an interesting dynamic to this AU!

I'd say that since this AU's big main point is Yuugi being terrible at dealing with grief, he's probably a bit more distant from his friends than he was in canon. Ofc he's still friends with them, but he's likely built up a bit of a wall that makes him seem standoffish. It's different from his "I'm being bullied" S0 quiet tho, it's clearly something tinged with grief, and since his friends want to be understanding, they back off for the first couple of weeks and just focus on making him happy.

Only... Yuugi seemingly isn't happy. At least, not in the way he used to. He can still laugh, cry, and get angry like anyone else, but there's a pervading sense of tiredness in him that worries everyone. Grandpa tries to get him help, but Yuugi rebuffs him, and since they no longer live together (Yuugi works in some game dev company and thus had to live somewhere else for commune reasons He also can't stand the idea of living in the same place where Atem once was) it's hard to make him go.

Jou and Honda are a bit more tough love about it, staging interventions and everything, but no attempt, therapy or otherwise ever seems to stick. Even Anzu, who had moved to America, tried to do some reverse-shovel talk thru their video chats to essentially guilt-trip Yuugi to take care of himself. Though that blows up in both their faces when Yuugi takes offense, and they get into a big fight about it. It takes them months to patch things up, and an actual in-person meeting later on for them to hash it out properly. Yuugi does feel guilty about being as harsh as he's been to his friends, but the void Atem left behind in his heart can't ever seem to close, no matter what he does. Jou and everyone else in turn, decide to do the "I can't tell you not to do it but I prefer to be next to you when shit hits the fan" approach, and instead just try to be there for him and support him when the tides are rough. Eventually, Yuugi just decides to accept that he probably can't ever be whole again, and sorta just coasts through life trying to enjoy it as much as he can with his friends by his side.

And then Kaiba comes to visit, with a short Egyptian man trailing behind him. And when the gang hear the news, they laugh and cry tears of joy, all while hoping to everything they know that Atem's return won't spell further hurt for their dear friend.

[cowbot-lumberjane]

Clair tears apart Sony's State of Play (Feb 2025)

Howdy! I think the triple A spheres of the gaming landscape are a fucking flat plateau of samey garbage and im here to tell YOU about all the samey garbage as well as the couple of cool looking things Sony announced for their 500-700$ console.

Lets start on a high note, shall we?

THE GOOD (or at least the inoffensive):

Darwin’s Paradox!

its one of those side scrolling narrative platformers with heavy physics, this time with a goofy twist! You play as an octopus trying to rescue another octopus from a food packing facility. Nothing crazy but it does look cute/fun. I'm sure fans of this genre will like it. Darwin reminds me of octodad in a good way so thats something. A good lookin' game.

Dreams of Another

A thoughtful looking game from PixelJunk about how nothing can exist without changing (if not destroying) something else. The game revolves around destroying your environments with guns to reconstruct the scenarios around you. This is the kind of game executives tend to go for when they wanna use "indie" as a selling point. Particularly the weirder gameplay angle and eye catching graphical style. Overall I'm curious.

Lies of P: Overture

VERY happy to see Lies of P back with a new game. New devs doing what fromsoft should stop doing by scratching the grittier fantasy action RPG itch is exactly what the genre needs. The first Lies of P was excellent, if not a bit too difficult for my tastes. I'm delighted to see it return without losing its sense of whimsy that goes along with its "dark take on a classic tale" vibe. The music in the new trailer is a massive highlight for me. Upbeat and fantastical while showing off the honestly very Bioshock world they continue to build. Quite excited for this one as a fan of action games and the previous title.

The Midnight Walk

Claymation meets first person puzzle adventure gameplay with some delightfully horrific art. Sign me up. Seems to revolve around leading and protecting a little guy with a firepot for a head. Fending off all sorts of weird clay beasties and solving puzzles to move forward on the way. Whats not to love? And before anyone says it: I dont give a fuck about Tim Burton.

Shinobi: Art of vengeance

A little while ago Sega announced that they wanted to try reviving some classic series with new games, and Shinobi was one of them. Personally I think the game LOOKS incredible. Hand drawn style games have been all the rage since Hollow Knight and Cuphead hit the scene, but looks aren't everything. My biggest concern is that itll be yet another hand drawn metroidvania. We just have way too many of those. But from what the trailer shows off, it gives me hope that itll stick much closer to its action platformer roots with fun weapons and cool combos/abilities. I'd trade endless 2D mazes for a succinct linear action platforming experience any day at this point. (Shovel Knight we need you now more than ever!)

Sonic Racing CrossWorlds

It just looks FUN, okay? Sega All Stars Racing Transformed was incredible and even if its just Sonic and the gang, I'm happy to have a new arcade racer that isnt fucking Mario Kart hitting the mainstreeam. Looks good! I don't think the graphics are overdone or too hyper realistic, all the characters and cars look great! Stages seem fun, curious about the course swapping mechanic, very excited for the lineup! Look! Jet is back! He's on his board!

Borderlands 4

(Look I said at least inoffensive) I'm a shooter girlie. I like me some good guns and baddies to blow apart with said guns, this I cannot deny. I am also (unfortunately) a long time Borderlands fan. I thought 3 was, okay. The writing was atrocious in almost every regard, I hope Randy Pitchford fucking dies, and the OVERWHELMING amount of meme and "lol modern!" humor in it was terrible. The shooting, at least, was very fun. I liked a lot about 3 despite my gripes, enough to be excited for a game that can move past 3's dogshit villains and burdensome reliance on memeyness. At least I hope it can... I appreciate how the art style has been preserved despite the newer graphics, though I do think theyve lost a little bit of the cartoonish style that the first 3 games had. I'm (tentatively) excited.

THE NEBULOUS (things I don't really care about):

Dave the Diver: Ichiban's Holiday

I didn't play Dave. I don't like DLC as a concept. I think it looks fine. If you liked Dave, I'm sure you'll like it. I appreciate Dave giving a fat king some time in the spotlight.

Metal Gear Solid Delta: Snake Eater

Remakes are already a tiresome thing at this point. MGS3 didn't NEED a remake, none of them need remakes. They need PORTS. It looks fine. Its whatever. Im sure Kojima doesn't care about it one way or the other, and neither do I. Its just gonna be another remake that a bunch of white guys online make videos titled "THE DEFINITIVE WAY TO PLAY MGS3 IS HERE" about.

Monster Hunter Wilds

Looks great running on a PS5 pro doesn't it :) I'm not gonna care about this game until its patched to hell and actually runs on PC. Sick of unoptimized garbage from triple A studios. Looks fun in theory, two betas later, I'm not paying 70$ for this and you shouldn't either.

Stellar Blade DLC

Warriors: Abyss

Day's Gone Remastered

Terrible terrible terrible.

Digimon Time Stranger

I'm actually like, KIND OF interested in this? I've been meaning to get back into Digimon but have trouble knowing how or where to start. People say the digimon games are good, I have no experience with them. looks like Digimon!

THE BAD (AKA: STOP MAKING GAMES THAT LOOK LIKE THIS I BEG OF YOU)

Directive 8020

Can we stop trying to be David Cage? These boring ass "playable movie" games suck so bad. Until Dawn was bad (for several reasons) and everything that followed is just new age David Cage trash. Stop it. Bland visual style, bland writing, bland bland bland.

Five Nights At Freddy’s: Secret of the Mimic

(I'm not putting a screenshot of this one)

Scott Cawthon is a piece of shit who donated multiple time to Donald Trump's campaign fund as well as anti LGBTQIA charities. Stop giving this shit heel money.

Hell Is Us

Actually, hell is yet another sci-fi fantasy 3rd person action game with neon particle effects and a hyper realistic art style. This is nothing to me.

Onimushia: Way of the Sword

Remember when Onimusha had colour and interesting style? Yeah....yeah me too..... It looks like mud

Onimusha 2: Samurai’s Destiny

HEY GUYS DONT LOOK AT THE NEW ONE THAT LOOKS LIKE GAMER GOOP LOOK AT THIS WE'RE REMASTERING THE OLD ONE! LOOK! 40$ PLEASE!

Split Fiction:

Erm, he's standing right behind me, isn't he? Marvel movie ass game.

Tides of Annihilation

Tired of games that look like this yet? Yeah, yeah, yeah me too. Its another dark fantasy 3rd person action game. And. yeah, she has abilities.

MindsEye

We REALLY like tech demos.

Metal Eden

Eeeeeveryone wants to make a DOOM (2016) but no one wants to make satisfying looking gunplay. Gameplay looks loose/light/weak. Its got that Guardians of the Galaxy/Concord/Cyberpunk 2077 sci-fi art style that everything has now. Does nothing for me. Looks boring.

Saros

Looks as bad as the new Dune movies. They show 0 gameplay, but it looks like eeeeverything else.

Lost Soul Aside

IDK what else to say, dog. It looks the same as everything else! Its little to no style! Its got no flavour! Weird black shapes moving around to form dragons because we have the TECHNOLOGY to make those weird little shapes look really good! It sounds and looks like the last 2 Final Fantasy games. Main character's design looks like a straight romance book protag. C-. Try harder.

And thats it! overall: Kinda bad! Go find your new favourite game on itch.io today!

[mybg3notebook]

Does Gale love Mystra?

So far in EA, we have been shown that this is complicated to answer: human love is complex as well as the delirious lore of Forgotten Realms. 

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were written up to the game version v4.1.104.3536 (Early access). As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information. Written in June 2021.

The number between brackets [] represents the topic-block related to (this post), which gathers as much evidence as I could get.

The narrative is clear until the party scene which, as I stated many times across these posts, it's a scene that feels a bit inconsistent for me (reasonable since it's EA). But if we follow what the game explicitly shows us, we know that if we send Gale to sleep at the beginning of the Weave scene in which he is watching the incantation with the shape of Mystra, he will say: 

Gale: Long days, yes. And long, lonesome nights.

If Tav knows that the incantation on his palm is Mystra, Gale will explain:

Tav: [insight] You don't have that look on your face when you're looking at “no one” / There's more to it than that. The figure I saw: she means something to you. Gale: [...] I can’t quite describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her – to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence. [...]

Dev's notes: Passionate. [...] He was recalling Mystra as a lover, but doesn’t say that out loud. [...] Narrator: The Weave evaporates, and as it does so, you realise the night feels suddenly cold and lonesome.

This allows us to infer that, at this moment, Gale is feeling alone and probably very anxious with the oppressing feeling of the "orb" in his chest. The tadpole only increased the number of problems he has, so he resorts to seeing Mystra melancholically. We notice later in the Weave Scene that not having Mystra around increases this feeling of loneliness. The whole scene seems to give us the idea that he still loves her. There is yearning and loneliness in his current situation.

After a moment of passionate description of magic, Gale invites Tav to experience the Weave. The Weave has a particular effect on Gale: "The moment feels intimate. You realise the Weave is making you one." Considering how Gale was feeling while conjuring the incantation, this moment touched him deeply (the narrator implies that this feeling is mutual).

If Tav expresses their romantic interests, Gale will be surprised:

Gale: I.. I didn’t think.. Narrator: You perceive quick-fire gusts of embarrassment, trepidation, and finally.. elation Gale: Sorry, I wasn’t expecting… But it is a pleasant image to be sure! Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome. Dev's notes: Warm, with real affection.

The narrator is giving us meta-knowledge, we can trust in what she says, and we can see that the situation was truly shocking for Gale. These emotional stages described here made me suspect that Gale is a character who has focused for too long on healing his condition, ignoring any chance for romance. His surprise here may confirm that, in my opinion. He feels embarrassment, a feeling that one can interpret as a sign of the surprise of being thrown into a situation he had not seen beforehand (the death protocol and Gale’s conversations show us that he is a character that thinks ahead). It follows trepidation: fear or anxiety about something that he is going to do or experience. Gale is scared of the possibility. Maybe because he is thinking in the danger he is, maybe because he was already burnt by Mystra's attention and having someone else's attention now makes him feel a bit anxious. And then, the final resolution of the process: elation, which is a feeling of great happiness and excitement about something that has happened. Gale is suddenly excited by the possibility. Something he will be thinking about, many times, for the rest of the EA. 

Tav: So what did you think about what I pictured when we were connected by the Weave? Gale: Oh, I was surprised. But pleasantly so, just like I said. Amid the madness that has befallen us, it seems almost out of place to think of a kiss/ of a romantic walk. And yet... now more than ever, it's important to recall what makes us human. [if Tav is not human] Well- you know what I mean. A stolen glance- that sudden heartbeat... Sometimes the little things are worth more than kingdoms. They promise things to come.

