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uh-oh-howd-i-get-here · 4 years ago

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After All This Time (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Part 2

I went ahead and wrote the second chapter, I was so excited. I did a lot of research on PTSD and the triggers. I may not have a full grasp on it, but I hope I at least got some of it right. I feel kinda iffy on writing the characters, but I did my best to stay true to who they are. I hope you like this chapter!

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, violence, yelling. Talks about triggers and PTSD. Mentions of death and killing. If there are any that I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 2,492

Part 1

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

“Steve, I don’t understand why you’re dragging me out here to this museum.”

“They told me that they made a new addition to the Captain America exhibit and I didn’t want to go alone.”

Bucky clenched his vibranium hand and continued to follow Steve. “Did they at least tell you what it’s about?”

Steve sighed, “No, they didn’t. I wish they had though, I hate going into these things blind. Who knows what they’ve dug up.

“Steve, did you find it?”

“Uh, yeah Buck. I don’t think you want to see it though. It’s something they had no business digging in”

“What is it Steve. And don’t even think of lying to me, I know you too well.”

Steve sighed and led Bucky to the new exhibit. A memorial just like Bucky’s, but it was dedicated to Y/N L/N.

Bucky scoffed but read it out loud anyways. “Y/N L/N was a childhood friend of both Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Y/N met the two in 1923 and they were close ever since. In 1941 record says that she became engaged to Sargent Barnes, but never married. Y/N was drafted as an Army Nurse but died in Germany in 1944.” A picture of her before the war and in a case were her dog tags, which was weird. If she hadn’t been found, how were her tags here.

Bucky trailed off, the rest just going on about what kind of person she was. They stood in silence for a while, both staring at her picture. Steve finally broke the silence, “How much of her do you remember?”

Bucky looked away and tried to remember the girl in front of him. Flashes of smiles, tears, and laughter floated through his head, but he could only focus on one memory.

“I don’t remember her before the war.” Steve’s head moved to look at Bucky so fast that his neck cracked.

“What do you mean before the war Buck.”

He looked at Steve and backed up until he could collapse on a bench. A deep breath then, “I remember seeing her when I was the Winter Soldier. I vaguely remember a mission, maybe a couple, and then an order. I couldn’t help myself. All I could do was watch as I choked her to death, them dragging her away after declaring her dead.”

He shook his head as if he could erase the memory, make it disappear to never see again.

“If you killed her-“ Steve paused, “If you went on missions with her then she didn’t die in 1944. She was captured by Hydra. Then there could be a possibility that she, well that she could still be alive. Could it be possible that it was staged? Buck is there any chance at all that she could still be alive?”

Bucky shook his head again and looked at his hands. “I felt it Steve, I felt her neck crush. There’s no way she survived that.”

He took a deep sigh and felt the world shift, his heart plummeted to the ground as he realized the full gravity of what happened. “Oh god. Oh god, I killed her. I killed my fiancé, Steve.”

Steve just sat down next to Bucky, still in shock. She had been a good friend to Steve. They had come from similar backgrounds, hell they had grown up together, she understood him in a way that Bucky never could have at the time. She had been there when needed and even when she wasn’t. A ray of sunshine in a dreary New York. He had taken a picture of them after Bucky had proposed. They were all so happy.

It shook Steve to his core that Hydra had gotten their hands on her. He couldn’t imagine the horrors that she had gone through, might still be going through much like his best friend. Was she as much of a shell as Bucky?

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

It felt good to walk into her apartment without having to break in. She had hassled every office and bank that had her name in its databases to get her back as a registered live, human being. And to get electricity and water going to her place.

She had already been living in the apartment, but now she could cook, light a fire, and make noise. With her accounts opened again, she bought a couple pairs of clothes to wear while she cleaned the place.

Starting with the kitchen she cleaned every surface, threw away all the canned food that had been left behind.

By the time she had finished cleaning, she was physically exhausted, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep in the master bedroom. She had managed to turn off her emotions for the day. No tears had been spilled because there had been work to get done. But her new superpower didn’t work now that she had nothing to do. Y/N stood in the middle of the living room desperately trying to stuff her emotions back into the box they had been in, but they had seen their chance and taken it.

Tears filled her eyes and she took her first real look around the place she had once called home. It was like she had never left at all. A place for everything and everything in its place. She turned to face the worn leather wingback. The thick blanket draped over the back just like it always had. She shuffled over to the chair and sat down in it. The leather was cold but familiar with the smell of her life before the war. Ghosts of days past floated through the air around her. She curled up in the chair, thick blanket pulled over her.

Things had been so easy then, and it would be so easy now to just fall back into that time when everything was perfect. Except the person that had helped make it perfect wasn’t here. A tear fell from her cheek onto the leather, and she quickly brushed it off not wanting to ruin the chair.

As she was wallowing in self-pity, a fight broke out on the street below her window, voices piercing the air and pulling her back to a place she never wanted to go again.

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

Project Cecilia had become a nightmare. A nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. The project was a testing ground of trial and error. They tested the trial serums, triggers, enforcers, and everything else to make sure that they wouldn’t damage whoever took the role of Winter Soldier. The project was named after the scientist who did most of the testing.

The serums were bad, it felt like lighting her blood on fire, like hell itself was inside her. But trigger testing was far worse. For every test or experiment, a trigger experiment came after. Is sound more effective than smell? Are words better than sounds? What kind of words work better than others?

Trial and error for over 30 different types of triggers until they settled on a list of words that would mean something to the Winter Soldier. Her mind was blocked off so carefully that she couldn’t remember anything before the last trigger.

Here she was, testing how much electricity a super soldier could take before things started to shut down. And then the doctor walked in. Constantine Cecilia was the man who haunted her dreams. She couldn’t ever quite remember who he was, but somehow she knew that when he arrived, things would be bad.

“How is our little rabbit doing today? I believe a congratulations are in order, you finished testing.”

He put on plastic gloves and his assistant walked up to them both. “She’s due for sound this time.”

The doctor smiled. “Good good.”

Things were going well; the set-up went smoothly. She was ready to receive the trigger, the thing her mind would take as a trauma to seal away all of the bad.

But then a fight broke out, and then people were yelling, screaming at each other. The trigger was set.

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

Shuri had done her best at getting rid of the physical effect of the triggers, and by best, she was completely successful. Unfortunately, there was still an emotional effect that came with the triggers. Certain smells, sounds, colors, and even sometimes emotions would send her spiraling into a memory. Most were memories that terrified her, they brought her back to Hydra and their torture. Some were good, like remembering life before the war.

They happened less at home, surrounded by memories of a past that never hurt. The outside world was what tortured her. Going outside was like sentencing herself to relive the worst of her life.

And she remembered it all. Hydra had done such a good job of playing Tetris with her brain that every time that Shuri released a trigger, she remembered everything. Y/N bet that Dr. Cecilia was laughing in his grave at her tragedy.

Y/N fell asleep under the thick blanket on the chair of the man she had loved more than anything else in the whole world.

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

Y/N decided to visit the Veterans Center, hoping that they magically had the cure for what Shuri called PTSD. She walked inside and was met with the smell of burnt coffee and laughter down the hall. She followed the noise until she came to what looked like a break room, or a very poor excuse for a kitchen.

A tall man took notice of her and he excused himself to go talk to her.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I, uhh, came here to talk to someone, hopefully.” Y/N cursed herself for feeling so small. She was a veteran after all. She just fought in a different war.

“Are you a vet?”

“Yes?”

He smiled, “Well then welcome. My name is Sam Wilson. I help run this place. Mostly I work with the people though. Business isn’t really my style.”

Y/N gave a weak smile.

Sam spoke up again, much to her relief. “Why don’t we go somewhere to talk so we aren’t standing in a door way.”

She merely nodded and followed Sam to a room with foldable chairs and a couple beat up sofas.

After they had sat down, and awkward silence filled the air. Sam cleared his throat, “So what’s your name?”

Y/N took a deep breath and “My name is Y/N”

Sam nodded. “What war did you serve in Y/N?”

She froze, of course she could just answer him. She heard there was a whole museum dedicated to the two oldest people on the planet, so why was it so hard?

“You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with it. I’m not going to force you into anything here. It’s a safe place.” The genuinely caring smile on his face helped her relax.

“I fought in World War II.”

Sam looked startled for a second. “Excuse me?”

“I was a nurse with the Red Cross in World War II.”

She watched as Sam’s shoulders dropped. Y/N prepared to fight, to tell him that it was true, without going through the horrors that she had witnessed. She prepared to give him the riot act like she had for every person who hadn’t believed her at the bank and social security office.

Instead, he started laughing. “Man, I wonder how many more of you there are out there,” Sam said between breaths.

The look of confusion on her face must have put more puzzle pieces together for him at how lost she really was.

“You… You actually believe me?”

“Yeah I do! I work with the other two.”

She suddenly felt cold, like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. While Shuri had told her about James, or Bucky, and about Steve and how they both lived in New York in the Avengers Compound, it had never occurred to her that they were so close. So close, yet so far away. Her heart dropped.

“How exactly do you know them? You said you worked with them, so you must be an Avenger I suppose.”

“How much do you know about this time and place?”

She felt, for the first time since she left Wakanda, that someone understood. Only a fraction maybe, but an understanding all the same. Sam somehow knew that she didn’t know much about the present she found herself in. She didn’t really care to learn either though, the world was scary, and she had to face it alone for the first time in her life.

“Not much. I’ve only been off ice for about 9 and a half months now. Most of that was spent in Wakanda, while Shuri worked on getting rid of my triggers.” The more she talked the more Sam’s face filled with understanding and horror and that scared her.

“You were captured by Hydra weren’t you?”

All she could do was nod, her head held low.

“I won’t ask about that. I know better than that. I can’t even begin to imagine the horrors you’ve been through.

“Well, I’m the Falcon, I fly and I see things really well with my goggles. Other than that I’m just a human, no serum or anything.”

It was like all she could do was nod her head, she had been robbed of words.

“Would it be ok if I went home?”

“Of course! Nothing is keeping you here. I’m glad we met, and you’re more than welcome to come by anytime at all. We do close at 9 pm, but here’s my phone number if you need anything after those hours.”

More nodding. Y/N rushed home.

The first thing she did was climb into the chair, drape the blanket over her, and tell a ghost of what happened.

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

“Sam are you ok? You seem distracted today”

“Yeah. Yeah man I’m good.” Sam looked at Steve for a minute. “Say have you ever met someone named Y/N L/N? She came into the VA today and when I asked what war she fought in she said WWII. She was captured by Hydra. I didn’t press her on it, she got that same look that Bucky does when it gets brought up.”

Steve froze. “What was her name?”

“Y/N L/N, do you know her?”

“Are you sure about what you told me?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

“What did she look like?”