So romance was not something he had even considered until the opportunity arose (this is why he won't pursue a Tav who didn't show romantic interest towards him). I think that, since he is a character always living on the edge of death, he will take this opportunity to feel “human again”: after all, he follows the concept of "living life to the fullest".

During the Loss (see the post of the "Loss Scene"), we know that losing Mystra was a big blow for him. He regrets his decisions of the past in this scene, and it reinforced the idea that he is the only one to blame for Mystra's loss. There is a yearning for the lost Chosen powers, but Gale's context in the majority of his scenes seem to reinforce the idea that he sought power not as a means, but as a goal itself to be closer to Mystra and Magic. Since we are talking about a wizard, his passion lies in magic itself, in being one with the Weave/Magic/Mystra. A Chosen of Mystra is so entangled with the Weave and magic that when they die, they are part of the Weave itself. This is the level of passion that Gale has for Magic, and since Magic can only be performed by most mortals via Weave, and the Weave is Mystra, the whole three concepts are, in fact, one; and it makes it very difficult from a lore point of view to separate them. 

Tav: There's something I don't understand. If Mystra abandoned you, how can you still cast magic? Gale: The Weave is still here, all around us – inside of us too. As long as the goddess lives, magic is a tangible thing for those who know how to touch. I've studied magic for many years, and in as many ways I am still a more than capable wizard. It's just that I'm no longer able to perform those feats even arch wizards would marvel at. To have one hand on the pulse of divinity. You have to remember that the Weave is a living thing, both the embodiment and the extension of Mystra herself.She can give and she can take away. I'm afraid I'm still very much on her naughty list. Consider yourself lucky you're not. 

I personally think Gale will never stop being devoted to Mystra (and won't stop loving her in many ways), because his passion for magic and knowledge is his own life, and Mystra IS those things. He loves magic for the sake of it. So losing this unique contact with magic itself that only Chosen of Mystra have was a terrible punishment for him. His abandonment issues are not just the result of a “guy being left by a girl”. They have an extra complexity because of the nature of Magic in this world and how its deity behaves with her chosen. Gale was not only abandoned by Mystra, but was also removed of a good amount of his capacity to perform magic. If magic “is his life”, the abandonment removed a part of his life away. I think some people miss this point, because, once more, it's related to Forgotten Realm lore and not Dragon Age. Many of these people keep constantly comparing this situation with Dragon Age, which has nothing to do with it. Dragon Age has no wizards, their relationship with Magic is natural, it’s sorcerer-like if we want to compare it, and the relationship with their deities (mostly absent, silent ones) are nothing alike the ones in Forgotten Realm. The context is key, as I repeated several times in these posts and in the one about "Context, persuasion, and manipulation". 

Tav: I don't know what to make of what you've told me, but I sympathise. Gale: Thank you. [no romantic weave] I want you to know that you’re a good friend. [romantic weave] I often think of that moment we shared together – one under the Weave. I hope you think about it too. /I'm glad to know you think about it too.

Narrator: You sense a moment of unspoken affection. You want to know where it may lead. Gale: I consider myself very lucky to have found you Tav: I think perhaps we could be more than friends Gale: Perhaps. 

Tav: You said you think about the moment we shared under the weave. Do you think about it often? Gale: Do you? 1-2-Tav: Yes / From time to time. Gale: So do I. 3- Tav: Not really. Gale: And yet you ask. I do, as a matter of fact.

Gale: You see. I'm not a big believer in fate, but I do believe in serendipity. Life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes embrace. You're one such event that one day soon perhaps I'd like to embrace.

So after sharing this regret during the Loss scene, Gale will show affection if Tav remains friendly during the Weave (but Gale will never directly engage it, he is waiting for Tav to give the first step; understandable if we consider he also has a dangerous bomb in his chest, so he may be torn between wanting to, but knowing he should not to). If there is no interest in pursuing romance, he will show a gesture of gratitude for being a good friend during that night of regrets. 

If pursuing the romance, we can interpret that Gale, at this point, even though he is still struggling with all the emotions that Mystra inspires, wants to experience something more “human”, a romance with a mortal. We know for sure that Gale is getting interested, slowly, while thinking about it, since in each of the following scenes he will ask (or Tav will ask) about that “moment in the Weave”. He has been thinking about it for many nights, and he is “embracing” the idea. 

If Gale is treated with judgement (despite not knowing his whole story) or allowing him to keep the secret of what or who he lost, we will obtain lines likes:

Gale: Good. Goodnight. And thank you for your patient understanding. // And try not to think too poorly of me. A cat can look at a king. A wizard can look at a goddess.

Tav: Another fool pays for his arrogance. A tale as old as time. Gale: Arrogance? Ambition, rather. And ambition is a fine thing – until suddenly it no longer is. Then again, if that is how you judge me, there’s little I can do to change your mind. But know that I have this ambition still. First to save myself, and after that, the licence to dream. (Gale Disapproval)

We could interpret these lines as the only ones so far that may suggest that Gale is still wanting something from the goddess. We know due to the tadpole dreams that Gale’s desire is Mystra. On the comments of the second tadpole dream we know more details about his major desire: it is not just Mystra, but her forgiveness.

Tav: Gale, who is the apparition in your dreams? Gale: She's... It doesn't matter. I just know her to be unreal. Tav: What's impossible about what you're been shown? Gale: Forgiveness Tav: Gale, who is the apparition in your dreams? Gale: It's indeed Mystra I see. And yet it cannot be her. There was a time when I would have believed - but no longer. I told you that I lost her. Lost her favour and lost so many of the powers I took for granted. What magic I can still weave is met only with undercurrents of disappointing silence. Mystra has not changed her mind about me. That's how I know our dreams are delusions.

I think this scene shows the difference between a standard desire for power as a means, and power for the sake of power itself (since this power allows Gale to be one with the Weave). The scene is ambiguous enough to see it as Gale wanting to return to Mystra’s side as well as remaining as an ardent devotee of her (because she is magic herself). I keep repeating that these scenes show that Gale’s most important thing in his life is Magic, which is Mystra: the extension and the embodiment of magic. So his desire for her seems impossible to be extinguished completely. In previous scenes we saw that he certainly had thought through the idea of loving her more like a devotee than a lover, but certainly the weight of being his first love will remain, especially since she is deeply related to magic itself.

During the Party Scene we find some information about his feelings for Mystra. 

I personally ponder the book of Amn’s description as very important because, from a narrative point of view, it's a lot of lines/content that, if they were not important, tend to be removed from the script. If they are there, they are meant to be interpreted. For this reason those lines mean to me that Gale has finally embraced the idea of having something important with a mortal. In my post of the "Party Scene" I go into details, but here I will stick to the interpretation related to Mystra: all what Gale numerates in that book are things that he could not access to with a Goddess. Curiously, part of those descriptions are things that make humans human, so I personally think it reinforces Gale's intention in heading into this romance with the eagerness of finding some shelter (never forget the “orb” has a constant oppressing effect in him, increasing his anxiety and fears) and to experience (maybe for the first time) the love of a mortal.

So, for some assumptions made in the post of the "Party Scene", we suspect that Gale needs to share a night to feel confident enough to speak the details of his “orb” condition. Since he wants this relationship to be strong (after all, he implied commitment during the description of the book) he speaks about the true origin of the “orb” immediately after that night, starting with Mystra (which is, after all, the true origin of his folly). Depending on the version that Tav picks, we have extra information provided by Gale about his emotions for the Goddess:

Tav: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. [...] One day all too soon, the whispers stopped. The goddess spurned the mortal. [...] and the wizard was left behind heartbroken. Tav: I hate to say it, but he really could have seen this coming Gale: He was blinded by love. Good stories are rife with lovers’ follies after all.

[Short Version] Gale: Before long Mystra tired of me. What was I after all but a mortal plaything in sacred hands? You have to realise I was heartbroken. I was a young man, she was my first love. I thought it would last forever. I vowed to win her back.

[after explaining the mistake of the “orb”] Gale: It is this folly that led Mystra to abandon me completely. I can only hope you won’t abandon me as well. After all we’ve been through.. After the night we spent together. Surely we can brave even this side by side

Gale is giving a very detailed context about his love for Mystra: she was his first love, and the first love tends to have a special weight in a person's life and their memories. That doesn't mean the person has become unable to build more relationships for the rest of their life. If we add the fact that he was very young when all this happened (more details in the Post "Gale Hypotheses- Part 1") we find him under two effects: the impression of the first love and the naivety of the youth. Both elements made him believe it was a love that was going to last forever. With a Goddess, no less.

Besides, Gale expresses this, highlighting his naivety and foolishness: he is aware of how silly he was back then, and how impossible it could be for a mortal to keep the love of a goddess. He is a pragmatic and realistic character, after all. He recognizes in the end that he was just a mortal plaything for her. 

I think these pieces of information give us a very clear context of his emotional state: he is still nostalgic for Mystra because of all the reasons I enumerated above; she is also more than just a woman, she is Magic itself. But he is aware that those emotions were the consequence of a very naïve and young self that has awakened by the burden of his own mistakes. There is also a reinforcement of “forever”, which recalls the concept of commitment that Gale pursues so much in his romance: he is not there just for the sex “intimacy”, he is there for serious commitment, maybe because he doesn't want to experience another abandonment. After all, we are talking about a character with a profile that shows abandonment issues (see the post of "Gale Hypotheses- Part 1", section: "Abandonment Issues")

[If rejected] Tav: No. This is too large a betrayal. GALE: I see. I am sorry. I am sorry that it had to come to this. All that’s left to say is farewell. Dev’s notes: hurt but understanding Gale: Farewell. (Leaves) Dev’s notes: A slight hesitation, hurt but understanding. He makes a polite little bow, then we see him walk away.

[If accepted] Gale: I don’t know what I did to deserve the magic that you do. 

Despite being terribly cheesy, this last line shows that Gale was more than convinced that Tav would abandon him because he doesn’t deserve Tav. This is why he doesn't put up much fight if Tav chooses to tell him to leave. He will try to make Tav listen to his story, and once it's done, the verdict will fall and he will accept it. He learnt his lesson with Mystra. This line also shows how everything important around Gale is or has to be worded with magic, even a silly metaphor like this is related with the word “magic”: Tav's acceptance is like magic. For him, as important and good as magic itself.

As if that were not enough, after the scene there is a comment in which Gale will reinforce his gratitude for Tav's acceptance:

Tav: If you ever feel the netherese magic overtaking you, what will you do? Gale: If it should ever come to that... if I ever know I am no longer able to stop it... I will do anything I can to ensure no one but me pays for my mistakes. I will find the remotest place on the surface of Faerûn, or perhaps far below in the depths of the Underdark. I will await that death alone. [*] I promise I will not betray your trust... You kept me by your side despite the menace that I am. If worst comes to worst, I will be gone long before the curtain falls.  [*] If romanced, Gale will say here "I cherish you."

Which makes me suspect that Gale can disappear at any moment (in full game) if for some game mechanics we are unable to get magical artefacts but the deal with Raphael did not happen (if that’s even possible). But that's just me speculating. Nothing in EA seems to suggest this. What i's clear is that acceptance—that strong concept in the book he put so much emphasis on—is really important to him, so he shows gratitude for that: he promises to protect Tav (and many innocents) from his own mistake. He also says pretty soon an equivalent of “I love you”, in a more formal/meaningful way: “to cherish” is not just to love, but to care/protect as well. 

Finally, in case someone lost those hints, or maybe as a consequence of this unpolished scene, we have a direct question with a direct answer:

Tav: Gale, are you still in love with Mystra? Gale: I’ll be honest with you; I don’t know. She is my muse still, the embodiment of magic, but the embodiment of love? Only if we ever meet again will I know

Gale simply says what we have been inferring so far with all the previous information: Gale reinforces the idea that he will remain as a strong, loving devotee of Mystra, because she is magic. I personally don't even consider it possible to remove that love from him. He may not be a cleric, but he loves his deity as one. But he also learnt his lesson that loving gods has its own dire consequences for mortals. He is very aware of it during the discussion about Karsus:

Tav: Nothing good ever comes from mortals wanting to be gods. 