“She had H/L hair and E/C eyes. She was about yay-tall” Sam held up a hand to about her height. “Again, do you know her?”

“I promise I’ll tell you later, but I gotta go.”

Steve took off running through the compound until he got to Bucky’s door. He hadn’t seen Bucky since the museum, but this was important. He pounded on the door, “Buck! Bucky! Open the door!”

A quiet mumbled “Go away Steve” came as a response.

“Bucky,” Steve pleaded. “She’s alive. Sam met her today.”

Silence.

Then the door opened. “Where?”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fic #mcu #x reader #x female reader #marvel #marvel imagine #bucky barnes au #reader insert #mcu imagine #marvel universe #the avengers

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feelingofcontent · 4 years ago

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DNP Rewatch: PARANORMAL ACTIVITY

Date video was published: 10/17/2009 (X)

DNP Main Channel Rewatch: 49

0:02 - Phil’s locations are always on the floor, haha. This one will become pretty familiar though while he’s living at his parents’ house.

0:05 - messy room is unsurprising at this point

0:07 - “we’re gonna redecorate” - as far as I know this doesn’t happen while Phil is still living and making videos there

0:15 - lion hasn’t been missing from that many videos, but probably there were more it was missing from in early October that are deleted now

0:18 - also somehow unsurprising that Phil could lose something in his own room

0:22 - it’s Blue hair all over again

0:33 - Phil really has a thing about ghosts/haunted/paranormal stuff and that hasn’t stopped even today

0:36 - got to throw in the 2 frame horror movies scream insert!

0:41 - could it not just be...dust? lol 🤐

0:47 - briefly forgetting the word for torches, alrighty

0:59 - Phil used to do the speed-up voice thing a lot when he had quite a bit to say and wanted to keep the video short (I assume?)

1:05-1:11 - okay, let’s talk about this part because I have probably too many thoughts about it

First of all, I could have sworn I remembered this part being in a video he made after he had met Dan in person, but I was wrong. It’s in this last video before he meets Dan.

I think Phil is being really honest here, more than he sometimes is. You can tell he’s been thinking a lot about the future and worrying about it since finishing uni.

“and everything seems to be falling into place” - he’s drawn a (1) smiley face, (2) heart, and (3) dollar sign. So Phil seems to be happy at the moment, which is nice since he had seemed to be stressed about his life/future/job hunting. The heart is just...yeah. 🥺 The sweetest thing. And honestly, for (3) I’m just like why did he draw a dollar sign $ instead of the pound sign ₤? lol.

“In September, I had no idea where my life was going at all.” - September was less than a month ago at this point, so it seems like a few things changed pretty fast for Phil.

“and now I’m kind of...on the second tetris block” - I love this line so much. It explains his feelings in such a “Phil�� way. (And shoutout to one of my favorite fics, the second tetris block by @alittledizzy that this line always makes me think of. Read it if you haven’t; it’s fantastic!)

I just really love this part of the video. Okay, moving on.

1:16 - even Phil knows he doesn’t blink much. I wonder how many early comments he got about that.

1:26 - annnnnd a 180 from the serious topic earlier. what is this. with a sparkle effect no less, lol.

1:34 - he tweeted about this spider thing, yikes (much earlier in the month, if he’s talking about the same time)

1:38 - THE CORDLESS HAMMER DRILL. get ready for this to continue to come up in videos for a while. seems less dangerous than the hand saw at least.

1:49 - awww, poor Phil and his dad not understanding his lack of interest/desire for tools

1:56 - I really hope he didn’t eat those.

2:04 - it’s the WALLE that will be coming back in PINOF 😊

2:05 - we haven’t had a “weird person” story in a while!

The lions clip at the end of this one is sweet, with lion and lioness being separated and then coming together (am I going to start reading way to much into these lion clips? yes, yes I am.)

This is another of my favorite 2009 Phil videos. It’s got a lot of “classic” Phil stuff like the weird person story, showing random items, a couple of animal noises/horror movie elements thrown in... But he’s also very honest and real in the middle, and I like that side of Phil.

#dan and phil #dnp #dnpRewatch #amazingphil #phil lester #amazingphil videos #PARANORMAL ACTIVITY

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gondowan · 4 years ago

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Darling, Dearest, Dead

Pairing: Matsukawa Issei/Hanamaki Takahiro

Issei thinks he really should get a straight answer from Takahiro about his three dead husbands, but it’s really hard to think when said person of interest- the one he’s had feelings for since high school- is sucking his soul out through his cock.

Tags/Warnings: mutual pining. happy ending. post-time skip. confessions. blow jobs. two idiots in love. this is kind of angsty but has a fluffy happy ending i promise lol. I’m all about The Yearning you know?. oc death off-screen.

Word Count: 4,084

Notes: I set out to write a pwp but ended up with 4k words of feels?

The television is on in Matsukawa Issei’s tiny office at Peaceful Hills Funeral Home. Space is always a premium at a mortician’s, more so if you’re the owner and sole employee of said funeral home, trying to get it to stay afloat. It’s not like Matsukawa can just stack the dead on top of each other, or tetris them to create more space, no. Doing so would be disrespectful. When Matsukawa isn’t busy attending to family members of the recently deceased or embalming, he does all of his paperwork in a tiny, cramped fire hazard of a broom closet, with the television as his sole companion. Matsukawa never minded silence, but well, when you’re surrounded by dead bodies, sometimes you just need a little background noise.

His cigarette is lit between his lips, rapidly turning into ash as he stares blankly at the television, enraptured by the story unfolding in front of him.

POLICE CITE NATURAL CAUSES IN DEATH OF SHIPPING MAGNATE YOSHIOKA HIDEKI.

Yoshioka Hideki, owner of Yoshioka Shipping International, aged 54, husband to Yoshioka Takahiro, nee Hanamaki, Matsukawa’s best friend and the love of his life. As soon as they graduated, Hanamaki had packed his bags for Tokyo, citing an urge to get out there and just try out life in the big city. Matsukawa stayed behind in Miyagi, finished college, and completed his mortician apprenticeship, the first of many milestones in his adult life, alone. Oikawa had gone to Argentina, chasing his dreams of volleyball. Iwaizumi, although he would never admit it, was doing his best to position himself to cross Oikawa’s path again.

In the cold bitter nights when Matsukawa is behind on work and pulling long hours, he always thought Hanamaki would be there by his side, but he pushes those thoughts away. No amount of regret ever changed the past, no amount of wishing ever changed the future.

If he’s happy, that’s good enough for Matsukawa.

---

The first time Hanamaki told Matsukawa he was engaged was when he was visiting Tokyo to see him, a year after Hanamaki had moved. Matsukawa thought they were going to hang out, just like old times, so when he opens the door of the fancy apartment (how did Takahiro afford all this?) and an older man answers the door, Matsukawa puts two and two together. He attends their elopement as their only witness, feeling the dual bitterness of losing someone and mourning the friendship he thought they shared.

The second time, Hanamaki casually drops the news over the phone as Matsukawa is signing a contract. He falters, and ink splatters over the page. He’ll have to reprint it and start over. This time, Hanamaki elopes in Bali, and although he extends Matsukawa an invitation, Matsukawa knows better than to go.

The third time, Matsukawa finds out via the news.

---

“You either need to tell him or get over it,” Iwaziumi says, stubbing out his cigarette in the tray between them, ever the realist.

“That’s rich coming from you, Hajime.” Matsukawa sneers. He doesn’t mean to be rude to Iwaizumi, the man has been there for him for so long and is really only verbalizing what Matsukawa knows on the inside, but he can’t help it. “Let me know when you tell Oikawa how you feel.”

“I’m about to, actually.” Iwaizumi says, crossing his arms with a sigh. “I’m headed to Argentina soon. I’m going to tell him.”

Matsukawa is stunned. He figured Iwaizumi would’ve preferred to evaporate on the spot rather than admit his feelings to Oikawa. “I...I’m happy for you,” he whispers, “I know he feels the same.”

“We’ll see won’t we?” the shorter man says, an undercurrent of nervousness in his voice, a fond look on his face.

The two get married the following year, a beautiful ceremony on the Argentine beach surrounded by family and friends new and old. The ceremony has an added effect of bringing Hanamaki back into Matsukawa’s life, and they rekindle their friendship over a series of extremely alcoholic margaritas and questionable decisions in the hot Argentine nights. Matsukawa will take what he can get, because Hanamaki seems happy with Yoshioka-san, and as long as Makki is happy, Matsukawa can learn to be too. That acknowledgement doesn’t do anything to fill the hole in his soul, but it does soften the pain just a little. Hanamaki never talks about his husband or anything related to his romantic life past or present, and Matsukawa doesn’t ask. Ignorance is bliss.

---

Matsukawa’s cell rings, disturbing his reverie. He doesn’t even look at the screen before answering.

“Yoshioka-san.” he murmurs, as if it doesn’t hurt each time he has to call the love of his life by another man’s name.

“It’s back to Hanamaki now, Issei”, the voice on the other end of the line is cheerful, playful even for someone who just became a widower for the third time.

“I…” Matsukawa falters and the condolences he had prepared dies on his lips. Hanamaki always had (and continues to have) the stunning ability to catch Matsukawa off-guard. When they would play three-on-three practice games at Seijoh, Hanamaki always gave Matsukawa the most trouble. And just like that, Matsukawa slips back into his old ways, Hanamaki’s name rolling off his tongue like it belongs there, if only he would let him. “Takahiro...how are you doing?”.

---

It’s quite difficult to surprise a mortician in regards to anything having to do with death and dying, but from over a thousand miles away, Hanamaki manages to do just that.

“Let me get this straight, you want to ship the body to Miyagi, again?” Matsukawa sputters. He’s on his third cigarette of the phone call, and there’s too much information for him to process—the death of his best friend’s third spouse, the feelings he’s never addressed, the hurt that’s simmered in the back of his mind that Hanamaki left Miyagi, it’s a lot. I should’ve gone to therapy, the wayward thought has floated in Matsukawa’s mind, but he’s still not ready to face the music.

“Makki, people are going to think that you’re offing these people to help support your best friend’s funeral home.” he jokes.

The question from the last two times lingering on his lips, “You didn’t...have anything to do with their deaths did you?”

The pause before Hanamaki answers stretches a little too long for Matsukawa to be comfortable with.

“Isn’t that what friends are for?” Hanamaki finally says, completely sidestepping the question, the teasing tone in his voice still very at odds with the current circumstances, “Anyways, I’ve arranged for the body to be flown overnight to Miyagi, you just need to pick it up at the regional airport. We can talk about additional arrangements and such after you pick it up.”

“Makki I don’t—”

“Please, Issei?” he pleads, and Matsukawa gives, like he always does.