Gale: Loving them has its side effects as well. Now, so many centuries later, I tried to follow in the footsteps of Karsus, not to destroy Mystra, but to prove my love for her. It tried to control only a fraction of the magic that was unleashed that fateful day. I merely sought to return one tiny diamond to an imperfect crown. Gale's Folly one might call it. History. Repetition. It's the way things go.

Once more, there is no scene where Gale doesn't reinforce that what he did was a mistake, a foolish action, a Folly. 

Finally, if talking about a previous lover immediately after awakening with a new one was of poor taste, Gale acknowledges this, giving an honest apology:

Gale: Before we go on though, do first let me apologise. To share such a night with you only to tell you of a previous lover the next morning... It wasn't the most gentleman-like behaviour. But I had to finally tell you. Silence would have been far worse behaviour still. Nevertheless, I am sorry.

He accepts any rude response or lash-out from Tav without approval penalties. This is an interesting meta-knowledge that speaks about owning up to his mistakes. Unlike the Loss scene, where rude responses made Gale disapprove because Tav was judging him without knowing the whole story [16], in this scene he doesn’t. Now Tav has the whole picture, and he accepts whatever reaction Tav shows. Of course he will approve a forgiving Tav, since Gale is a character very related to forgiveness [12, 12b].

Conclusion: 

So, answering the question that gives title to this section: yes. In my opinion, Gale loves Mystra. But it’s not a white-and-black love; it has the complexity of human love mixed with this crazy lore of deities in Forgotten Realms. I believe Mystra will always be part of Gale's life, because the Weave and magic are his life, and she is both. He will always love her as a devotee, even though he now understands the mistakes of his young self and seems more aware of how naive he was when he was a “very young man”. The comments on the second tadpole dreams explicitly show that what Gale wants the most is Mystra’s forgiveness, but at the same time, he knows that he does not deserve it. And this raw realistic view of himself is what makes him understand that those dreams are illusions. During the party scene he is uncertain about his emotions, but still he emphasises that there is a big chance for him to not see Mystra as the embodiment of love any more but reinforces that she will always be the embodiment of magic to him (a very important concept in his character design). 

Whether Gale is romanced or not, I don't see a difference in the information he shares on this matter in EA.

This post was written in June 2021. → For more Gale: Analysis Series Index

[once-and-future-princess]

Liveblogging Arthuriana: The Lai of Launval by Marie de France

So I've been trying to read as much Arthuriana as I can and I definitely go on binges. And previously I've been posting my thoughts when I was done, but I thought, what if for this one, I just sort of made a post and added to it as I go? So by the time I post it I'm done with the story, but this'll prevent me from forgetting to much. So here we go, with the Lai of Launval

First of all, I'm excited that this story is (ostensibly) written by a woman. I wonder if that'll affect anything?

I've also heard this one is kinda gay. But I've also heard the gay comes from misogyny. You know, when you hate women so hard it loops around and becomes homoerotic? But maybe this isn't the one I'm thinking of. Either way, I study ancient Greece, so that doesn't really bother me

Just in the first paragraph I feel bad for Launval, everyone gets gifts and he doesn't. I'm such a BBC Merlin fan, I often imagine King Arthur as Bradley James, and like....that's something his Arthur would do. Like forget this one dude because....idk oops, and then it turns into a big thing. But everything turns into a big thing in Arthuriana.

I love this guy's gift from the random naked lady lying in a tent: not only does he have all the gold he needs, but the more he spends the more he has. Count this down for how to become rich without a genie fucking you up if you get three wishes

Do knights just go around sleeping with random women? Like a lot of them just....do. sometimes it's a bad thing.

Aaaaaaand Gawain is here. It's literally inevitable. It's just not an Arthur story till he makes a cameo. It's like X-Men without wolverine. I also tend to imagine Gawain as Eoin Macken. Dev Patel is wonderful and all, but he doesn't have that "I fucked/fought my way into this and I'll fuck/fight my way out" energy Eoin Macken has.

Guinevere, darling, no means no. Don't you have a nice Launcelot to flirt with?

Also, from a note is says that the word for the relationship Guinevere is offering in the original french implies a physical relationship, and also a relationship where the woman had power over the man. So Gwen is inviting him to be her sugar baby?

Okay I see the Lysistrata problem here. To the medieval eye Gwen's behavior is the "women are lustful" trope, and her vengefulness and anger is a negative trait. To the modern eye she definitely appears a little over the top, and femme fatale, don't get me wrong, but I'm also here for a queen just hitting on a knight and asking him to be in an FLR with her. Like, I'm here for that.

....okay but Launval I know she's coming on strong but maybe we shouldn't INSULT THE QUEEN???

Oh yep, she called him gay. Again, huge insult in medieval times. Modern eye sees it as sort of Gwen being a Nice Guy and saying "if you don't want to sleep with me you must be gay." Which...not here for. But funny.

I'm starting to see how people talk about the later charecterisation of Guinevere as a seductress and a terrible person. Not here for that. Love for Guinevere.

Yeah, and now she's lying about it and said he came on to her.

Okay so no one's concerned that he hit on the queen, and that his defense for that is she hit on him first? Like if we have to get upset about this stupid thing, shouldn't that be what we're concerned about? But no, they're just concerned about weather this woman is hotter than her. Camelot priorities aren't your Earth priorities.

But I guess it's like lese-majeste or something. To insult the queen.

But yeah, this is not about weather he went all nice guy on the queen or weather she went nice guy on him. Or even the morality of her wanting to sleep with him (she's married!) Or him with her. It's just IS THIS WOMAN HOTTER THAN THE QUEEN.

It's one of those truth obsession things. If she IS more beautiful he did nothing wrong.

The more you read of Arthurian lit the more it makes sense when you turn your medieval brain on. But. Modern eye still like ....this is so odd. This is why Camelot is a silly place.

This is another place to make the joke "if these tits are legit, you must acquit."

Hey yvains here! I love Yvain! I always imagine him just ...with a lion. Like he's sitting there at court and there's just a vaguely anthropomorphic lion next to him. Sometimes it has its own seat. Like a Scooby Doo lion.

Yep she basically says "if these tits are legit you must acquit." But she also does clear his name for being the one doing the hitting on.

And then they fuck off to Avalon to live happily ever after. Cool. Also the translation I read used the phrase "she ravished him". Which....very here for the sugar mama.

So that's it! That was short and sweet and easy to just get another fun story under your belt! These lais are pretty short. I might try a few more.

[hermannsthumb]

If you're still taking requests!! Fake Dating situation where Newt and Hermann go to a public event together. they're used to being mistaken for a couple at the Shatterdome, so they expect to be mistaken for a couple at the event. But then they meet someone who definitely Does Not mistake them for a couple (because homophobia) and assumes they're just Very Good Friends. cue Newt and Hermann aggressively pretending to be a couple.

always and forever taking requests!!! this is such a fun one, THANK YOU

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

“We’ll have to go in eventually,” Newt says.

Next to him, Hermann silently fumes, apparently unable to decide whether to continue tugging at his stiff collar or grinding the bottom of his cane—over and over, in a sort of circle—against the sidewalk, leaving streaks of black rubber behind. “I hate these damn things,” he says under his breath, though it’s unclear whether he means his outfit or the event. Hermann’s dressed up tonight in a suit that’s hilariously oversized (even for him) and fraying in places, with a bowtie that he’s knotted crookedly. Newt wonders if the suit’s a hand-me-down from his brother. “Begging for funding, as if we haven’t anything better to do with our time. As if we’re not working for the better of all of them. It’s bloody degrading.” He works his jaw angrily. “And if that isn’t enough—everyone always makes—assumptions—about us.”

Oh, okay. The event. “Assumptions?” Newt says.

Hermann lets out a hiss of air between his teeth. “Assumptions,” he repeats, delicately. “About—ah—the certain nature of our relationship.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Oh.”

At the last one of these things they went to, someone (actually generous enough to open their checkbook for once) asked Hermann whether they should make it out to the PPDC or Dr. Gottlieb and his husband. At the one before that, a dinner event, the name placards at their table said Dr. Newton Geiszler-Gottlieb and Dr. Hermann Geiszler-Gottlieb. Before that, at a more casual affair at an up-scale bar, some tech hottie sent Newt a martini, before hurrying over and apologizing in person that (gesturing between Newt and Hermann) he didn’t realize Newt was with someone. Newt really wishes Hermann would just get it through his head already that introducing someone as your partner and dropping the important research part of it tends to hold drastically different connotations outside of, like, the group of people who know them on the Shatterdome base, because that would clear up probably sixty percent of the confusion. If not just so he can pick up a few numbers at these things for once. Still, though—for some reason it’s never really bothered him like it clearly bothers Hermann, but Newt supposes he’s not exactly a catch by any standards, so it makes sense. “I just don’t know where they get the impression—” Hermann begins, and Newt interrupts him.

“Yeah, well, you should take it as a compliment,” he says. “You could do a lot worse than me.” He opens the door for Hermann and ushers him in. “Seriously, we’ll be late if we don’t go in now, and that makes it, like, twice as awkward.”

As usual, they have to sit through some incredibly boring speech about how they’re sitting among some of the best scientific minds of the century right now, how they’re honored to play host to their colleagues at the PPDC, how the buffet will opening shortly for dinner, and then a different person gets up and makes another speech, and then another person with another, until finally the first person gets back up and promises that closing remarks will be in three hours, and how they should all enjoy themselves until then. Claps. Under his breath, Newt says to Hermann, “Doubt it.”

“Which side shall I take, then?” Hermann sighs. He’s probably the only one in the room not clapping. He told Newt a while ago that he doesn’t like to put on airs, and especially not in the service of flattering someone’s ego, and he’ll only clap for a speech if he feels it deserves it. He’s such a weirdo.

Newt surveys the room, considering. Luckily, people tend to flock together in similar little groups at these things. Birds of a feather shit. “Left. Everyone on the right is too young and hip-looking, so that’s out of your range.” He gets a cane to his shin, and grins even has he winces. “Kidding. Let’s just do it together, it’ll make it more bearable.”

Their first target is a forty-something marine biologist who’s very excited to meet Newt— “I followed your research on jellyfish for years!” she says. “I had no idea you’d be here tonight!” —and who is more than happy to promise donating a little to help fund the war effort. Their next is someone younger than both of them, whom Newt suspects is heir to his dad’s tech company or something, and who is easily guilted into promising even more than the biologist. “We’re having a lot better luck than usual,” Newt says, as they watch the kid hurry away to mingle with a group of other twenty-somethings. “Do we look more, like, respectable tonight or something?”

“It’s the open bar,” Hermann says.

“Yeah, probably,” Newt agrees.

“And anyway, we’re still terribly behind on our goal, so there’s no use getting too pleased over ourselves,” Hermann says. He sniffs. “If you still want that bloody—whatever it was—kaiju spleen, we need at least—”

“Okay, okay,” Newt says.

He nods at a small group standing by one of the buffet tables, holding half-eaten plates. People tend to be in better moods when they’ve eaten something. Hopefully more generous moods too. “Let’s try them,” he says.

Hermann is the one to initiate the conversation this time, launching at once into a variation of the little script he and Newt penned so long ago the night before their very first gala. “Good evening,” he says. They get a few polite smiles and nods of acknowledgement in return. “I’m Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, and this is my partner—” Newt tries not to groan. “—Dr. Newton Geiszler. We’re here representing the PPDC tonight. I don’t suppose we could have a moment of your time?”

The mood of the group changes immediately, but why Newt can’t figure out; it’s like they suddenly go hostile on them. Hostile, and tense. Newt is suddenly astutely aware of how each of the three dudes have a good few inches on both him and Hermann. “The PPDC?” the guy in front says. He's not smiling anymore. Maybe they all supported the jaeger program defunding or something. “Sure.”

“Er,” Hermann says. He clears his throat. “Newton—that is, my partner and I work for the kaiju research division at the PPDC’s Hong Kong base. As you may well be aware, the latest cuts to the PPDC’s budget have been quite dev—”

“So you and your friend,” the guy says, with a little more emphasis on the friend than Newt would like, “are going around asking for donations? To help buy pencils or something?”

“Well. Essentially,” Hermann says. He doesn’t seem to have picked up on what Newt did, though he grows visibly nervous anyway. Outright hostility isn't anywhere near as common as indifference at these sorts of things. “Though, pencils is—er—a vast understatement.” He casts a furtive, desperate glance at Newt—a help me if Newt ever saw one. “My partner—Dr. Geiszler—simply doesn’t have enough funding for the samples he needs to study—and donations would certainly help with our funding for other necessary supplies—"

“I sure we’d love to help you and your friend,” the same guy says, and there’s no missing the emphasis this time, “but we’re a little busy at the moment. Please come back and talk to us later, though.”