---

It’s raining softly as Matsukawa parks his car at the airport, the clammy yellow lighting reflecting off the new wax job he had just gotten. While he would’ve liked to drive a flashier car around, a van is just easier for all the transport he has to do, and the hearse is really only used for special occasions (and draws too many eyes). It’s not as if he’s driving dates around anyway or has anyone to impress, so discreet soccer mom van it is.

He checks the time and walks into the lobby. It’s usually a straightforward task, picking up a corpse from an airport. Matsukawa just needs to show the proper ID and his mortician’s license, check that the body is properly labeled and identified (wouldn’t want to take the wrong body back), and load it onto a gurney. If he’s lucky the body has been refrigerated, if not, well, hopefully the recently deceased Yoshioka-san is in an airtight container.

The woman at the Peach Airlines counter looks way too peppy for the hour of day. She confirms his ID and walks into the office to retrieve the container. Matsukawa excuses himself to use the bathroom, and when he walks out, the body has been brought out.

What Matsukawa doesn’t expect however, is the man waiting beside the casket. His breath catches as he allows himself to savor the view in front of him. Hanamaki is dressed simply in a black coat and patterned slacks, looking more formal than Matsukawa has ever seen, strawberry brown hair cut neatly in a way that frames his face perfectly. There are some lines in the corner of his eyes that weren’t there before. Hanamaki is a vision in the dim light of the airport, even as he shifts awkwardly next to his deceased husband’s casket.

It’s 10 PM Japan Standard Time on a cold rainy autumn night, and Matsukawa is still in love.

Thankfully, he manages to compose himself before Hanamaki spots him, and his face breaks out in the most beautiful smile that Matsukawa has ever seen. Before Matsukawa can say anything, Hanamaki folds him into a hug. There’s a strange desperation there that Issei has never seen in Takahiro before, he can feel the tension radiating off the other man’s body, in the way that his hands clench at Matsukawa’s coat. Grief? Relief? Matsukawa isn’t sure.

After a long minute, Hanamaki finally releases him, his hand lingering on Matsukawa’s waist for just a tad longer than appropriate. “I missed you,” Matsukawa says simply, unsure of how else to vocalize the well of emotions he’s gone through the past few years, everything he’s wanted to say but could never find the right time to. I’ve missed you so much it hurts. I’m so in love with you. I think about you all the time. I’m hurt we aren’t as close as we used to be.

Hanamaki looks at him with an expression that Matsukawa can’t quite place, “I’ve missed you too Issei.” There’s a lingering there, like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.

“Shall we?” he pipes up, the happy-go-lucky mask sliding back over his face. “Can’t just leave a body out in the open like this.”

Matsukawa nods.

---

“Issei...you drive a minivan?” Hanamaki says, as if that is the strangest thing out of this whole situation.

“Had I known you were coming with, I would’ve brought out my Maserati,” he jokes as he opens the door for Hanamaki, the body safely secured in the back.

Hanamaki rolls his eyes as he settles in, “I’ll bet you get all the chicks in this hot rod.”

There’s only one person I want to bring home in this car.

“Oh, so many. Chicks love it when you tell them you haul dead bodies in the back. It does wonders to the libido,”.

Hanamaki laughs, a genuine one that brings a smile to Matsukawa’s face, “I’ll bet.” He puts on a high falsetto, “Matsukawa-san, take me now, right here on the floor of this van where you’ve just hauled Uncle to his final resting place. I must have you, you stupid sexy mortician of a man”.

Matsukawa starts the car, “So you think I’m sexy Makki? Is that it?”.

“Never said you weren’t.”

They drive back in silence as Matsukawa turns that statement over and over in his mind. Hanamaki, true to his form, falls asleep as if this is just another late night. He’s still fast asleep when Matsukawa pulls up to the driveway of the funeral home, the streetlights casting a soft glow on his face. In sleep he looks younger, and Matsukawa is reminded of late nights when they would study together. Hanamaki always fell asleep first, as if he were chasing after something in his dreams.

---

He’s still asleep as Matsukawa unlocks the door and pushes the body into the refrigerated section of the home. Matsukawa is lost in his thoughts at the absurdity of the situation, Takahiro, his best friend, a three-time widower, is asleep in his car while Issei tucks his dead husband into the fridge. What the fuck.

His reverie doesn’t last long however.

“Boo”.

Matsukawa jumps as Hanamaki suddenly grabs his waist.

“Jesus Makki I—“

“Gotcha~” he says in a singsong voice. “You know, this is the first time I’ve been here,” he remarks as he looks around, taking it all in.

“Which is odd, considering you’re now a three-time client.”

Hanamaki shrugs, “I require the best of the best.”

“I’m sure there are better and more established funeral homes in Tokyo than my little place,” Matsukawa scoffs. He really needs a cigarette. Or a break. Maybe both. This is all too much to handle.

Hanamaki runs his hands along the desk, “Maybe. But you built this place from the ground up. All by yourself,”.

Matsukawa knows better than to say what’s on his mind, but he can’t help it. It’s been stewing for so fucking long that he needs to get it out. He may as well get closure now, here, as they stand in front of Hanamaki’s dead husband. “I wanted you by my side you know.”

The other man chuckles, clearly misinterpreting the weight of what he just said, “Right, we’d be like Gomez and Morticia Addams, two partners running a funeral home.”

“If you mean being married and running a small business side-by-side, yeah.” It’s a crude confession, not at all what Issei thought it would be like. Matsukawa thought he’d always have some flowery thing to say to Hanamaki when he finally did confess. Something sweet like the profiteroles that Hanamaki loves so much. He didn’t want to confess in the sterile white lighting of the storage room of his funeral home, to his grieving best friend. Hanamaki deserves better than that, he thinks, but it is what it is.

It all spills out of Matsukawa like a torrent. “I’ve been in love with you since before our last Spring High. Every fucking day I’ve wanted nothing but to hold your hand and kiss you. I thought…I thought after we graduated that we would live a boring normal life together while Iwaizumi and Oikawa run around the world,” he scoffs, trying desperately to chase away the wellspring of tears in his eyes. When did he become so emotional? Years of pining will do that to a man, he supposes.

Hanamaki gapes at him like he wants to say something, but Matsukawa doesn’t relent, words just keep spilling out of him. “It’d be boring by their standards but it would be our kind of boring you know? The dumb kind where we go out for ice cream at 2AM, or fall asleep on the couch,”. He runs a hand through his hair, grasping desperately.

“It hurt so much when you moved away…when you got married and I didn’t even know you were dating someone. After…after the first time I tried to date, tried to get over you, but no one can hold any candle to you in my life.” Matsukawa’s breathing is jagged, jagged like his heart. It feels like he’s trying to talk while running.

“I just…I love you so much Takahiro. I’m in love with the crow’s feet on your eyes that weren’t there before, the way your hair frames your face, your stupid humor, your laugh, how you always try to do-it-all and I just…I..”

“Every time I see you, you bring me to my knees,” he whispers.

Hanamaki doesn’t say a word, not that Matsukawa leaves any room for him to speak. He just closes his eyes. By the end, Matsukawa’s head is spinning and he’s pretty sure he just fucked it all up, but somehow, he’s also relieved. Relieved that he finally got it off his chest. Iwaizumi was right. The whole time, he’d been carrying this burden for so long he doesn’t know what it’s like to not have it, like a lovesick Atlas who doesn’t realize that he could just shrug off the burden and stand up straight again.

“Say something.” Please.

Hanamaki says nothing, just walks up to Matsukawa in bold, self-assured steps. He reaches for his face and Matsukawa flinches, actually flinches, at the touch.

“We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

Before Matsukawa can say anything Hanamaki reaches his hand to the back of Matsukawa’s neck, pulls at his tie, and kisses him. Issei is pretty sure he’s hallucinating but fuck Hanamaki smells so good, looks so good up close. He takes Hanamaki’s face in his hands, deepening the kiss, nothing on his mind except a litany of yes yes yes.

As they kiss, Hanamaki pushes Matsukawa towards the desk. Matsukawa doesn’t mind, all that he can think about is how badly he’s wanted this, how long he’s waited, how fucking happy he feels. He’s so dizzy with want that he doesn’t even remember where he is, all that exists currently is the feel of Hanamaki’s lips on his and his hands around Hanamaki’s waist.

Hanamaki breaks off the kiss, thumb running over Matsukawa’s cheek before he goes for his neck, pulling open his tie, fumbling at the button on his collar. When he can’t get it open fast enough, his hand wanders further down.

“Makki—wait I—”.

“Shut up.” He says as he drops to his knees, “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this.”

Wanted this? Wanted Matsukawa? Issei thinks he might need hearing aids or something, but that thought is wiped out as Hanamaki takes his cock out of his boxers and licks a long, wet stripe along the underside. The groan that escapes him is embarrassing and he grips the edge of the desk for dear life.

“Look at me Issei.” Hanamaki murmurs, pressing a kiss to the tip.

Matsukawa swallows, fluttering his eyes open as he looks down right as Hanamaki takes all of him into his mouth. Had he been a lesser man, he would’ve cum right then and there like a schoolboy. Instead, Matsukawa wills the last of his lucidity into being.

“F-fuck, Makki no—”

Hanamaki looks up at Matsukawa from his knees, a look of shock on his face and an undercurrent of dejection in his plea “You don’t want…?” You don’t want me? Is the unspoken thought.

Matsukawa grits his teeth as he wills himself to pull back, “I do Takahiro, you have no fucking idea how much I want you but no, not here. We need to do this right.”

It’s then that Hanamaki seems to snap out of his daze and remembers where they are. “Oh...oh right, fuck. Uh...let’s go home?”

Matsukawa sighs in relief as Hanamaki gets up. “Yeah..home.”

---

When they get back to Matsukawa’s apartment, he brings out two beers from the fridge, and sets them down on the coffee table.

“Hiro...before we do anything, we should...talk”.

Hanamaki sighs, taking a deep swig, “I know...I owe you that much.”

He fiddles with the label on beer. “The first two times, I needed money, and one of the part-timers suggested this website. I made it clear from the start that it was purely transactional, but I was so afraid of losing everything and coming back to Miyagi with nothing to show for it.”

He looks right at Matsukawa. “I know…I could’ve asked my parents or you or anyone for help but...when you’re in the thick of it you just can’t think straight you know?”

Hanamaki sighs wearily, “The last time, Hideki-kun...was terminally ill and estranged from his family. He didn’t want it to go to them. We got close when I was temping at his office. I..I told him to leave it all to charity, but I guess he felt some sort of strange compulsion to help me. He paid for job training, a therapist, and was just so kind for no reason. All he asked for in return was that I play a role in public.”

“So, you were…arm candy?”

“I wouldn’t even call it that. We had different residences, it was all very compartmentalized. I wish I asked him before but, I think he was just lonely.” Hanamaki scoffs, “At least I did one thing right in my adult life, comfort someone who needed it.”