Hermann clamps his mouth shut. Newt narrows his eyes, and in a move bold enough to surprise even himself, snags Hermann’s arm and links his own with it. “Sure thing,” he says loudly. Hermann goes rigid and stiff under him. “Come on, babe, let’s get something to eat. I know how you get when you’re hungry.” Then, before he can stop himself, he brushes a single kiss at Hermann’s cheek, and tries not to laugh at the looks they get.

He waits until they’re out of eyesight (Newt having had to sort of drag Hermann along with him) to drop Hermann’s arm. Hermann hasn’t moved a muscle since Newt touched him, and even now, he just sort of blinks at Newt. “What on Earth—?”

“Dude,” Newt says. “That guy was a total jerk. He thought we were together, and—”

“He did not,” Hermann says. “He kept calling you my ‘friend’. It was a bloody nice break from what usually happens, I might add, and now you’ve gone and—”

“Hermann,” Newt says. He sighs. “You’re, like, totally missing my point. He thought we were together.”

“But he called you—”

“Yeah, exactly,” Newt says.

Hermann blinks a few more times. “Ah,” he says.

“No way in hell do we need his money,” Newt says. “Anyway, sorry about the—” He touches Hermann’s cheek, and then gestures to Hermann’s left arm, which is now just sort of hanging limply at Hermann’s side. “I just wanted to screw with him. I won’t do it again, though—”

“No!” Hermann says quickly. The tips of his ears go red, and he fumbles as he grabs Newt’s arm again. A sudden warmth situates itself like pressure over Newt’s chest, identical to the kind that’s creeping up his wrist where Hermann’s fingers just grazed his bare skin, and he’s struck with the sudden bizarre urge to duck his head and blush himself. Since when has Hermann had this kind of effect on him? “What I meant to say is—” Hermann licks his wide lips. “He might still see us. We ought to—to keep up the ruse.”

“To really screw with him?” Newt says.

“For what other reason?” Hermann says.

Newt forces himself to keep a smooth, neutral expression as Hermann unwinds his arm to lace their fingers together instead, with a lot more awkward fumbling. “Uh-huh,” he says. He remembers how soft and smooth Hermann’s cheek had felt, so unlike his own, which can never seem to hold a clean shave. How nice Hermann's hand feels in his now. He’s definitely going to have to unpack this later. “Yeah, that’s—good idea, Hermann. Let’s do that.”

[evajellion]

2020 vidya ranking: #1 Bug Fables The Everlasting Sapling

You already knew that I was going to tell you that this was the best game I had played last year.

Imo, this should have been indie GOTY back in 2019, but whatever, I guess I should explain why I ranked this one at the top.

Back in 2004, Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door was released. I had sadly missed out on getting the original game on the Nintendo 64, but I was nonetheless very excited for the sequel. I got the game, still have my copy even years later… aaaand I got confused in Rogueport Sewers because I was a dumb eight year old, but I swear I picked up the game a second time. Got through all of the chapters, and had fallen in love with the game.

I loved the characters, the battle system, the story, the chapter progression, the cooking system, even the hidden lore and the amount of side quest scattered throughout the game. I even cried. It was the first time I had cried over a video game.

I wanted more, but then, Nintendo didn’t do it again. Sure, Super Paper Mario had a fantastic story, and a lot of people treasure that game the way I do TTYD-- I wouldn’t even mind if the series stayed in that direction. After that though?

Well, Sticker Star happened and stripped away all of the things I loved. Two similar games and one spin-off followed after that. Needless to say, me and several other fans of 64, TTYD, and Super weren’t happy about it. Seemed like I would never get another game like the one that was so dear to me ever again.

Cue me finding Arlo’s video about a cute little game called Bug Fables, just around the summer time. It had come out in 2019 and had been in development for some time by an indie studio. I was skeptic, but at this point I wanted anything-- besides, I actually love insects.

And after the first two chapters, which were a bit bland, I found it. I found the game I had been looking for. I was so afraid that this would be another Mighty No. 9 or Yooka-Laylee, but Bug Fables was anything but. Sure, it took inspiration from Paper Mario with its gameplay structure, but saying that this game is “just Paper Mario” doesn’t do it justice, because game can stand tall on its own.

I loved just about everything here in the same way I loved TTYD. Characters (except for two), the battle system, the story, the chapter progression, the cooking system, the hidden lore and the amount of side quest-- and there was even more than that.

“Gee what did Bug Fables have that Paper Mario didn’t?”

More than one super boss

A card game

Three party members in battle at a time

An entire side quest chapter that you can miss

An in-game randomizer

Higher difficulty settings

FREE DLC

Actual quality of life improvements

And finally, a villain who doesn’t just get a mere slap on the wrist as punishment for their actions. It’s one of the things Super did far better than TTYD because Beldam being let off scott free in the ending always pissed me off as a kid. The final boss is less ham-fisted in general too.

You have three characters at all times-- they’re your only party members and the only ones you need because they’re all perfectly balanced: Kabbu, Vi, and Leif. The third of which you won’t even meet until a bit into the first chapter. You don’t have to worry about wasting turns by switching your members out in this game.

The story starts off simple with the team of three collecting artifacts for Queen Elizant II, who seeks the Everlasting Sapling for an unspecified reason. About half way through the game and into the fourth chapter, the tone of the situation begins to shift, as the wicked wasps from the Wasp Kingdom also seek these artifacts for their lord.

This game doesn’t skimp out on being accurate to bug details either, there are little nods to how things work in real life, which is something I always appreciate. There isn’t really a dull moment in the story or a second where you feel stuck, because with the amount of Medals you get, there are plenty of strategies you can play around with.

Bug Fables is also… surprisingly dark, which perhaps isn’t unfitting of a game inspired by Paper Mario, given the direction TTYD and Super would get into. I can’t really spoil anything in regards to that, because much like with Three Houses, I would rather someone experience that themselves.

In terms of the flaws in this game, I can only think of two. One is regarding a terrible Flappy Bird game that’s required for 100%. It just shouldn’t be there, or at least be easier on the eyes.

The other is that this game suffers from having too many characters, when only four of them get actual character arcs: The main trio and the queen. You have some characters that get more fleshed out in side quests such as fellow team members or NPCs, but I feel like other “major players” suffer in the process.

Neolith is a big one. Cute nerdy moth who just exists as exposition for the artifacts and is a part of Kabbu’s backstory, but he never really does anything besides that, which is disappointing because he’s very cute. I would have loved more lore to him and Kabbu’s past, maybe a future DLC quest can solve that!

Your “rival team” also suffers a bit in this department. The team leader, Mothiva, is a snooty diva who never properly gets her comeuppance or realization that she needs to stop making everything about herself. I guess that’s the point, to give that vibe similar to old Pokémon rivals. But we’re supposed to believe she’s an official couple with her partner; Zasp, who just seems to simp for her in a one-sided way. Perhaps this could also be fixed with another DLC quest.

The worst of the bunch is Kina, Maki’s overly protective and possessive sister to the point of it being creepy. Unlike Mothiva, who is your rival, Kina is supposed to be a supporting cast member, yet she has even less likable traits. She stalks her brother and constantly wants to be with him, gets upset at the idea of him needing space, threatens a small caterpillar character-- you could remove her from the story and it changes nothing. There’s not even a backstory reason for her to be the way she is.

Mind you-- these are very minor nitpicks that don’t really bog down the game. Some may say the main villain of the game suffers from this as well since he shows up halfway into the game, I personally think he was handled perfectly, because you can piece together his motivations and backstory through lore.

Speaking of lore, I hope with so much in this game, that we end up getting a sequel. There are so many questions left unanswered, so much more I wanna know about! 

Other than that thought? The trio of Kabbu, Vi, and Leif and their story is just about perfect. I can’t thank Arlo enough for introducing me to it, and I think this game will catch on more in the future since Chuggaconroy said he was playing it on Twitter, and Fatguy just completed his LP of the game.

I think… we’re entering an age where we should start expecting this level of quality from indie developers more often. This game didn’t feel like an indie game, it felt like a grade a RPG. Which is funny, because that’s what Paper Mario used to be.

God speed, Paper Bug devs. Keep up the good work in the future, thank you for bringing back a feeling I thought I’d never experience with a video game again. I know it sounds cheesy and stupid, but that’s.. just how much Paper Mario effected me back then. Even now, it inspires the books I wanna write, and it’s safe to say Bug Fables did the same.

By the way, can I talk about how delicious some of the food items look in this game? This is insect cuisine, and even I would eat these.

For recap on what the other games I had played this year were, just so you know how Bug Fables topped ‘em:

2. Fire Emblem: Three Houses

3. Animal Crossing: New Horizons

4. Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town

5. Super Mario All-Stars

6. Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon and The Blade of Light

7. Final Fantasy VII

8. F-Zero

9. Star Fox

10. Puyo Puyo Champions

[milkcakejamun]

ShiVi X HP Crossover, Part I

“For the Japanese, who know so much and intuit more, human relations are predestined by a red string that the gods tie to the pinky fingers of those who find each other in life. Legend has it that the two people connected by this thread will have an important story, regardless of the time, place, or circumstances. The red string might get tangled, contracted, or stretched, as surely often happens, but it can never break."

----------Page Break -------------

His little finger interlocked with her own, “Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to find you?” He brought his other hand up to her face and gently caressed her cheek as she leaned towards him in comfort. “In any shape. In any form. In any world,” he whispered as his thumb brushed across her lower lip. “I will find you,” he leaned closer to her as she angled her body towards him, “because we are fated for each other.” — C. K. Rani

Raavi smiled as she lowered the book. Her eyes trailed over to the boy… no man, sitting right across from her. His hair was neatly combed and parted to the side, uniform was clean and well ironed, quills organized by size and shape of the tip.

He was Ved Pandya, and he was absolutely perfect.

As someone who believed in soulmates, Raavi knew that Ved Pandya was the one for her, perhaps from the moment she first laid eyes on him on Platform 9 3/4 at King’s Cross Station hugging his family. A warm feeling blossomed in her chest when she saw those happy smiles, and for the first time, she knew where she belonged… and that was with the Pandya family…

For that reason alone, she did her best to pursue a friendship with Ved, even though they were sorted in different houses, him in Hufflepuff and her in Ravenclaw. She would try to sit at his table, she would meet up with him after class asking about doubts, and she would try to be involved in whatever activity he was involved in (with the sole exception of Quidditch).

Slowly, but surely, her efforts paid off… Ved and her began a friendship in their third year of school, and now as seventh years, they were essentially inseparable. She knew every little secret of his, and he knew almost everything about her as well… and fairly soon, he would know the last truth she was hiding.

The truth that she loved him…

“If you spent as much time as you did watching me on your studies, you would’ve cleared all the exams with straight O’s,” she heard his soft murmur. He glanced up from his book with a frown adorning his face, and again, she was absolutely mesmerized by how good-looking Ved was… his soft eyes, the gentle curve of his cheeks.

She smiled lazily at him as she leaned over to close the book he was reading, “Grades don’t matter,” she stated as a matter-of-fact. Not when my goal is to be by your side anyway. “Not when I have a job, at least,” she mentioned with a smirk. The Pandya family already offered her a job after graduation, regardless of what her final exam scores were.

Ved rolled his eyes, “I might not mind, but my cousin—,”

Raavi scowled at the thought of working for anyone else other than Ved. Ved’s father, the sweet and charming Dev Pandya, would not allow her to work for anyone else. Most especially that “dreaded” and “tyrant” of a cousin… She’s never met that good-for-nothing cousin (and never even cared to inquire about him), but she knew he was not good news.

No man was good news when he sent her plastic lizards for her birthday… and that man even knew of her crush on Ved, as every birthday note included a small message of, “Do not even dare!”

Ansh Pandya… the beloved son of Gautam and Dhara Pandya, and the heir apparent of the wonderful Pandya Store… Someone with such a great legacy should have been a model citizen… instead, Ansh chose to be the bane of her life… the villain of her love story.

Even when he wasn’t there, he made her life miserable… suggesting Ved should get a girlfriend, and even offering a list of potential girls he could begin talking to…

“Let’s not ruin this afternoon by speaking about him,” she huffed.

“He’s not that awful,” Ved’s lips curled upwards in amusement. “He was the one to offer you a job, after all.”

And it was a halfhearted and insulting offer should she say so herself. Without even being there, he sent her an offer letter after Gautam Pandya made the initial offer. His letter claimed she would make the perfect addition to the company, as their next project was developing the operating system to their cell phone line. The Chipkali operating system… and as a “chipkali” herself, she would offer the perfect inspiration…

If he wasn’t related to the wonderful Pandya family, she would have throttled him years back when he sent her a toy lizard which came to “life” the second she touched it. The only good thing that happened with that was that Ved hugged her and stayed by her side the rest of the night.

“When you join company, you’ll understand,” Ved stood up and stretched. “His heart is truly filled with gold… and he honestly is the beacon of the family, especially after…,” he trailed off as his eyes were filled with anguish.

She swallowed, knowing to stay silent. A few years back, prior to Ved’s birth, the Pandya family suffered their greatest loss. They had been the most spoken about family, especially with the advent of their new wizarding products… a phone that rivaled the ones used by Muggles… computers that connected every aspect of the community… quills that were able to engineer anything from the imagination…

They had transformed the Wizarding World… and just as they celebrated their greatest success… the inventor of it all passed away…

“I wonder if he’s proud of us,” Ved murmured as he glanced out the window, gazing at the blue sky.

Raavi smiled softly as she squeezed his shoulder. She had never known Shiva Pandya… and she seldom hears of him as well since he always invoked the tears from the family. But she knew, that regardless of who Shiva Pandya was, he would be proud of Ved and Ansh…

Ved placed his hand over hers and turned to her with a soft smile, “Anyhow, it’s time for us to part,” he slowly packed up his quills and belongings into his bag as Raavi turned to him curiously. “Sruthi and I will be practicing today for the big game next week.”

Raavi had nodded her head… until he had uttered that vile name from his lips… Sruthi… the woman that Ansh had come up with. She had thought Ved would break the connection, just as he had done so with the four other women… but, after going out for butter beer once, Ved and Sruthi had hit it off. They had been speaking to each other much more, despite Sruthi being an entire two years younger. And even though they were in different houses, they practiced Quidditch together…

She wasn’t one to become mad with jealousy… but there was something in Sruthi that brought the worst in her… that made her worry about the future she envisioned for herself.

“I want to come, too!” she announced as she quickly packed her belongings herself.

“You?” Ved raised a brow. Raavi nodded her head, ignoring the bewilderment in his expression. Even after nearly four years of friendship, she had hoped Ved would’ve known. How relentless she could be. “You do understand we will be riding our brooms,” Raavi raised her brow as Ved continued, “Playing Quidditch.”

After a moment of silence, Raavi crossed her arms, “So?” She was fully aware that she could not ride a broom… however, that doesn’t mean her eyes were not perfectly functional. She could sit in the bleachers and shout whenever they became too close. “I’ll watch!”

He rolled his eyes as he motioned for her to tag along.

Grinning with pride, she skipped along his side, briefly glancing over at his profile every now and then, admiring everything she could about him. He was absolutely perfect for her in every way. He was just about an inch taller—so he wouldn’t have to bend down and hurt his neck whenever they kissed. He had the most impeccable fashion when they did not have to be in their uniforms.

“Are you excited to join the company?” Ved murmured as their hands brushed.

Raavi felt a gentle tingle go up her arms as a smile split wide on her face. She gently rubbed the area that had touched his hand. Nodding her head, she felt a warm flush come over her face, “Yes,” she breathed out. Working alongside him was a dream come true.

“Ansh is excited as well,” Ved brought his hand up to his mouth as he tried to hide his smile. Raavi raised a brow as she glanced over in his direction. “Wait… do you not know?” he began laughing. “Ansh will be your supervisor once you start working.”

Raavi’s eyes widened as she stilled to a complete stop. Ansh? My supervisor? She could only see a dark cloud over her head… They were never able to meet because he had chosen to attend Durmstrang (thank Somnath, otherwise they would’ve killed each other), but from the small tidbits she knew of him, and from the letters he had sent her, he would be a brutal boss.

“Ansh is not bad, Raavi,” Ved whispered. “He would never hurt anyone. Most especially you.”

Me? She scowled remembering all the gifts he had sent her over the years. The toy chipkalis, the dung bombs, packets of oils and masalas (though she had no understanding of why he would give her such a thing… she was an absolutely wonderful cook!). Not a single gift was sweet… and she didn’t even know what she did to deserve this! They hadn’t even met before!

Which was why she began sending him inappropriate gifts as well. From sending him acid pops, frog spawn soap, bulbadox powder… unfortunately, nothing terrible had happened to him.

“Raavi.”

She glanced at Ved as Ved reached out for her hand.

“You’re Raavi… anyone can fall in love with you,” he smiled at her softly.

Warmth blossomed in her chest as she followed Ved to the Quidditch field. Anyone can fall in love with me… her eyes zeroed in Ved’s back. Does that mean he actually loves me? A smile found it’s way onto her face. Then I don’t need to wait to confess? I can just do it right now?

“Ved,” she called out at the same moment Ved’s face brightened with joy.

“Sruthi!” he called out as the happiness fizzled out of Raavi.

She turned to Sruthi with a glare… She didn’t even exist a few months ago, but now, she became a mainstay, an unwanted third wheel, and despite all the hints she was giving Sruthi… that girl really didn’t understand.

“Ved!” Sruthi smiled as she ran over to him.

Ved pulled her into a hug as Raavi bit her lower lip, feeling excluded. In all her years of being good friends with Ved, he had never taken the liberty to hug her in such a manner. Is it because he thinks I don’t want to hug him? How do I let him know that I do want to hug him? That I want to do much more with him like hold his hands and go to Hogsmeade with him on a date?

Sruthi turned to Raavi with a small smile, “Will you be sitting on the bleachers?”

Raavi nodded her head slowly, wishing she didn’t have to sit on the bleachers. Wishing she could ride a broom just as well as Sruthi, if not better.

“Could you hang onto this for me?” Sruthi handed her a gold necklace with a small hourglass in the middle.

“Time turner?” Ved asked excitedly. “Aren’t they all gone?”

Sruthi nodded her head, “Yes, but,” she glanced at Raavi briefly, and Raavi quite honestly felt very insulted. She and Ved shared everything. How dare this girl treat me as the outsider! “My uncle actually works in the Ministry, and after I told him about how I wanted to take extra classes… he kind of gave this to me,” a warm blush colored her cheeks as Raavi scoffed in annoyance.

Know it alls… She hated those people the most, and this “using a time turner to take as many classes as I possibly could” was yet another reason for her to despise dislike Sruthi. She’s just a fifth year student! She has a few more years…

“And because it’s so precious, I can’t let anything happen to it, so Raavi di,” Raavi did her best to not react to the ‘di’ that was spoken. “Could you hang on to it as Ved and I practice?”

Before she could utter a single word, Sruthi placed the necklace in Raavi’s hands. Ved and Sruthi, then, both grabbed their brooms, heavily engaged in their own conversation. What surprised her greatly was the chemistry they shared with each other. Sruthi was able to touch Ved’s arm, and instead of shrugging her off, like he normally does, he just stood there, smiling at her and whispering something that made her laugh.

V-Ved?

Raavi swallowed as she watched them zip through the sky. Sruthi’s dark brown hair zipped across the wind, and for a second, Raavi’s heart wavered. All these years, she reassured herself that she was the most beautiful girl in all of Hogwarts—and her long list of admirers only made that so much easier. But as the sun shone on Sruthi… Raavi wondered whether she was truly beautiful enough…

Ved’s younger sister had taken a liking towards Sruthi as well… and Ansh… he was the one who suggested Ved speak to Sruthi…

N-no Raavi… you can’t give up. You’re Raavi! The girl who can make anyone smile and laugh. No one can hate you…

Raavi bit her lip as she quickly ran to the storage closet, picking up a broom for herself. It doesn’t matter if I can’t ride a broom… besides how hard can it be? Whispering a small prayer, she gripped onto the broom as she mounted it, and gently, she tilted the broom up, eyes widened as she slowly rose into the sky.

Taking slow, steady breaths, her racing heart slowly turned normal again as she stabilized in the sky, “I-I really did it,” she cracked a small smile, ignoring the drop of sweat that was forming at the side of her forehead. She let out a few airy laughs, “And it wasn’t even that hard,” she began laughing a little more comfortably. “I don’t even know what I was so worried about.”

She patted her shoulder with the hand that held the time turner, “G-good job, Raavi.” Her eyes briefly glanced down, getting a glimpse of the small architecture that was underneath her and she instantly regretted it. “N-no, no, no… don’t think about it. J-just figure out how to g-go forward.”

Swallowing, she raised her head at the same time she heard her name be shouted.

Oh bugger… the blood from her face drained the second she saw the bludger coming towards her. She brought her hands up to her face, feeling a searing pain pierce through her abdomen as she was knocked off her broom. Her nails dug into her palms as she closed her eyes, embracing her free fall.

This was certainty not the end she thought she would meet.

At least you’ll be remembered as the girl who brought a smile to everyone’s face… I wonder what Ved will think… will he remember me afterwards? Or will he forget about me, too…

Warmth enveloped her as her head was cradled. Instead of feeling a searing pain rip through her… she was held by someone strong… someone well-built.

V-Ved… did you catch me?

A waft of masalas and oils drifted towards her as she clenched onto the uniform with trembling hands.

No… it can’t be him… then who…?

Even through the dull pain that was throbbing at her head, she slowly opened her eyes.

Sharp facial features, long hair, dark, smoldering eyes… He was the exact opposite of Ved. Manly… terrifying… not at all her type. Heaviness fell upon her eyelids as her face fell on top of his chest.

Who are you?

[npmjs]

Next Phase Montage

tl;dr -- Good news!

npm, Inc., is being purchased by GitHub.

The public registry remains public, free, and as available as ever.

npm as you know it continues, and in fact, there is good reason to believe that it'll only get better.

I'm still going to be working on npm (but with the luxury of more resources and less stress).

I'm really excited about the stuff we're going to do.

It is customary for a founder, in the closing chapter of their startup, to ruminate in a blog post about their incredible journey1. When we founded npm, Inc., I knew that I was signing up for a post like this someday. I'm extremely thankful that this is the one I get to write2.

history and origin

Back in 2009, after too long without a vacation, I quit my job, in hopes of discovering what happens when I untether my creativity.

What happened is I wrote a package manager.

I created npm with the goal of sharing modules in a tiny group of nerdy weirdos who'd decided to write web servers in JavaScript. From that niche beginning, npm grew, slowly but surely, the background project I'd greedily steal away time for.

At the end of 2013, npm hit a rough spot and we had to make a decision. This was the first big bookmark in the npm story, when the project could no longer survive on donations. We made some slide decks and raised an amount of money that seemed enormous at the time, but inevitably got spent really fast.

the part where i talk about startups

Running a company is hard. It is grueling, unglamorous work.

I don't want to make it sound completely terrible. There are definitely a few awesome parts. But once is enough for me.

Throughout this journey, our north star has been the mission that we founded this company with: reduce friction in JavaScript software development.

I have a set of goals that I wrote down back then, and have shared openly with the team. They haven't changed much.

Keep the npm registry running forever (not only for the life of the company).

Be a company that we can all enjoy working at, and do the best work of our careers up until now.

Get a big enough exit that I can quit my job and see what comes out of me a second time.

Share the rewards equitably with the people who got npm to where it is.

There are few unmitigated successes or failures in the real world. But this is a win, and a good one, for me and the team and the entire JavaScript community.

We have made tremendous progress on (1), and that's the thing I'm happiest about in this. As far as (2), there's been ups and downs, to say the least, but the bright spots outshine the dark. I've lost some valued friendships in the process, but made a few as well. On (3), well, I'm still working a jobby job, but I always knew that was a long shot, and "make npm a better package manager" is a job I enjoy. And as for (4), I'm proud of the deals that we've been able to negotiate for the team.

It's not a kajillion billion dollar 10x startup cinderella story, and we've taken our hits, but in the end we've done right by our community, team, and careers, and I'm extremely proud of what we've achieved.

the part where i talk about the company buying us

One of the questions founders get asked a lot is "what might your exit look like?" I always mentioned the big tech companies as possibilities, and GitHub as a sort of "wishful thinking" option.