Matsukawa reaches over, pulling the other man to his chest, running a hand through his hair. Hanamaki fits perfectly on top of Issei’s chest. He lets out a sigh.

“I’m sorry Issei.”

Matsukawa presses a kiss to the top of Hanamaki’s head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he murmurs, “Will you stay this time?”

“Yeah, if you’ll have me.”

“There’s nothing else I want more,” Matsukawa murmurs, before taking Hanamaki’s hand in his and pressing a kiss to his palm.

A muffled voice pipes up, “You..you forgive me?”

“Of course,” Matsukawa says, another kiss to his hand. It’s the easiest thing Matsukawa has ever done. They’ll have to talk more earnestly later and clear years of unspoken pain, but Matsukawa knows that this time, it’ll be alright.

“Just like that?”

Matsukawa angles his head to the side, looking down right into Hanamaki’s eyes as he runs a finger across his eyebrow, “Makki…why do you always think you have to suffer?”.

Hanamaki’s upper lip is quivering. “You sound like my therapist,” he says, voice cracking a little. Matsukawa smiles, and sits up, arms returning to Hanamaki’s waist.

“My clients usually don’t talk back,” he says, planting a soft, tentative kiss to Hanamaki’s cheek.

“Was that an attempt at a funeral joke because if so, you are severely out of practice Issei.” The other man snarks, trying and failing to hide the smile in the corner of his lips as Matsukawa presses a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re in for it now. There’s plenty more where that came from,” He murmurs before finally meeting Hanamaki’s lips. “No escape from the horrible puns.”

“What a tragedy,” Hanamaki says, mouth opening to meet Matsukawa’s. He runs his hands down Hanamaki’s side like he’s always envisioned himself doing. A jolt of electricity runs through him and he feels emboldened by both their confessions and Hanamaki finally being in his arms. Matsukawa pushes Hanamaki so that his back is on the cushions, lips on the edge of his neck, hands intertwining with Hanamaki’s. Matsukawa works his way down slowly, kissing every inch of Hanamaki that he can get access to—the other man’s Adam’s apple, the hollow of his throat, his collarbones, trying to immortalize him in his mind. Below him, Hanamaki shivers to his touch, hips rising up to meet Matsukawa’s.

Matsukawa swallows, fingertips grasping right at the edge of Hanamaki’s slacks. “May I?” he whispers, as if he’s afraid that if he’s any louder, Hanamaki will disappear again.

“I want you. I’ve wanted you.” Hanamaki says, “I—”. Emboldened, Matsukawa quickly undoes his belt and pulls his slacks down. There’s less composure in Matsukawa’s movements then he would like, but fuck it, Hanamaki is front of him in the flesh, and willing. He palms Hanamaki’s cock through his boxers, relishing in the hiss of breath that escapes Hanamaki’s gritted teeth as Matsukawa kisses the v-line of his hips. There’s no particular rhyme or reason to Matsukawa’s movements, and they’re a bit sloppy, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how good Hanamaki tastes and how good it feels when Hanamaki’s hand grips his hair.

He looks up at Hanamaki from between his thighs, wiping his mouth with his thumb. Hanamaki’s face is a pretty pink, lower lip swollen from how hard he’d been biting it. For a second, Matsukawa thinks about all that he’s ever wanted to do, will do, to Hanamaki, and shivers before returning his attentions to Hanamaki’s cock.

Hanamaki is beautiful as he comes undone in Matsukawa’s mouth, his fingers intertwined with Matsukawa’s other hand, back arching off the sofa cushions. They hold each other on the couch, giggling like school children- a heady mix of happiness, joy, and relief having found each other again.

---

The television is on in Matsukawa Issei’s tiny office at Peaceful Hills Funeral Home. Space is always a premium at a mortician’s, more so now that he’s no longer the sole employee of said funeral home. Instead, when he looks up and past the door, he can see his husband Hanamaki on the phone as well, jotting down notes from another client.

Matsukawa’s cigarette is lit, rapidly turning into ash as he just takes in the view in front of him, watching the light catch on the wedding band that Takahiro wears.

Darling, dearest, his.

---

I originally set out to write a PWP where they bang in the funeral home but...this...happened. I fell out of HQ for a long time (dipped out after Seijoh lost), but recently finished the manga and got slapped in the face with Mattsun working at a funeral home post-timeskip like ?? sir?? are you aware how hot you are??? and then I felt an inexplicable need to break his heart for a bit. Just a little. Also big thanks to @/plumtreeforest as always <3

Comments/reblogs/etc always appreciated <3 can’t believe I finally got around to writing fic of my faves in the year 2021. I missed them.

#haikyuu!!#hanamaki takahiro #matsukawa issei #matsuhana #matsukawa x hanamaki #seijoh #mono writes #I needed to get the Pining out of my system

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ambertea · 4 years ago

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pretending to be good

Eleanor and Michael struggle to become better.

Read on ao3

He wasn’t what she had always thought the devil was like. She watched him try to hide it. He wore his suit like an armour, his bowtie always bright and vibrant, his hair styled to an inch of perfection. He joked, and chatted, and blustered around in the same way he thought humans did, covered his bad bits with odd habits or terrible hobbies. But when he reached out and touched her, she could not help but flinch. His skin was cold to the touch, almost like a snake’s. He would always look at her then, hurt and confused, but this only shattered the illusion even further. The hardness in his eyes had never softened.

Chidi was chattering away about philosophy, staring at his chalkboard as he drove himself in vicious, confused circles. He had strayed from the point almost half an hour ago and seemed to have forgotten that Michael and Eleanor were there at all. They were leaning over a textbook, hair brushing together, and their cheeks lit up in the same sick glee. They were adding to the trolley problem diagram in thick red pens, drawing crushed bystanders and angry red eyes on the driver. Michael drew a moustache on him, and Eleanor chuckled and added a pointed little beard. She glanced up at Chidi, who was still harshly ruminating and turned her head slightly towards Michael. “What do you really think about it, though?” She said softly. He frowned and returned her gaze. “About what?” He asked. His icy breath tickled her cheek slightly, and she swallowed harshly. “The trolley problem.” She whispered, and he nodded and turned to stare at the book, head tilted. “Well,” he muttered. “They’re all going to hell anyway. Who cares if it’s a bit early?” She felt a smile pull itself across her cheeks, surprising her. She turned to gaze at the book as well. “I meant, who do you save?” He hesitated, and then let out a breath. “I don’t know, Eleanor. I find it hard to care.” He said quietly, voice vulnerable as if he were revealing a dirty little secret. She just nodded. “Me too.”

She was trying to learn how to be better. She smiled more and offered hesitant kindnesses. Chidi thought she was doing well. Michael knew better. They would meet in his office often, sipping vinegary wine and venting over the events of the day. “And then Jason told me his school taught maths by playing Tetris, and that’s why he’s so good at sex.” Michael laughed, Eleanor giggling along with him. Her cheeks were flushed with pink, drunk and gleeful. “So, what did you say?” She asked, trying to take another sip out of her empty glass. She shrugged and picked up the bottle to swig out of that instead. “I asked him which piece was most like his penis.” He said joyfully, head titled back, and eyes scrunched together. Eleanor snorted, trying to imagine Jason’s face at that. “And?” “He frowned for a little bit and then said the block.” He told her and they both looked at each other with cheerful confusion. “Oh, Jason.” She laughed, sitting back in her chair and propping her feet up on the desk. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, both gazing up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Michael,” Eleanor said hesitantly, and he snapped his gaze back to her. “Do you ever think…” “What?” He asked once it was clear she was struggling to continue. She gazed solidly at the wine bottle, her mind whirling around. “I’ve just been wondering, lately, what the point is.” She admitted. “The point of what?” “Trying to be good.” She said quietly, and Michael nodded slowly. “Like, I know Chidi and Tahani and even Jason are, like, good inside. But us,” here she slowly sought out his eyes. “we’re not quite like that, are we?” “We’re not?” He asked, trying to swallow past the sudden thickness in his throat. She shook her head slowly, brows furrowed. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it. When you do good things. When you try to act kindly or do things that are probably the right thing to do.” She said, her voice laced with steel. “Feel what?” He asked, but he already knew. “Like it’s just an act.” She said softly, her face pained. “Well, yes, but that’s what we’re doing, isn’t it.” He asked her, feeling almost desperate in his conviction that she was wrong. “Act good until we are good.” “But we’re not good.” She argued harshly. “We will never be like them. All of them, they all had something. Tahani had her fame, Jason had his friends, Chidi had his books. They all had something in their lives that they loved.” “What do you love?” He asked, and she stared blankly at him. “Nothing at all.” He nodded, slowly, and poured himself another glass of wine in the silence. She was still looking at him, her face almost desperate. He took a deep sip and then sighed. “Me neither.” He confessed, and her face fell slack instantly in relief. “But what else can we do?” “Be bad.” She said, her face now flushed in conviction. He sighed and sat back. “Well, we’ve done that already. Might as well try this out for a bit.” He said quietly. “I can’t do this.” She said, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to.” “What else can we do?” He asked again, his own voice thick with emotion. “Be bad – and do what? Torture Chidi, Tahani and Jason? Do you really want to do that?” “No.” She admitted, and he nodded. “I could cancel this whole thing. We could all go back to the real bad place. You and the others would end up being tortured forever.” He told her. He wondered, absently, what torture they would choose for Eleanor. “And you?” She asked, looked up at him through her slightly wet lashes. He let out a gruff laugh. “And I would spend the rest of eternity like I spent the first part. Bored and alone.” He admitted, and she opened her mouth to disagree and then instantly shut it. “Why has it got to be so hard?” She asked and he closed his eyes in pain. “It’s the way of the universe.” He said, a bleak smile stretching over his face. “But we have to do this, Eleanor.” She looked for a second like she might argue, but then let out a huff of air. “Yeah, I guess.”

He didn’t see as much of Eleanor after that. She kept to her house, rarely going anywhere she was likely to see him. He didn’t mind. Her words were constantly in his head. Logically, he thought his plan was the right one. He had grudgingly read the textbooks and listened to Chidi’s impassioned explanations. He knew people were more complicated than good or bad, and he saw that more than anywhere in Eleanor herself. She seemed so inherently dark. He saw it in her mocking gaze, in the way she rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, any time she infected conversations with her bitter sarcasm. But this darkness felt so good. He liked their silent exchanges, enjoyed their whispered insults. He liked the way she would light up in the presence of her friends, stealing away their warmth. He liked the way that she alone knew exactly what he thought of different philosophies or moral stances because she thought the exact same thing. It was nice, after so many millennia, to feel a little less alone. Despite this, though, he really wanted to be good. He wanted to be admirable, righteous, the sort of person people saw as a pillar. It was so very human to want someone to look up to, and so very appealing for them to be looking up at him. He needed to try at the very least because he knew. Knew that if he and Eleanor continued any further down the wrong path, then the others would be doomed to a life of misery.

She quickly stopped avoiding him, bored by his absence. They spoke slightly awkwardly, both worried by the other’s reaction. Still, it was good to be on the same team. She was getting restless. In her life on Earth, she had rarely stayed in one place for very long. She had always enjoyed flitting from place to place, never getting too tied down. Now, it seemed she would be trapped in this pseudo paradise forever. How very fitting. She and Michael were both getting better, studying dutifully under Chidi’s watchful eye. Their textbooks remained unmarked and became well-read. Slowly, her kindness was becoming more instinctive. She wasn’t sure if it was from genuine belief or just muscle memory at this point, but it made Chidi grin widely. Sometimes Michael would smile as well, and it made her stomach twist into knots.

“I guess we’re really doing this.” She said to Michael absently. It had been weeks since their conversation, but he knew what she was talking about instantly. “I guess we are.” He replied. They were sitting eating froyo, looking out at the artificial setting sun. He turned to look at her face, coloured red by the hues of the sky. She looked as much of a demon as him. He kept that thought to himself. “At least we’re in this together.” She said solemnly, her voice slightly choked. He nodded, feeling traitorous tears building in his eyes. The ultimate hell for Eleanor Shellstrop had not been one of his design but had clearly been just as effective. An eternity of being pretending to be good. And he was trapped right alongside her.

#hellstrop #the good place #eleanor shellstrop #i haven't written anything in ages pls be kind haha #mine #writing #michael x eleanor #tgp fanfic #mine: words #mine: tgp #mine: hellstrop

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bluepenguinstories · 4 years ago

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Remoras Full Chapter XXXI: Treant

There wasn’t much interesting about me. Not really. That wasn’t me being self-deprecating or anything. If anything, I quite liked being in the background. Others around me have always been more interesting, and I was happy enough just to help those others out.

That’s why I worked from childhood through my adulthood in order to become a doctor. It wasn’t like a total dream of mine, and I wasn’t sure if I’d call myself “passionate” (one of my top qualities, I think, is that I’ve been called a dispassionate person. But I shouldn’t humblebrag), but when I was in grade school and saw one of my classmates get injured, I couldn’t help but be compelled to want to help them. Then there were times, like when my sister or my mom would get sick and I’d be like “gee, I wonder what would help them get better.”

Skip past many years of boring details, and the rest is history. Got my own apartment after completing my internship at one of the nearby hospitals. When my sister helped me move in, we found a time travel device in the closet that I mistook for a Nintendo 64. It’s not as interesting of a detail as it seems. Anyway, that aside, there was still work to be had just about every day.

Skip ahead a few more years after that…

...And there was still work to be had.

It was about that time in the morning when it wasn’t yet bright and early and the coffee I poured tasted like sludge. When the showers were scalding and suffocating fumes filled the bathroom, yet when I turned off the shower, I shivered like a nudist at the north pole.

Towel was too small. Quick shimmy and I groaned and threw it in the laundry basket. No one else was around to see me naked, so whatever. Even if there was, my bedroom door was closed. On the bed were my work clothes, which in my groggy state, I tried to fit the shirt on my legs and the pants on my head. After a few tries and tired moans and groans, I got it right. Still, my tie was a little loose.

I’ll fix it on my way there. Or I won’t and I’ll just say I’m setting a new fashion trend.

I glanced down at my limited edition Kamen Rider Black wristwatch and my blood pressure spiked upon noticing the time.

“Fuck,” I cursed, though in my hoarse tiredness, it sounded more like a donkey braying.

Yes, it was ‘fucktime’, that universal concept of that time of day where one looks at the time and exclaims “fuck!” There were many reasons for cursing at a time of day, and it didn’t have to be any time in particular, but the most common reason was due to the situation I was in: I was running late for work.

In a state of fight or flight (which I am always in flight since I could use the exercise), I put a couple of bagel slices into the toaster, wished that my toaster had a turbo speed button, and paced about until those two slices popped up; they weren’t crispy enough, but they’d have to do. Like the skilled painter that I wasn’t, I swiped across the two halves of the bagel with a messy gloop of cream cheese.

No more time left.

I ran out the door, or whatever constituted as a run in my mind, with the bagel halves held tight in my mouth.

This ridiculous display persisted for about...oh, to hell with it, let’s just skip all the embarrassment. Fast forward to when I got to the hospital, drenched in sweat and cream cheese on the cuff of my shirt.

“Ran late again?” The receptionist, I think her name was Wormwood, looked up from her computer. Her thick brown hair was in a bun and she didn’t just have bags under her eyes, but bags under those bags. That’s okay, I’ve had those days as well. From the reflection of her glasses, it looked like she was playing an intense game of Tetris.

“A doctor is never early nor late,” I huffed, trying to sound more self-assured than my short breath would allow.

“Yeah, you wish. Go change your shirt. You’ve got a patient waiting for you in room 413,” she clucked. Was clucked the right descriptor? Well, it was a vague chicken-like tone, so cluck was good enough.

“Why’s it always patients with me?” I joked. She didn’t so much as give a half-hearted chuckle. She could have at least said, “A for effort,” but I guess everyone was a critic. I hurried over to the hospital’s resident dry cleaner, who always had a spare pair of uniforms, scrubs, nice shirts, you name it. Our dry cleaner guy was a typical average dude with stringy red hair, named Marion or something. He always had that strung out look about him that gave the impression that he was pretty trustworthy. I showed him the cream cheese on my shirt and he made an OK sign with both hands, closed his eyes, and shook his head.

“Say no more,” he assured me in the most endearing bored-out-of-your-mind voice imaginable.

As I waited for him to grab me a spare shirt, I looked up and saw a couple of green scrubs hanging around.

“I can’t do this on my own. I’m no superman,” I hummed the tune. Marion (that might not have been his name, but it was pretty damn close to what I imagine his name was) turned and asked, “what?”

“You know, Scrubs? It’s a reference.”

“Oh, man, I don’t know the first thing about references,” he bemoaned in both a disinterested tone and a disoriented one.

Man, nobody appreciates a good reference these days.

After I received my change of shirt, I went into the nearest bathroom and speedran the Trent Dress Up game. Not to brag, but I might have set a new record that day. Okay. Moving on.

Up four flights of stairs I lumbered up, each foot dragged behind the other. Yes, I could have used the elevator, but then that wouldn’t have been very doctor-like of me, would it? I mean, plenty of doctors took the elevator, and there was nothing wrong with that, but I always tried to do healthy things. It didn’t really matter much, I mean, I was already healthy, I was just a little chubby, was all. So what? I was a big ol’ teddy bear in a lab coat. At least I rocked the look.

Twelve rooms down. Then the thirteenth: that was where I heard the assistant.

“Dr. Bark will see you now,” the assistant informed the patient. After she left, which I didn’t really get a good look at, but I’ve probably worked with her before, I opened the door and greeted the patient.

“Woof, woof!” I made my best dog voice, which probably sounded closer to a howler monkey than a dog.

My patient just looked at me, not amused in the slightest. He was an elderly man who looked like a bad caricature of an elderly man. Not one of the kind ones, either. No, more like the grumpy kind who would yell at you if you so much as lived in the general vicinity of the same neighborhood he lived in. Then again, I knew looks could be deceiving and if anything, his face was probably contorted in pain.

“Okay, so I’m not that clown doctor, but if you honk my nose, I will still make a sound,” I gave a nervous laugh as I said. He just continued to stare at me.

It turned out that he had a small seizure just as I entered the room. Lovely timing, really.

Before I could take a break and have some lunch, there were a few more fun moments, gross moments, sad moments, silly moments, the whole gamut. Really, I loved my job because there were many opportunities to treat others and get them to better health. But also I hated my job because it was a job and I hated being the bearer of big bills due to the malicious concept of private insurance.

My sister-in-law was always going on about how I should be more ambitious. How I could try to start my own clinic and treat people for free, out of the kindness of my heart. Which I loved, that really was a dream if I ever had one. But there was the matter of means. Equipment costs money, I’d need more space, I’d have to get all those good prescription drugs that all the cool cats liked. I wasn’t even sure if I could do it, legally.

But hey, if it were possible, I’d do it. For sure. Maybe.

Once I made it to the hospital’s cafeteria, I grabbed a lobster salad with a garlic roll and a pink lady apple for an extra layer of irony. It was ironic because no matter how many times I ate one of those, I could never keep myself away from the hospital. Shame, too. The busier I was, the less time I had to play Monster Hunter.

Anyway, as I looked for a place to sit, I hummed a tune I heard over the radio.

“Don’t call my name, don’t call my name, Alejandro. Fernando,” I hummed. Or rather, mumbled. Because I knew for a fact that I said those words out loud, whether or not I should have saved myself the embarrassment.

“Yes?” Crooned the seductive and husky toned voice of a man I didn’t recognize. I looked around, then noticed that the owner of such a voice was seated all by his lonesome at a table in the middle of the cafeteria.

Oh good, finally a table that’s not crowded.

I made the no-brainer decision to sit across from him at the table. His head sported a vast field of curly black hair as well as the stubble-laden remnants of a rugged black mustache. He reminded me of the guy from that Just Cause series of games, though not sure why, as I’ve never played them, though I had to admit, grappling hooks were pretty cool.

“Did you say something?” I stared into his inviting rosemary colored eyes. Mostly because I felt it rude if I didn’t. Imagine if someone did that to me, just looked away when they spoke to me. Actually, that’s probably happened many times.

“You said my name,” he replied, more plain this time, without as much of a soothing effect, but no less friendly.

“Oh? Alejandro?” I blinked, unaware that I had said anyone’s name.

“No, Fernando, but you may call me Fern. Everyone does,” he smiled as he told me, a smile as soothing as his voice could be.

“Well, I certainly wanna do what everyone else is doing,” I chuckled. “I’m Trent, by the way.”

He gave a slow nod.

“What a beautiful name. Do you know who does the song that you were singing?”

Oh god, if ever there was a time to be embarrassed.

“I just heard the song on the radio! I don’t know anything about it, I just thought it was kinda catchy.”

“I’ll give you a hint: it starts with ‘Lady’.”

Fuck. I was bad at guessing games.

“Lady and the Tramp?”

“No.”

“Lady Marmaduke?”

“No. You have three more guesses.”

Wait. He never said I had a limit of five. Now I was really feeling the pressure.

“Lady Groudon?”

“Close.”

Oh! Now I knew what it was!

“Lady Goomy!”

“...No, not quite. But really close.”

Damn. I only had one guess left, too. The heat was really on now.

“Lady Gloop?”

He bit his lip trying to hold back laughter, but couldn’t, and it all came flooding out.