I've been following GitHub's trajectory closely since they came to Yahoo! to give a talk about git and social coding way back in 20093. It's been a huge part of my life ever since I dove head-first into open source as a lifestyle choice.

When I saw the GitHub Packages beta announcement and demo at GitHub HQ in San Francisco, I remember turning to Shanku Niyogi and clumsily blurting out, "Why aren't you trying to buy us?"

It seemed so maddeningly... obvious. Forget about whose logo is on which webpage, just... if you're going to do this thing, do it right, ffs. This clearly needs to be integrated with the actual registry in a very deep way. "I mean... You see that, right?" (I think he probably did. And if he didn't, then props to him for taking my reaction as flattery or a good idea, rather than condescension.)

What I didn't really expect at the beginning of the acquisition process was how much I'd genuinely like everyone I met at GitHub, starting with my initial conversations with Nat, as well as all the people on the team he's built. As we dug into the technical and strategic plans for how npm would fit into the vision of GitHub moving forward, it became clear that this isn't just a good option for the JavaScript community -- it's significantly better than what npm, Inc., can provide on its own.

There are not many companies that can claim to have the kind of fanatical commitment to open source that GitHub does. In the track record of Nat and the team he's assembled, there's really something special here that I'm thrilled to be a part of.

I've said countless times before that I wouldn't let the registry go someplace that won't take care of it. (See goal (1) above. I've sacrificed years of my life and put a strain on many personal and professional relationships in pursuit of that goal.)

As GitHub has branched out into other aspects of the end-to-end developer community experience, it's natural to see how the JavaScript package management process fits into that story. It's not a loss leader or an experimental add-on or a way to quickly hire a team. Rather, the npm registry is a significant and concrete strategic asset serving GitHub's mission of eliminating transaction costs in software development.

That's important.

the part about what comes next

Today, npm serves over 1.3 million packages to roughly 12 million developers, who download these things 75 billion times a month, and all of this is growing at a rate that ensures these massive numbers will seem small in a few years.

Our commitment to that community is to keep the npm registry free for open source development for the foreseeable future, and continue to improve the npm CLI. At GitHub, npm will have the added support and backing of one of the world's largest companies, behind the world's largest community of developers.

There are some awesome opportunities for improvement in the npm experience, to meaningfully improve life for JS devs in countless large and small ways. We'll be making things more reliable, convenient, and connected for everyone across our vast interdependent JavaScript ecosystem.

For six years, in the grind of a startup, we've had dreams too big to dare hope for. This next chapter is a chance to realize those dreams.

This is the end of "npm, Inc.", the Delaware C Corp. But it's an exciting upgrade for npm.

[1]: Reference joke Our Incredible Journey

[2]: It's also worth noting that GitHub allowed such a long, nuanced, and candid announcement as this one, and didn't push for a watered down corporate version. Cultural alignment is a good sign.

[3]: Check out the date on the post for that talk. Then note the date on this commit. It's like some kind of cryptic message from the past, and it's weirding me out, tbh.

[terrorhqs]

hello to each and every one of you absolute wonders !! first of all, we would like to apologize for the wait - when we saw 8 apps hitting the inbox in the last few hours, we knew we would have some Serious Work on our hands. it took us longer than we expected to go through all of them, mainly because every single one was absolutely incredible, and this entailed several very, very tough decisions. we also wanted to be as accommodating as possible for certain applicants who inspired us to make a few changes along the way - with their backstories, their line of thinking, their amazing character, which we will note below. this truly was a round of acceptances where we thought we might create a whole new batch of skeletons just to showcase each app. thank you to everyone who applied. and for everyone who got accepted, please make sure to send in your accounts in 24h !!

HENRY for THE COMMANDER (james norton)

henry, your writing was an absolute treat, but it was truly your future plot ideas we were feasting on! we absolutely loved how tightly tied to fitzwilliam’s psyche they were, how terribly heart wrenching they were - particularly the first one - we have to admit it made us weepy and excited in equal measure.

GEN for THE DEVOTED, captain’s steward (richard deiss)

gen, your writing flourishes and entrances and beguiles, just as rowan does, and the two of you do it so effortlessly. your in-character response was a brilliant show of creativity and development in showing how rowan reacts to the same question asked by different people, and we knew he would be a phenomenon onboard the promethean. your app was showstopping, and we couldn't wait to welcome you aboard.

CAIT for THE SOCIALITE (tuppence middleton)

the whole personality of stella was a whirlwind in motion !! we were so eager to read more about them from the very first seconds. and the prose ! how beautiful ! (Worship the altar of this consuming, rebellious  heart and wear it in red, bathe in this baptismal font of sordid gossip, glory, erupting nights of heated duels between wit and ego) - this is the epitome of what we wanted for them, and even more than we could’ve hoped !

KAT for THE DOCTOR (dev patel)

kat, please let us dwell with jonathan in his sunshine and pure spirit forever?? we are all rosa diaz on this blessed day and he is a golden retriever puppy we would all kill for. we love his love for nature’s wonders and for people alike, but we also adore the depth and understanding you brought to his future plots. we welcome you and jonathan to the crew with such, such open arms !

ALICE for THE DOE-HEARTED (su yihan)

alice, your writing was a siren song that lulled us into the depth of sybil's story - in a heartbeat, we would drown in it all over again. you kept the essence of the doe-hearted but took it so much further in making her a girl haunted, the buildup of sybil and her story a grimm fairytale to be told again and again. "You were born by the water, sweet thing. Your story is the sea with but an island in the middle of it." you have truly woven a complexity to the doe-hearted that we never expected - we'll all be holding our breaths to see how our dear fairytale fares on open waters !!

BEAU for THE INTREPID (tobias menzies)

oh, beau. the entire process of your application was as beautiful and chaotic as a natural phenomenon - it felt like we need albert in this rp, and that weight had the certainty of force? we knew we have to give him the leeway for development he deserved. i cannot properly convey how much we loved the schematics of his past, and how it contrasted with his ideals for the future. he is a map of contrasts and we are so eager to see him on the dash !

NAYAB for THE ENIGMA (katrina kaif)

nayab, the way you illustrated jaya's rich history was absolutely delectable - we were positively screaming over the intricate detail you put into the creation of such a nuanced, interesting, and fiery character. the research and thought you put into jaya absolutely wowed us, and it was impossible not to love (and admittedly, cower a little before) her. "what if this expedition makes you encounter what even you - with your cautious gait, and sharp, dark-eyed gaze - never saw coming?" what a cannonball she is, and what an impact she had on us !

JINHEE for THE HARUSPEX (avan jogia)

jinhee, ashwin is an absolute delight and so was reading your application! as rhi screamed, ‘FUCK I BELIEVE IN HOPE AGAIN??’ we loved the icarus imagery and were not prepared to be completely undone by this line: (and weren’t you told never to touch your idols? warned that the gilding will stick to your fingers?). the way you took his father’s ancestry and tied into his present feelings for britain was absolutely chef’s kiss. we were enamored from start to finish - well done.

KYLIE for THE IDOL (garret hedlund)

oh, what a STUNNING app !! it is so difficult to balance guilt and righteousness, and we feel like you did that thoroughly for jack. your level of close-reading through our skeleton was genuinely flattering, but the way you took it to new depths (and heights) was humbling. we are so, so eager to see how the tide will turn for jack, and all the possible ways you can give him a redemption arc - or the lack of one.

N for THE LOVER (zoe kravitz)

N, let me prostrate myself at eleonore’s feet. your application was so rich and beautifully written, truly embodying the lover’s feline lethality that you want to pet anyway despite knowing she might very well be your downfall. “feed me was all she had ever asked in exchange for burning day and night for him.” hello yes, we volunteer.

TILDA for THE NOBLE (madeline madden)

it was very hard choice for the noble, but tilda, i adore helene’s family’s backstory, how it seemed to rot from the core until collapse. you truly grasped the character and her yearning for abandon, her desperation, and her voice/dialogue in your in-character response was utterly delightful! we can’t wait to see her voyage from sea-legged noble lady to tide commanding shanty.

ADRIAN for THE PURSER (matthew goode)

if only you could see how we reacted when we received this app ! and trust me, the hype only increased when we got to reading it. did we channel that excitement through God-honest tears? uh, yes. we did. ( dead can’t receive letters but Edward still writes them anyway. ) we clutched edward to our chest time and time again through that - and the SPLENDID letter added at the end, what a treat to us ! we are so thankful just at the privilege of reading this. we’re even more thankful that we’ll see him on the dash.

EMI for THE ROMANTIC, wardroom steward (yang yang)

emi, we've concluded with all of your beautiful plot points that you and june do indeed, have the range - you gave us such a variety of wonderful exploration of june's personality, psyche, hopes, and dreams all wrapped up in the beautiful poetry that fit june's character like a second skin.  "the light upon the ice. a brilliant, sightless mirror. it comes not from the sun but from our prometheus, barrelling out from dark waters with an inexplicable gift: fire." you've captured him so beautifully and we cannot wait to see how he will be the promethean's sun to the open seas !

CLAUDIA for THE SCION (rome flynn)

you really manged to send a :59 app and still steal the show ! how very Scion-y of you. in all seriousness, i adored augustus background so MUCH - his maternal connection, the wishy-washy tides of his family’s structure, the conflict inherent in his very development !! so so good. you took a carefree skeleton and you gave it a million possible depths. we, as both admins and players, are so grateful for it.

AERIN for THE SHADOW (sebastian stan)

aerin, it is not an exaggeration that your app had us literally with our jaws open the entire time ? you truly took us turn after turn into elijah's story and hours later, we're still breathless and trying to recover from it. you captured the shadow's overcast history the way a shadow slowly looms over you - we were absolutely consumed by the end of it, and we're all here absolutely begging for more. we can't wait to have enoch onboard this expedition !

CASS for THE GODKILLER (kofi siriboe)

this is the sort of role dreams are made of. i think i speak for everyone when i say we never could have envisioned a skeleton as terrific, terrifying, tectonic as abel. stop me with the alliterations - lapsing into poetry is genuinely the only thing left to do when the support of prose fails you? you brought us to the end of prose. their role just jumped out for us and we knew it called for an entire skeleton. what an app !

ANNIE for THE STOWAWAY (riana hardesty)

i have to confess, we had such high expectations for the stowaway, because we knew their motivation would be one of the toughest to crack - and annie, you exceeded literally even the most optimistic of them ! (You’re no musician, but playing the melody of someone else, someone who can weasel their way in and out of a bad spot - that’s one song you know how to sing well enough.) that is such a fantastic rendition of their personality, and written so, so beautifully !

LEO for THE VETERAN (toby stephens)

i think this app was the one which sent me in a banshee-screech session that was genuinely disturbing to everyone on a 100 miles radius. the way you phrased the headcanons at the end had me in stitches - which was a welcome change for how DEEPLY i was feeling wells’ backstory. from sobbing to laughter just like that, huh. you have an unprecedented power, leo, and we love to see it !

[archiveddvrpg]

Congratulations, LIA! You’ve been accepted for the role of MACBETH with an approved FC change to Dev Patel. Admin Rosey: Ladies and gentlemen, we are incredibly excited to announce that we have our Macbeth! Mikael Falco is a difficult character to capture simply because writing him is like a balancing act - you have to understand his own wants and the wants of those he loves and find balance between the two. Lia, you managed to capture him and his voice perfectly making him wholly unique and stand out in an unapologetic way. We are over the moon to have out Macbeth and even more excited to see what ruin he'll bring to the dash! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Liar

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her

Activity Level | I pop in every few days for replies, and I’ll definitely be even more active once school ends in a few weeks.

Timezone | EST

How did you find the rp?  | The RP tag many, many eons ago.

Current/Past RP Accounts | *points at Ro*

IN CHARACTER

Character | Macbeth— AKA the wonderfully indecisive and useless Mikael Falco. I would also like to request an FC change to Dev Patel. Dev is 29, so I was hoping to age him down to 31 or 32? That would also make me much more comfortable with the age gap between him and Lucrezia!