“Um, did I win?” I wasn’t sure what to make of that laughter, but I had to know. I just HAD to know.

After he settled down, he shook his head and with an aching calm assured me:

“It’s not important.”

“Well, what is important, then?” I grimaced, the answer not given to me.

“The lives of our patients are what’s important.”

Yeah, that seemed a little obvious, though, considering our professions and all. Actually, I wasn’t quite sure whether he was a doctor or not. I didn’t recall ever working with him.

“What do you do here, by the way?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m a nurse, mi amor.”

Once he said that, everything clicked into place.

“No wonder you’ve got that gentle voice,” I observed.

“I don’t have to be gentle if you don’t want me to be.”

“No, no,” I shook my head. “For the sake of the patients, I think you ought to be.”

We went back and forth after that, chatting about this and that, though nothing really important. Really, it was nice, I didn’t usually chat with anyone. Afterward, however, it was back to the grind. Oh joy.

Once said day one was done, I flopped on home and collapsed on my sofa. Next to me was a controller, and I had bought my copy of Final Fantasy XVI the other day, but haven’t had a chance to play it.

“My body...too feeble…” I wheezed out the words as my hands shook trying to reach for the controller. Just as it seemed like the controller was within my grasp, my phone rang.

When there was something in closer proximity than the item that I really wanted, the natural urge was to reach for the one in closer proximity instead.

“Hey Trent. It’s me,” came the sudden and to the point tone of my sister-in-law: Vesuvius.

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” I snapped to my senses and sat right up. “Is everything okay? Nothing too serious, I hope.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ve got a nice little apartment with my beautiful wife. I just haven’t spoken to you in a while and wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Oh, what a relief. I was worried you were having another mental health episode.”

“Hey! I don’t go around pointing out the time you had food poisoning, do I?” She scolded. Yeah, okay. That was fair.

She didn’t have many mental health episodes, but ever since that incident with her and Juniper’s stalkers, she had been more sensitive and more on edge. That said, I really was happy for her and that she was at peace.

“You’re right. God, that was a rough time. Who knew blueberries could be so poisonous?”

“All things in nature can,” she stated. Gee, if anyone knew that, it would’ve been her.

“How are all things with settling into the apartment?” I asked. She hadn’t been there long, but it was a bold step for her, considering her social anxiety, which she tried to act like she didn’t have.

“You know, it’s an adjustment. It gets lonely when Juniper isn’t home. I’m not used to her having anything resembling a job. I hate to sound possessive, but I don’t like that she has one. I wish we didn’t have to make money to live.”

“Be as possessive as you want,” I chuckled. “Er...within reason. Say, have you saved up for anything?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, you always go on about wanting to do that whole ‘cottagecore’ lifestyle thing. So maybe you could save for that and go for it?”

She drew a deep breath, as if she were about to blow a gust of wind out of every orifice.

“First off, I don’t know what a ‘cottagecore’ is, but I’m cautious around anything with the suffix of -core. You know I’m a delicate flower.”

“And a poisonous one,” I pointed out.

“Yes, well, poisonous flowers can be delicate. And hey! Be nice to me!”

I coughed up a chuckle.

“Okay, well, second off,” she continued. “What I want is to live off the land, in a field of flowers. Growing my own field. Having peace and quiet in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, that’s cottagecore.”

“Don’t say words I don’t understand to me!” She scolded. “It’s really demeaning.”

“Okay, okay,” I tried to settle down with the teasing. “But for real, it’s not like it’s impossible. Juniper could build a house, she likes making things.” Then again, she probably wouldn’t build a house very well, but I’m sure she’d enjoy the attempt. “It may take a bit of money for the resources, but it’s not like it’s impossible.”

“Yeah, well, first thing’s first is I want to see a therapist. Like, an actual therapist.”

“Oh, that could be good for you.”

“Yeah…” Her voice trailed, and the tone of her voice shifted to a more mournful one. “I still remember how I was during that time. I have trouble believing that it’s really over. All of that pain lingers with me. It’s not something I wish to remember, but it’s something I’m unable to forget.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too bad,” I tried to reassure her. I assumed she was referring to the whole stalker incident that occurred at the same time she dealt with her mental health episode. “Everyone has a breaking point. There’s nothing to be ashamed of there.”

“No, but there is. I was confused. Desperate. I hurt the most important person in my life. I hurt someone else that I could have helped. That I could have saved. If I had just known how. If my mind was more clear back then,” her voice shifted into a growl. “I hate it. I hate inflicting pain. Especially because it’s not who I want to be. No who I am anymore,” her voice then grew sharper. Harsher. “Yet I can’t help but feel like it’s still with me, buried somewhere, and I just want to punch a wall, rip my hair out, something! Something to cut this off from me!”

“Hey, hey,” I could tell she was working herself up. “You and Juniper are both sensitive people. Sometimes people lash out when their emotions are heightened. It doesn’t mean you’re bad or anything, but you can work on it. For what it’s worth, I do think you two are good together.”

“Thank you,” her voice quieted back to the mournful tone it was at first and I could hear sniffling and weeping in the background. “I’m sorry. I told myself I would keep composed and yet I went off into that rant. Gee, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re a better therapist than the one I pretended to be.”

“Heh. It’s nothing. You’ve definitely been through a lot. Get yourself some tea or something, that might help.”

“Thanks,” she sniffled again. “What about you? Is there anything new with you?”

“Eh. Same ol’ boring stuff at the hospital. People get sick and die, some people get better.”

“To which?” She let out a weak chuckle.

“Oh, definitely the sick part. I’ve yet to someone get better from being dead, but anything can happen. Fingers crossed, right?”

“Heh…so there’s nothing new at all? What about at the house? I bet you’re glad to have Juniper and I out of your hair.”

“Eh. You guys weren’t that bad to deal with.”

“That’s a relief. Do you miss us?”

“Hmm...a bit. It’s a bit quiet now, but I like it. Means I can play video games in peace and walk around the apartment in my underwear.”

“Indeed, that is a positive. Though I didn’t need to hear the last part.”

I tried to think about anything of substance I could actually talk about.

“Oh! I met someone new at the hospital today! This nurse named Fern. He’s got these beautiful murky green eyes and maze-like curly dark hair. Oh, and his mustache. I bet I’d be ticklish if it rubbed against me,” I announced with a sense of excitement at the prospect of actually having something to say.

“Are you attracted to this Fern person?” She inquired.

While I didn’t quite know where she got that idea from, I wasn’t going to say that he was ugly or anything like that.

“I’m certainly not repelled by him,” I joked. Heh. Magnets. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, since you described him in such exquisite detail.”

“Eh. Isn’t it normal to describe people you talk about?”

“Not in my experience. Not like that, anyway. But hey, what do I know?”

“Yeah, well, I just met him today, so I doubt I’ll describe him every time I talk about him. He seems nice, in any case. Hey, maybe the four of us could play D&D together sometime?” I perked up at the prospect of having someone else to play D&D with. That was the most important thing about meeting someone. If not D&D, maybe I could gush about 80s Sci-Fi movies or J-RPGs.

“I don’t know...that game always brings out the worst in me...I try to be a healer but whenever I encounter a monster I just want to grind them into dust and then I curse the fact that I didn’t pick a class like barbarian.”

“Heh. That is a problem. You could always just be a barbarian.”

“No. I don’t want to,” I could tell she stuck her nose up just by her tone of voice alone.

“In any case, we gotta get this going on! We never seem to finish a campaign!” I was SO pumped to get this thing going on.

“That’s because I always either quit out of frustration or you end up too busy and we decide to start over from a new campaign as soon as you have free time again,” she pointed out. At least she was honest.

“We’ll figure something out, I’m sure!”

“Mm...well, it was nice talking with you, Trent. I’m glad you seem to be doing well, and good luck with this Fern person.”

“Thanks! You take care too! Bye!”

We hung up and I spent the rest of the day being an exhausted nerdy Trenty bear who somehow did nothing yet time still passed.

As the days went by, I’d spend lunch having conversations with Fern and he said I could talk about whatever I was passionate about, so OF COURSE a bunch of nerdy shit came up.

“About halfway through the game, she dies, but you can get her final limit break later on. This is a way to show that she’s still with the party in spirit and the party keeps it as a memento, even though they know they cannot use it, OR they refuse to use it to honor her memory.”

“I see. And it’s not just the developers making a mistake?” Fern pondered. The gall.

“No way. Game developers wouldn’t just do that. In fact, you can hack the game to make it so Aerith lives, by coming back after she dies, but she’ll say at a certain point, ‘I’m not supposed to be here’. That’s because the developers knew that players would try to bring her back, so they were prepared.”

“Wow. That really is haunting,” he looked moved by my explanation. As he should be.

“The game devs were also brilliant for making her and Cloud be besties instead of a romantic interest. There’s a part where Cloud and Aerith go on a date on a ferris wheel and right before they go on the ferris wheel, Aerith turns to cloud and goes ‘wa...wassup homie?’ and Cloud says, ‘golly gee’ in response. By having them be besties, it shows the importance of friendships over romantic relationships. It’s actually shown in a prequel that Cloud had a boyfriend named Zack, but despite it being canon, many fans prefer to act like the game doesn’t exist.”

“That’s a wonderful message for them to show,” he nodded along.

“Yeah. So anyway, Zack dies in the prequel.”

“Damn. This Cloud guy just can’t catch a break.”

Before I was able to continue the conversation further, I received a beep on my pager.

“...And neither can I. I gotta split.”

That was how our typical conversations went. I did most of the talking while he stared and smiled the whole way through. Most of the time, I didn’t mind that, but it also meant that I didn’t know much about him. He hardly seemed like the mysterious type, and I should’ve known the mysterious type due to the people I’ve let in my apartment in the past.

So the next chance we got I decided I’d hold nothing back. We both sat together, once again with our lunches in front of us, and I popped the question:

“Do you have any siblings?” I was casual as I asked him, plain as day with an egg and lettuce sandwich in my hands. He tilted his head and rested it on his palm, looking even more radiant than usual.

“Why yes. I have four sisters. Two of them are engaged. One of them’s married. The fourth one is still looking for love.”

“Oh wow,” I replied. “You know, you could tell her that she doesn’t have to find love. It’s not the be-all and end-all, after all.”

“I think she already knows that. Still, she wouldn’t mind the experience. What about you, Trent?” He spoke my name with such a delicacy that it made my heart tackle the walls of my chest.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammered. “I’ve got a sister. I don’t even know why you mentioned relationships since I just asked about siblings, but she’s in one. I mean, she’s married, so I guess I’ve also got a sister-in-law. If that counts as another sibling, then I’ve got two sisters, maybe?”

He coughed up a chuckle against his fist.

“Love is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?”

I shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess it can be.”

For some reason that simple exchange reminded me of an early memory when Juniper and I were kids and we shared a room, bunk beds, in fact.

She hung upside down from the edge of the top bunk of the bed. I always did tell her to be careful, but she never was good at listening to me.

“Hey bro, bro, bruh, bruv,” she pestered me.

“What is it?” I looked up from the book I was reading.

She held down a magazine with pictures of women in hiking gear.

“Look! Aren’t those girls cute? Aren’t they your type?” She pressed it up to my face. Or as well up to my face as she could. Her aim wasn’t the best when she hung upside down. Nevertheless, I took a glance. Of course, as I was more interested in the book I was reading, I didn’t really pay attention.

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

Not satisfied, she grew in intensity.

“Come on! You didn’t look!”

“Yeah I did!” I shot back. “I’m just more interested in this book right now! You have no idea how cool the Shannara novels are!” Oh, but I wasn’t done. “Also, I’m pretty sure those are your type, not mine!”

She stuck her tongue out.

“What even is your type?” She teased.

I shrugged. Really, I didn’t know then, and even into my 30s, as a doctor, I had no idea if I even had a type. For anyone. After a pause, she then asked.

“Do you think you’d ever have a crush on anyone?”

I gave it some thought. Then, as if it was a no brainer, it clicked.

“If someone was actually interested in me, sure! But c’mon, I’m a nerd. You know how hard it is for people like me.”

She scowled at that.

“That’s just a myth. That shouldn’t stop you.”

She was right. Both back then, and in the present, if she were to tell me that again. But over the years, I grew to have a different excuse.

“Would you ever be open to the idea of love?” Fern’s question brought me out of the memory, back to the moment that I shared with him.

I shrugged.

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind. If the opportunity were to occur. But then, I’m always too busy to think about things like that, so it’s never really crossed my mind. I’m sure you can relate, seeing as you’re probably about as busy as I am.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “But it has its advantages.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like how we can spend the same amount of time together.”

Oh yeah. That was a really good point.

“Heh. It is nice to have someone to chat with,” I agreed.

It was a surprise how little time had passed, but I was glad for it. Considering how unpredictable this job could be, I had to be thankful for any precious minutes I got.

“Let’s not worry about that. If we run out of time, we can pick it up another day. So what do you say?”

“So tell me, how did your sister meet her lover?” His curiosity took me by surprise. Not something I thought would be worth asking, but who was I to say what someone did and didn’t find interesting?

All right. So I told him. It seemed he just had that kind of effect on me.

Maybe it was a little cliché, I don’t know, because I don’t know what constitutes as cliché, but it was a rainy evening. I had just gotten off work, I had my umbrella, but it seemed to do me little good as there was a mighty gust of wind and the rain just slid down the umbrella and managed to force itself onto my jacket.

On the way home, I took a shortcut through a side street. I guess it was like an alleyway, but more open. I don’t know, side street sounds appropriate. Curled up underneath the cover of a building’s awning was a homeless woman, a single orange striped blanket over her, damp. Her hair seemed covered in dirt, she shivered, but made no attempt to voice her discomfort. I couldn’t quite make out her face, but maybe it was pity that brought me to pay attention to her in the first place.

Yeah, typical “boy meets girl” story, huh?

At last, she looked up and croaked. Despite facing me, her face seemed to droop low and she looked downtrodden.

“You got money?”

I jumped. Startled. Yeah, not too dignified, but I really just didn’t expect for her to notice me. Once I composed myself, I dug through my jacket pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.

“Here, it’s not much, but it’s what I got on me.”

“Thanks,” she replied and took it. No more than that. Of course, if that was the extent of the exchange, there wouldn’t really be anything to tell, now would there?

“Hey, I know it’s late, but there’s a cafe close by we can visit if you want a coffee or something. They’re not open forever, but it’ll keep you dry for a little while,” I offered.

She looked up again, scowled.

“I don’t trust strangers,” she stated.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I’m a stranger, you’re a stranger. I get that,” I chuckled. “I just figured I’d offer, but you can decline. If you’re worried about me being someone dangerous, you can punch me. I’m not really interested in being cruel or violent or anything like that.”

She squinted. I would later find out that was less because of how ridiculous she may have thought me and more because she had poor eyesight.

“Are you that desperate that you would ask a homeless person out on a date?” Her biting remark might have gotten under the skin of just about anyone else, but I’ve probably heard much worse from some of my patients. Instead, I laughed.

“You don’t have to think of it as a date. I don’t. I’m not really the dating type, anyway. It’s just a spur of the moment thing.”

She shifted eyes, turned her head from left to right, then looked back up on me.

“I can’t believe I’m going to agree to this…but sure,” she heaved out the words.

“Cool,” I stuck my thumb out, then continued, “it’s just a couple of blocks away. I really like the place, since I sometimes don’t get off work until real late and it’s open past midnight.”

“I don’t care...when it’s open...but I could use something warm...to drink,” she sounded lightheaded, in a daze.

Once we made our way through the door of the dim lit cafe with neon lighting, she wiped her shoes on the mat.

Oh. What good manners, I thought. As someone who often forgot to wipe their shoes when entering places, it was a nice reminder to see someone else do so. At least I remembered to put my umbrella down, but that kinda went without saying.

As soon as I approached the counter, I turned to her, still drenched.

“Don’t worry about the cost. Order whatever you like,” I assured her. After I said those words, she looked up, squinted, then closed her eyes.

“I would like a lavender mocha latte, but no dairy. Almond milk if you have it. Coconut would be even better. Give four extra shots of espresso, and if you have dark chocolate syrup, use that.”

Damn. It was like she had the whole thing recited and ready to go. All right.

“I’ll just take a black coffee,” I shrugged. I didn’t need all the sugar or any of that extra stuff.

“Oh. I should have went with that too,” she looked down, possibly embarrassed at her order.

I laughed.

“Don’t worry, I said you could order whatever. My treat.”

She made her way to the table nearest to the window, and took the seat closest to the window as well. As soon as she sat down, she lowered her head onto the table and her arms outstretched to cover her head. Behind her, raindrops slid down the window. It wasn’t much an interesting sight, but I wasn’t a very observant person, so I felt I ought to have taken note of something.

“Just so you know, you should probably forget about me after this,” she uttered and despite her words being muffled, I could still make her words out clear as a river.

“If you want,” I shrugged.

“I’m serious. You shouldn’t associate with me. There’s people after me. I’d rather not get anyone involved.”

I pondered if there was any validity to that. Maybe she ran from an ex, or there was some trafficking ring. That last bit was a little dark. As a middle ground, I thought that maybe she had run off from home as a kid (surprisingly, that part was sort of true, in a sense).

“You probably think I’m crazy. Paranoid, even. I get it. Some homeless woman tells you there’s people after her. You don’t have to believe me. Just so you know, I’m homeless by choice. It’s easier this way. You don’t have to believe that, either.”

“Well, if you’re on the run, maybe it’s not by choice?” I suggested.

She looked up, her face still semi-buried in her arms. Still, I could make out eyes through her bangs. Grayish-purple bags under her eyes, but eyes nonetheless.

“Yeah. You’re probably right. It’s been so long, it’s hard to tell anymore. My head won’t cooperate,” she seemed to agree with my assessment, and as if to confirm as much, she lifted her head up and rubbed her forehead with her palm. With one eye visible, she glared at me.

“Just so you know, even if you considered this a date, I wouldn’t be interested. I’m…” she looked around, then stated, “men don’t interest me.”

I chuckled.

“It’s okay. My sister’s a lesbian. You don’t really have to beat around the bush about it.”

Her eyes widened, then squinted again.

“I don’t know why you would tell me that. I’m not interested. My main focus is my survival, it’s just…” She began to glance to her side and down at the floor. “I’ve been running and hiding so long, I’m growing tired. Sooner or later, I might just give up. It’s a terrible thought, but I don’t think I can go on.”

My concern began to grow, even if I didn’t know the scope of her problem.

“I don’t really know what it is you’re dealing with, but you don’t have to deal with it alone.”

“No. I refuse to endanger anyone else,” she seemed adamant about that.

Maybe she was justified, but in a selfish way, that also made me want to help more.

“You can refuse if you want, but the weather forecast says it’s going to be raining over the next few days. I’ve got a spare room in my apartment you can stay in. If nothing else, it’ll keep you dry.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” she looked away once more.

“You wouldn’t be. I’m the one that offered,” I shrugged, a favorite gesture of mine.

“Well...maybe my head is just messed up enough right now, but...fine. As long as I reserve the right to leave at any time.”

“Of course,” I assured her, and I even lifted a feeble smile. Once our coffee was brought over, mine a regular paper coffee cup, hers a ceramic cup filled to the top, we drank in silence. Between intervals of me sipping the bitter bean, I peeked over and noticed how she held onto her cup with a sort of elegance; one hand on the handle, the other grasping the base of the cup, and slow sips taken, not a single slurp to be heard. It was probably a little weird of me to pick up on something like that, I admit.

“I’m Trent, by the way,” I told her out of courtesy. Depending on how long she’d stay, I felt it wise to tell her my name.

“Et...err...Vesuvius. You can call me Vesuvius. Or Ves. I don’t care which,” her eyes shifted and she stammered out the words.

After we finished our coffee, we headed out, umbrella up and ready to go. There wasn’t a long walk ahead of us, and she was silent the whole way through. Not that I tried to make small talk anyway, since the rain was kind of gloomy weather for conversation. She walked with a slump, something I should have warned her to be cautious about, lest she get a hunchback. Maybe she did so because she felt she was too tall to fit under the umbrella, or maybe she had been under such duress for so long that standing up straight no longer registered to her.

Before long, we made our way inside and I showed her to where the spare room was. She didn’t speak a word, not so much as a nod, just went inside. Before I closed the door, I told her, “if you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be down the hall and to your left.”

Still, no acknowledgment. That was fine. Just as long as she heard me. For whatever reason, it didn’t register until after I closed the door that I didn’t have anything like an air mattress or a futon for her to sleep on. That room was bare, empty. Not a single item to be found.

Despite that, I was too tired to do anything rational like look for some spare blankets or pillows, and decided it was high time for me to get some rest. At the very least, I turned the heater on and let it run. It wasn’t something I liked to do, and I didn’t think Juniper would be all that comfortable with it on, but screw it, I was the one who paid the bills.

“Well, time for me to get some shut eye,” I announced, thinking there was no one around who could hear me. However, I soon noticed from the corner of my eye a foam basketball being tossed up into the air.

“Who’s the babe?” Juniper, asked in a rather dull voice. I soon turned and saw her laying on the couch, flat on her back.

“Don’t be disrespectful,” I scolded. “I found her on the street. She’s just going to stay over for a few nights.”

“So now you’re picking up homeless chicks?”

Really, maybe she was just moody ‘cause she was tired, or maybe she just felt like giving me a hard time that night in particular.