What drew you to this character? | Honestly, after I read Macbeth in my Shakespeare class, I began looking at Mikael in a different light. I think there are many people in Verona with  one track minds and desires, but none as plagued by their owns demons and indecision in the way that Mikael is. He was told exactly who he was supposed to be. His parents outlined all the steps, set him up with all the tools and knowledge necessary to secure notoriety for the Falco name. This man yeeted his own parents out of Verona. Like who does that? I think I’ve fallen in love with the potential Mikael sees in himself, but his own inability to make anything of it, and I am v excited to see how he can potentially wreak havoc (or not) when he finally does something (or doesn’t, but if he does it’ll probably be stupid lbr). Being a dark, immoral asshole means nothing when you don’t have the intelligence, aptitude, nor motivation to act on it tbh. He’s not the obvious pick for someone in pursuit of throne— but I believe his inability to quiet the lust within him will potentially get him damn near close (or damn near dead).

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

I DARE DO ALL THAT MAY BECOME A MAN; WHO DARES DO MORE IS NONE— Mikael definitely isn’t the most moral of characters. His parents instilled one goal within him. They never said he had to do it in the most right or moral way. I am interested in exploring his own loyalty to the mob, or the lackthereof. I see him taking the most convienent possible route in order to obtain the one thing he acquires most, and that is the crown. Whether that be through the Capulets or through the Montagues.

IT WILL HAVE BLOOD THEY SAY. BLOOD WILL HAVE BLOOD—The ambuigity in his connection with Matthias is something I adore. It never concretely states whether or not Mikael actually killed his father, but considering all the people he’s killed, whether it be for the Falcos, the Capulets, Lucrezia, or himself— Mikael has accumulated a plethora of bodies in his wake, and quite a few ghosts to follow. A HUGE charactaristic that defines Macbeth, and Mikael too is his own paranoia. He’s always convinced someone is out to get him, and that his own actions (mostly lackthereof), will come back to haunt him. This plot isn’t super concrete right now, but I want Mikael to something (or many) deliciously stupid. Maybe it’ll work out, maybe it probably won’t. These are mostly traits I hope to explore through further characterization and plot development.

SHALL HE DWINDLE, PEAK, AND PINE— There aren’t many people nor things Mikael fears (maybe Lucrezia and his own mind), but Theodora definitely creeps him the fuck out. He won’t make it easier for them, he wants to be chased, pursued even, before he ever considers giving in. What happens when they offer him an escape? Through the experimentation of his own body and mind? What happens when they offer him a potential way to quiet his demons? Mikael has never been one to indulge in drugs, Lucrezia has always been intoxicating enough (an equal parts a headache), and I’m interested in how they might end affecting him— for better or for worse. Will it make him more active? Will it make him even more inactive then before? It would take time because Mikael is stubborn as fuck, but these are all things I hope to discover ;-)

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Pls. Don’t let Lucrezia do it though :|

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample:

1. Mikael born to a family that coveted immortality, to the point where they’d procure it by any means, and for any imminent amount. They would appraise their SOULS, and solicit them to the highest bidders. It would be the Capulets that accepted their terms, and from that moment on, their names would forever be intertwined with the Capulet reign. A symbiotic liaison was formed, one that depended on a child, a son, in particular, to propel forward. But hadn’t they saw how precarious of a position they’d left him in? How difficult it was to make a proper namesake for himself, one severed from the Capulet name, when the only prosperity he’d known was flung to him in scraps from their bloodied, opened palms? They’d grown far too content with being the Capulet’s lapdogs, and they’d managed to commit the greatest sin that any mortal man could carry out against him. Doubt. As they boarded their flight back to India, after a very convincing conversation with Cosimo Capulet expressing his concern for their dwindling minds, his parents were then reduced to the nameless commoners that they’d once been all those years ago. They should’ve known better, but they hadn’t known better— and that’s when Mikael understood that he was not the GOD he believed himself to be and that a total recreation of  himself was vital. He would no longer be the child of two people utterly content with being subjected to the will of another. Those were not the kind of people that were IMMORTALIZED by scripture long after they were gone. He would become the man unwilling to settle for anything other than absolute IDOLIZATION, no matter who would have to be eradicated from his path in order to do so. He were a man willing to forsake even his own parents; how could anyone believe he would not obtain what he wanted at any cost?

2. He would know of LUST before he knew of love (though can he say he truly has loved? When the only love he’d had known has been distorted and corrupt to its very essence?) That terrible, that wild desire— it was instilled in him from his earliest moments of comprehension. This insatiable want; this unquenchable need for something more. It would lord over him in his youth, towering over him like an ominous cloud, but it wasn’t until adulthood that Mikael would dally with it, exploring its various nuances and potentiality. It wouldn’t be until his parents denied him of what he believed to be rightfully his that he first succumbed to it. The second time would be when he saw her. She’d been a dancing flurry of reds, vivacious energy ricocheting off of her and into the minds of her spectators— men and women of all ages. But there had been a crucial disparity between Mikael and the rest of the onlookers, as he would coo to her months later. They were wholly content with being graced by Lucrezia’s presence. A glimpse of her was all they thought they deserved. He’d been greedy, not wanting to settle for a meager glimpse. Mikae had never been one to stop at what he simply deserved. That same lust that had driven him to exile his own blood was the same lust that electrified him in his pursuits of Lucrezia. He’d been a man of scarce variety in his own thoughts, and a man of even scarcer actions. And truthfully? Mikael had known he wasn’t good enough. Not at that moment when he’d first saw her. But his desire fueled his insignificant life with purpose, and despite his own habit of capitulating to inaction, he were determined more than anything to become good enough. No one could deny Mikael of that— of his unquenchable resolve. Lucrezia could ask him of anything, to stare down the GODS themselves, and he would’ve done so. At that moment, he had been nothing and she had been everything. They would BECOME something together. She would breathe life to the Falco name. He’d signed away his soul and commenced with his dance with the devil. Lucrezia wanted a chase— she wanted him to leap through rings of hellfire for her favor, and he’d indulged her with little resistance. He had not expected the softness her love would instill within him, and how wholly determined he would be to keep her happy. She would become the spark that would ignite his flame; she breathed life into the Falco name as he’d expected, but she’d breathed life into him too. He’d been completely enchanted, blind to the power he’d gradually begun to sign over to her. His soul had gone first, followed by his cognizance, a suspension of disbelief replacing the parts of his mind that were meant to be logical. Mikael would come to know that flame Lucrezia wielded, that flame that once frequently warmed him— and that it was just as capable of SCORCHING him all the same. She’d seized all his shortcomings, and how plentiful they had been, and stored them in her ARSENAL of weapons to be wielded against him. And wield them she did. Each TAUNT bounded him tighter and tighter to her. He was incapable of overlooking his own inferiority in her presence. That inferiority that he’d promised himself to overcome, was now being used to keep him constrained, confining him to his own mediocrity. Maybe this is what he deserved for existing as a being ruled by only lust. Mikael told himself that a lesser man would have befallen the same fate, but how could he truly have known, when that lesser man himself met him every day in the mirror?

Extras: my love and adoration b/c I took too damn long on that para sample sokefgoegek Btw, all my bold text disappeared. :( I redid it twice. And it’s gone, yet again

[kimmimaru]

A piece of fic I’m working on, I’m particularly proud of this. It’s a Reno/Tseng fic, in the previous chapter Reno is tortured, in this one he and Tseng need to have a chat about how it’s changed their relationship. Under a read more due to length but I’m excited about this. :D

Rude finds Reno standing by the massive picture window in the staff rooms, he leans against the glass with one hip and his arms folded over his chest. The other staff give him a wide berth, their eyes constantly darting to his silhouette as they mutter in low voices to one another. Rude pushes through a small crowd of minor scientists and reaches his partners side. “You ok?” Reno doesn't look back, instead watching Rude's reflection in the glass, “Fine.” He says stiffly, rubbing at his arm absently as he frowns down over Midgar. “How's working with Cissnei?” Rude shrugs, pushing his glasses further onto the bridge of his nose, “She's not you. Don't know her as well, hard to work with someone like that.” “Yeah,” Reno sighs, pressing his forehead to the cool glass. He's dressed in his usual suit, shirt gaping open to reveal his bruised chest. Most of his wounds are healed, only minor bruising and a few bandaged cuts remain. He shifts, fabric rustling. “You seen Tseng lately?” Rude nods, “Yeah. He's been busy though, paper work on the Crescent and the Cheif's hunting that mole.” “Good.” Reno pauses, “They won't let me near the investigation.” “You just got out of hospital, give yourself some time.” Rude counsels, putting a hand on Reno's skinny shoulder. Reno shrugs him off, sending him a sharp look over his shoulder. Rude lets his hand fall back to his side, “Get back too soon and you'll hurt yourself. What good would you be then?” “I know.” Reno snaps irritably, grinding his teeth, “But I wanna be out there...doing something. Anything. Take my damn mind off of-” He cuts himself off, sucking his teeth before sighing and slumping his shoulders. “Tseng's been avoiding me. Haven't seen him since I got out.” “He's...busy.” Rude hedges, seeing Reno's brows draw down into a sharp frown. “Bullshit.” Reno spits, “I went to his place an' he never answered his fucking door, yo.” Rude's had his suspicions about Reno's relationship with Tseng but he's never voiced them aloud. Tseng's always been closed off, he rarely socialises with the rest of them. When they do manage to convince him to get a drink with them he has only one and then leaves, usually with Reno trailing after him. He hasn't heard all the details of their time in captivity but Rude can guess much of what happened. Tseng's lack of wounds and Reno's terrible state spoke for themselves. The only person who can say they know Tseng is probably Veld and he's not talking. “Maybe he's in the office?” Reno hums, pushing himself away from the glass, “Let's get a coffee, yo. Catch me up on the gossip.” He slinks away towards a nearby vending machine, Rude watches him go a moment before shaking his head and following. Generally the Turks keep to themselves, avoiding the other departments and being avoided in turn. People don't go out of their way to involve themselves with the Investigation department, fear holds them back. It gives Reno and Rude plenty of space as they take some seats and those few nearby beat a hasty retreat, leaving unfinished coffee behind. Reno stretches long legs out with a sigh, sipping his drink while Rude picks up a discarded magazine. A photo of Scarlet on the front, posing with a small smirk on her painted lips. Reno scoffs, shaking his head at the picture as Rude drops it back to the table. Reno puts his boots on it and crosses his ankles. “Press like her a little too much, yo.” “They don't know her.” Rude says quietly, leaning back in his seat and feeling eyes on them from all over the room. He picks lint from the cuff of his trousers. “She destroyed another lab again. Sent several security grunts to the hospital.” “You mean Hojo's table?” Reno corrects under his breath. Rude shrugs, “Who knows?” “You remember old Charlie?” Reno asks suddenly, eyeing his partner from beneath his fringe as it dangles over a brand new pair of goggles. “Guy from Urban Dev?” “Yeah, him. Nurses were sayin' he's been canned, yo.” Rude considers for a moment, “Why? He was just an old man.” Reno shrugs, one hand rising and fingers splayed, “Dunno. Maybe too old? The nurses were saying he was caught with some illegal material on his computer.” “Sounds like fake news,” Rude says slowly, running a gloved hand over his bald head, “We would've known about something like that. He was nearing retirement, right? They probably made up some bullshit so they don't have to pay him a pension.” “Yeah,” Reno sighs, tipping his head back so he stares up at the ceiling. His fingers tap lightly against the can of coffee resting on his leg. “Did you get the flowers?” Rude asks suddenly, taking Reno a little off-guard as he loses himself in his own thoughts. Reno blinks, turning his head to eye his partner. “From Aerith?” Rude nods, “She sent them with her regards.” “What does she know?” “Only that you weren't gonna be on duty for a while...but you know her, she knew more than she was tellin' even if we never gave her anything.” Reno relaxes back into the seat, leather creaking beneath him. He runs the tip of his finger around the sharp edge of the can in his hand, “She alright?” “Last I saw her she was with those orphans. Seemed happy enough.” “Good. Maybe I'll go see her.” Rude hums in agreement, watching a group of secretaries sit nearby and laugh. “Tseng's been down there a few times now.” Reno sips, “He'll go see her but-” He cuts himself off again, lifting a hand to his eyes and rubbing at them with a heavy groan. “Shit man.” “How much coffee you had today?” “Not enough.” Reno replies, staring into his nearly empty drink. “You sleeping?” “I'm fine, yo. Quit it.” Rude falls silent, frowning. Reno's hands shake almost imperceptibly as he finishes his drink and tosses the can in the vague direction of the trash. It catches on the rim and falls to the floor with a muted thud. He leans back again, both hands behind his head. For all intents and purposes he looks relaxed, like he's simply taking a break from the daily grind of the office...but Rude knows him too well. He can see the lines of tension in his shoulders and jaw, he can see that his eyes open a crack. He's hyper vigilant. Too aware of everything going on around him. Rude leans forward, arms resting on his knees and hands clasped between them. “Maybe...” he pauses, knowing what he's about to suggest will go down about as well as a tonne of bricks, “Maybe you should go see Doctor Thomas like the Chief suggested.” Reno hisses air through his teeth, “Fuck off. I'm not seein' a god damned shrink. I'm fine.” He sits up, leg bouncing as he grips the edge of the sofa in a white knuckled grip. “You were tortured for days, Reno. God knows what else they did-” “Shut your goddamned mouth.” Reno spits, leaping to his feet and glaring at Rude. “I'll deal with this on my own. You're not my nanny...I outrank you.” Rude takes his venom calmly, hands still clasped between his knees. Finally he shrugs, “It was just a suggestion.” Reno shakes his head, dragging both hands through his spiky red hair before he walks away. XXX Tseng returns to his apartment to find Reno sitting by his door. A dark stain on the hall way carpet as he drinks from a bottle in his hand. “Reno,” Tseng says, surprised. “Yo,” Reno gives Tseng a small salute and holds out the bottle, shaking it enticingly, “Wan' some?” Tseng shakes his head, “You're drunk.” “Chief's taken me off rotation, what else am I 'sposed to do?” “Recover.” Tseng puts his keycard into the slot and his door slides open. Reno scrabbles to his feet and hovers beside him. “What are you doing here?” Tseng asks finally, turning around and using his body to block entrance to his rooms. “Came to see you. Been waiting a while.” Reno mutters, the scent of cheap whisky clinging to his breath. He leans against the wall. “Go home, Reno.” Tseng insists firmly, waving a hand down the hall where Reno's own apartment is. “Nope.” Reno pops the 'p' sound and smirks, “You ain't getting rid of me that easy, boss.” Tseng's nose wrinkles as Reno leans closer, he's not sure if it's a deliberate move or if he's slowly losing his balance. Finally Tseng reaches out, pushing him in the chest so he stumbles back. “Leave. I have a lot to do.” “What the hell did I do, yo?” Reno asks suddenly, the words leave him in an explosive breath. Tseng straightens, turning his back, “Nothing. You just need to sit tight and heal, soon you'll be back in the field.” Reno licks his lips, shaking his head, “So...you're really gonna do this? Why am I being punished for tryin' to save your ass?” “Reno-” “No. No this is...this is bullshit, yo! I don't know what I did to piss you off but all this cold shouldering isn't gonna help. If I did somethin' wrong then you gotta tell me.” “You didn't do anything.” Tseng sighs, shaking his head slowly. He pauses, hand on the door and stares at it, “It's me. I'm the problem.” He admits reluctantly, turning to look back at Reno's stunned face. “I let you get hurt.” Reno stands unnaturally still for a moment. His eyes are the only thing animated as the silence stretches on. Finally he stirs, dragging his heel across the carpet, “Huh.” He says, pushing unruly hair from his eyes, “You're blaming yourself?” Tseng doesn't answer. His silence is enough. “Why? You didn't ask me to do that. In fact, you did the opposite. I was the idiot who thought I could help.” He slumps against the wall, messy suit riding up on one side to reveal a slither of skin. He takes another swig from whatever piss is in his bottle before rubbing at his eyes, “I just made everything worse.” Tseng hesitates before stepping back away from his door, it hisses closed. “Come.” He says, nodding his head down the long corridor towards the elevator at the end. “Where?” “Training room. You need to blow off some steam and so do I.” Tseng pockets his key card again and starts off, Reno trotting at his heels.

[angelsfalling16]

Matching Costumes

Part Four of my Halloween Ficlets

Summary: You have literally dressed as a pirate/princess/dragon/whatever for the last 8 years in a row don’t you think it’s time to switch it up? AU

Word Count: 791

A/N: This is basically an alternate universe where Simon and Baz got together at Christmas during seventh year, and there's no Humdrum, so their final year at Watford is relatively normal. (And they have a Halloween party at Watford every year!)

Read it on ao3

***

Baz

“Are you really going to dress as a vampire again?” Simon asks, leaning back against the wall beside his bed.

We’re sitting in our shared room discussing the Halloween party that’s in two days, and I have just informed him of what I plan to dress up as.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit on the nose?”

“No one has seemed to figure it out yet.”

“I did.”

“That’s because you followed me around all the time. I would have been surprised if you hadn’t figured it out.”

“I only followed you to find out what you were up to.”

“Sure, Snow. Keep telling yourself that.” I’m smiling as I say it.

We’ve had this same argument many times before, especially after we got together last Christmas. The only difference now is that there’s no heat to it. We’re just teasing each other.

I still can’t believe Simon had no idea he had feelings for me. Or that I had them for him. He thinks that I should have figured out his feelings before he did, and maybe he’s right. He was pretty much obsessed with me. But I guess I felt that it would have been wishful thinking on my part.

“Don’t you think that for our first Halloween as a couple, our costumes should be coordinated?” Simon asks.

“You could dress as a vampire hunter again,” I suggest. “Then we’d match.”

“I did that just to get a rise out of you. And it worked,” he adds. “I want to do something different.”

“You could be a vampire. You’ve never done that.”

“Hmm. That could work. I could go as you for Halloween.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I say in a rush. The way he said it makes it sound like a terrible idea.

“No, I think it’s a great idea.” He’s grinning, and I can practically see the plan forming in his mind.

I don’t think that I’m going to like whatever it is that he comes up with.

***

On Halloween, the dining hall has been completely transformed for the Halloween party that we have every year. Most of the tables have been removed except for the ones that line that wall for people to sit if they don’t feel like dancing.

Simon said that he would meet me here, and I feel a little weird, standing alone by the wall. I almost wish Dev and Niall were here so that I would have someone to talk to, but they chose to skip the part and just eat candy in their room.

I’m sure that’s not the only thing they’re getting up to in their room, but who am I to judge? I’d be doing the same thing with Simon if he hadn’t looked so excited to come to the party together.

When Simon walks in, I have to do a double take because he’s almost unrecognizable. He’s wearing a pair of my black trousers, paired with a withe button up. The top two buttons are undone, exposing his pale, freckled chest, and even though I’m too far away to see it, I can imagine the mole that should be visible just below his collar bone, just above his heart.

He’s also wearing a wig, which I’m sure was Bunce’s doing. It’s slicked back, just the way that I wear mine, and it looks absolutely ridiculous on him. But it also looks good.

When he sees me, he walks over to meet me, and I can see how pale he looks. Simon is already pale, but now he looks ghostly.

“What do you think?”

“You look nice.”

He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Just like you, right?”

“If you say so.”  He actually kind of does, in a very Simon way.

Simon eats the snacks that we were provided, and we sit together at a table for while until I finally get up the nerve 

He shrugs. “Sure.”

I frown at him as we stand. He holds out a hand, but I hesitate to take it.

“You haven’t smiled since we got here. Is something wrong?”

He shakes his head forlornly. “I’m being a brooding vampire, just like you every day of the year.”

It takes me a moment to understand.

“You’re pretending to be upset.”

“I’m pretending to be you, and you always seem so upset.”

“Not with you,” I say quietly, following him out to the dance floor.

He immediately pulls me into his arms, and even though it’s not a slow song playing, we mostly just sway in place.

“Do you hate it?” He asks after a while, his breath ghosting across my ear and making me shiver. “The costume I mean.”

“No. I love it.” I really do.

“Why?”

“Because we match.”

[arcanaivette]

Lucio Ramblings

With the impending promise of new routes (I am so thirsty for Muriel holy hell), I have been giving a lot of thought to Lucio’s Route.

Now, I know a LOT of the fandom love him (who doesn't love to hate THAT BITCH). And hell, I am A SUCKER for The Villain gets Redeemed romance tropes. But I have some...concerns.

SPOILERS and criticisms below, I will try not be harsh, just pointing things out I am curious to see how it will be handled. I am not attempting to start discourse, just sending some thoughts out into the void for friendly discussion if anyone wants.

So having played through the main three’s routes, and reading Muriel’s and Lucio’s Tales (I’ve unfortunately not been terribly lucky with the new Heart Hunter post cards T-T), I am really not sure how the devs are going to write Lucio’s romance without excusing away some REALLY LEGITIMATELY terrible things Lucio has done.

Again, don’t get me wrong; I love Lucio’s character, and I’m actually really curious and excited to see what they do, but there’s a few things I’m not sure how they’re going to get around and I really hope they get handled well so I can actually love this beautiful asshole.

1. Lucio straight up committed patricide.

     And subsequently attempted to commit matricide as well. And not even in any sort of “honorable” way according to his clan’s traditions. He made a deal with a DEMON in order to WEAKEN them enough so he could easily kill them and FEED THE DEMON THEIR HEARTS! And as a result, since he did not give the demon what was promised, has been trailing this horrific plague of beetles behind him, not seeming to care what it does to the people it effects. We don’t know much more about his parents save for what we see in his very short tale, so they both could’ve been horrifically evil people deserving of that sort of death, but as of right now Lucio comes out of this backstory looking cowardly AND sleazy as hell.

2. Lucio was a marauder and a mercenary.

    After he flees his failed attempt at usurping his mother, we know (vaguely, I think the Wiki talks more about it than the game itself? I’d love more!) he struck out as a sword for hire/marauder of the surrounding areas. Not that mercenaries are BAD, persay, but they are...well, mercenary. They don’t exactly fight for a single cause, good or bad. They fight for themselves, sometimes at the expense of innocent people. Hell, in Asra’s route, we know he used the plague of beetles following in his wake as a means to try and extort goods from helpless villagers. In other words, Lucio learned NOTHING from his failed coup, and instead continues to run from his horrible mistake, leaving destruction in his path.

3. The state of Vesuvia is crumbling.

     In the current timeline, the city looks to be recovering very slowly from the wake of the plague 3 years prior, which according to Julian and Nadia, killed people by the HUNDREDS. Whole sections of the city were left to fall apart and rot. Not to mention, with Nadia being in her coma like sleep, the Courtiers pretty much ignored their duties to the city and left it to rot. However, even before that, Lucio is noted, especially in Julian’s route, for not being particularly proactive in the city’s upkeep or the well being of its lower class citizens. In Nadia’s route, it comes to light he pretty much expected her pick up the entire weight of the city’s issues and problems while he could sit back and party. Hell, Lucio didn’t even REALLY seem to start worrying about the Red Plague till HE contracted it, then becoming desperate for a way to stave off his impending death. Maybe Lucio wasn’t a tyrant, but at best he was a neglectful and selfish ruler, resulting in problems and consequences still felt long after his “death”.

4. Lucio manipulated, tricked and coerced to keep people in his control.

    This one is probably the one that, for me at least, will be the hardest to overlook. Lucio, much like the Devil, uses people’s connections to loved ones as a means to control them and keep them obedient. He tricks Asra’s parents and imprisons them, leaving them at the hands of the Devil and subsequently forcing them to abandon young Asra, thinking they were saving him in doing so. He uses Asra and Muriel’s friendship to indebt both of them to him, threatening the safety of the other while not telling the former they were also in his thrall. More will no doubt be revealed in Muriel’s route, but judging by how angry and terrified Muriel seems of all things Lucio, and how much Asra LOATHES him, they were both no doubt asked to do awful things in Lucio’s employ, thinking they were doing it for the other (Asra even confesses to you that you would never believe the many awful things he’d done under Lucio’s rule). Nadia, when she first met Lucio, was still young and desperate to prove she wasn’t just the baby of her sisters. It’s pretty vague, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have used that desperation to be independent as a means to manipulate her into being his wife, probably telling her of the wonderful opportunities she’d have to use her intelligence and skills to improve the many issues plaguing Vesuvia.

All I’m saying is, Luciois problematic. EXTREMELY problematic. All the characters have their flaws, they need them to be relatable and show growth. But Lucio has the sort of issues that are REALLY difficult to forgive even for the best of characters. I’m not saying it’s IMPOSSIBLE, but it’s gonna take some really interesting circumstances for me to see him as redeemable, and I for one hope to see it done well.

I’m confident in the devs, of course. The writing in this game is amazingly solid, especially for a visual novel. And, frankly, as much of a shit as he is, I REALLY like Lucio, a lot. So I really want to see what they do with all of these things.

If I got anything wrong, or missed something, but all means, reply! I’d love to start a discussion on this!