“I just felt like doing a good deed, there’s nothing behind it,” I corrected her. Again.

“That’s rather nice of you. Just make sure not to overexert yourself. Your health is important too,” she reminded.

“Thanks.”

I thought I could just go to bed, but then a smile which signified mischief spread across her face.

“So, tell me about the babe,” she wouldn’t drop it so soon.

“Oh, come on,” I groaned.

“C’mon, the babe.”

“No,” I folded my arms on my hips. If she could nudge me from where she was at, she would have.

“You remind me of the babe,” her cheery voice returned, coupled with a sing-song tone.

“What babe?” I finally gave in.

“The babe with the power.”

“What power?”

“Power of voodoo!”

“Who do?”

“You do!”

“Do what?”

“Remind me of the babe! Ha ha ha!” she kicked around the couch and laughed. There were certain nights where I could just tell when she watched Labyrinth that day.

“Okay, okay, don’t stay up too late,” I reminded her. “You know where your room is.”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Night.”

Ah, Labyrinth. Classic. David Bowie and his tights. Things didn’t get much better than that.

Somehow I managed to tell him all of that with time to spare.

“You have a big heart, Trent,” he told me, which kinda made me want to sulk.

“Yeah...I do try to have a good diet, though,” I pouted.

“No, no, I mean metaphorically,” he patted the air as he spoke, a sure sign of sincerity.

“You mean…?” I stared into his earthen rosemary colored eyes.

“Yes. You are very kind.”

“Oh, phew. For a second there I was worried you meant my weight.”

“No, no. Dear. You are adorable. When I first saw you that fateful day, I said to myself, ‘this is an adorable teddy bear’. I would never have anything unkind to say to a teddy bear.”

“Well, thank you. Does that mean I’m a cuddly looking teddy bear?” I let slip my curiosity.

“I’d have to find that one out for myself. Hey, your story about your sister’s wife got me thinking. How would you like to go out for coffee after work?”

Gee, the possibility never even occurred to me, but it was so simple. Of course.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. I’m pretty sure the place is still open.”

“And,” he leaned in a little closer. “May I consider it a date?”

I laughed a little at that.

“If you’d like to.”

“And,” a little closer still. “Would you consider it one?”

That time, my heart went “boing boing” against my chest. I didn’t know the answer to that one. It was too much being put on the spot, I was used to the attention being on other people.

“Um...not no, but maybe yes...I’m not sure…” Came my disgraceful blabbering until I managed to catch myself and re-compose. “Er...I’m not used to thinking about things for myself...but...sure. You’re a pretty cool guy. Let’s consider it a coffee date.”

So we did. Just a few nights later, after work we walked into the parking lot. He had a motorcycle, with enough of a seat for me to fit in the back. It wasn’t awkward in the slightest and in fact, it played out much the same as many of our conversations at lunch before. It all felt natural between us, like trees. He ordered an oregano tea latte and I had my usual black coffee.

As if by miracle, the sun had yet to set and there wasn’t the slightest hint of rain. We sat across from each other and immersed ourselves in the ambiance of the hums and smooth glitchtunes playing on the coffee shop’s speakers.

“So, if I were to come over to your place tonight, would I see your sister and her wife?” He posed the hypothetical question.

“Nah, they both moved out almost a year ago. They’ve got their own apartment somewhere else in the city, though they’re also saving up to move elsewhere again.”

“So soon?” He tilted his head.

“Well, it’s a dream of Ves’ to live in a field of flowers, open nature, all that stuff. Psychedelic drugs, flowers in hair, tie-dye, I could go on. Juniper’s already found a place a couple of states out, and she found an old beat up pick up truck in a ditch and decided to repair it just for fun. So now all they gotta do is assemble the wood, get some electric lining, plumbing, all that stuff. Which...I don’t have a lot of faith in my sister, she’s no architect or electrician, but she’s the type who gets insistent about doing everything herself, so it’s not like I could talk her out of it.”

“That’s great, though! They’re pursuing their passion. Isn’t that beautiful?”

I shrugged.

“I dunno if ‘beautiful’ is the word I’d use, but yeah. I suppose I’m happy for them.”

“What about you? Do you have any goals?” His eyes fluttered, almost like he wanted to lull me to sleep.

“Sorta, but it’s kinda dumb? I just don’t like the whole ‘charged ten thousand dollars as soon as you walk in and good luck getting your overpriced insurance that you can barely afford, if afford at all, to cover anything’ so I was thinking how it would be cool if I could run my own clinic. I don’t know, maybe it could be funded through donations, but in no way would people have to pay. Like, I doubt I’d be able to do the big stuff like surgeries or transplants, but it’s still something, right? Thing is, that’s kinda impossible, don’cha think?”

Rather than some kind of agreement, he reacted in a rather ferocious manner: he stood up, leaned over, and slammed his hands on the table.

“Trent,” while his voice grew in intensity, it certainly didn’t sound angry. More...motivating. “You must never be afraid of your passion.”

“Uh...okay…” I scratched my cheek. “But what about you? What are you passionate about?”

He sat back down.

“You. Of course,” he answered, so simple, so straightforward in his delivery.

“So, like, does that mean you’d want to play D&D with me sometime?”

He laughed.

“I’d love to.”

“Really? Are you sure? What if you don’t like it? I mean, I don’t even know what your hobbies are.”

“If I end up not liking it, then at least I’ll have found that out for myself. But all of your hobbies, everything that interest you, I want to immerse myself in. Because all of you...is my hobby.”

“Bro…” I leaned forward. “That’s kind of...uh...cool!”

“Oh, and I also like to ride around on my motorcycle. I like watching the sunsets, going hiking, mountain climbing, kayaking, and making ceramic cups.”

Hiking, mountain climbing, kayaking...he sure looked fit. Not to mention, those things sounded like fun, even if possibly dangerous.

“Do you think I could do those things with you?” I asked, hesitant, but I figured if he was wanting to do the things I liked, I may as well ask him in return.

“Of course. You can do whatever you want with me.”

“Then in that case, can I kiss you?” I joked, though it seemed to come out of nowhere. However much I meant it, it was out in the open now.

“Of course. Would you like to do it here, or at your apartment?”

“Err...at my apartment?”

To be honest, I’ve never kissed anyone before. Or been kissed by anyone before. That thought never even crossed my mind and I pretty much figured I’d be fine not having such a thought and continuing on with my life, but dominoes were falling or something like that.

“Let’s go, then,” he stood up and motioned for me to head toward the door. In a hurry, I chugged down my coffee.

I should probably brush my teeth first. Coffee breath probably isn’t a good taste. Then again, would he want to brush his teeth. Should we just use the same toothbrush? Or maybe he packed one with him.

When we shoved our way through the door of my apartment, those questions were erased from my mind.

“I’ve actually never kissed anyone before...I know, in my thirties and…” he put his finger on my lips and made a “shh” sound.

“Relax. I’ll take the lead,” he lowered his hand, then leaned down and spread his lips against mine. As he released, I wished that he hadn’t. But then the thought of my breath returned to the front of my mind.

“Sorry, uh, hope my breath doesn’t bother you.”

“Does it bother you?” He asked.

“Well…it’s probably good to take care of your teeth. I’m not a dentist, but I do think good health is important in all aspects of one’s health and --”

He pulled out a box of mint chews.

“Here,” he opened the box. I took a couple and popped them into my mouth. On instinct, I bit down on them and chewed, despite knowing that I wouldn’t be prepared for the icy hellfire that was the minty taste. After a couple of seconds of huffing, I looked back at him.

“Okay, I’m good now.”

“There is one more interest I have now,” he decided to pick back up from our conversation at the coffee shop for some final choice words.

“Yeah? What would that be?”

“Supporting you and your dreams.”

Then we kissed again.

So flashforward a year or so and through some sort of miracle, such a dream was realized: we converted the apartment into a clinic and moved upstairs to the apartment directly above. Both of us quit our jobs at the hospital so we could focus on the clinic. Really, I couldn’t have done it without him. Or, maybe I could have, but I’d like to think he gave me that sort of push, y’know? That little “oomf.”

There were many improvements that could have been made, and might be made as time went on, but I liked seeing the genuine attempt to help, and the look on people’s faces when they knew they wouldn’t have to worry about cost...worth it. What’s more, people donated freely, and often. We met several people around the community and even convinced some to play D&D with us. I think the biggest surprise was how much of a hit the game was with the elderly.

Oh, and also, Fern and I became boyfriends. Not really sure how that happened, but it did and I’m cool with it.

On one particular slow day, an interesting thing happened: see, it had been a while since any strange people walked through my door. After a streak of Ves, Blanc, and that weird stalker lady my sister hugged, I figured I’d see the last of any weirdness. In fact, I never even thought to tell Fern about any of the weird visitors (besides Ves, of course). But then as I was doing a solo hunt against deviljo in Monster Hunter on my PC in my office, Fern ran into my office.

“Hey Trent, dear, there’s someone outside the front door saying she’s your cousin,” he informed me. I looked up, a little perplexed.

“I have relatives?” I asked, even though it might have seemed like a pretty dumb thing to say.

Never mind the dumbness, I stopped what I was doing and rushed toward the door only to find a short lady with blonde hair who looked to be in her 20s.

“Hello, can I help you?” I asked her.

“It’s me, your cousin. Demetria?” She folded her arms and scowled.

It took a few seconds to click, and then I remembered.

“Ohhh. You were at my sister’s wedding. I think. Probably.”

“Yeah, I probably most definitely was,” she turned her head and spat on the ground.

Fern stood beside me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Who might this be?” He asked.

“Fern,” I gestured to Demetria. “This is apparently my cousin, Demetria. Demetria, this is Fern, my receptionist-slash-boyfriend.”

“You make me sick,” Demetria growled in response.

“What?” I blinked, and I was quite surprised to hear such a thing. “Are you homophobic?”

“No, I’m not homophobic, I just can’t believe you’re dating someone named after a tree! You were supposed to be the chosen one! You could have broken the cycle!”

That was an odd thing to focus on, but good to know it wasn’t too serious.

“It’s short for Fernando, actually, and technically, Ferns aren’t trees,” Fern explained to her.

“All right, buster,” she pointed up. “But you’re on thin-fucking-ice!”

Then she turned to me.

“Also, grats on being gay, I guess. That’s kinda cool,” she eased up her abrasive tone.

“Well, I might be bi. I don’t know. I haven’t been interested in women before, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be interested in any women. I think the real question we need to ask is, is it gay to be in a relationship with another man?” I suggested. Demetria just looked at Fern, who then looked at me.

“Yeah,” they both said at the same time.

“Well, in any case, what can I do for you, Demetria?” I shifted focus.

“Right. I need you to tell me where Juniper lives.”

“What for?”

“So I can go live with them. Why else?”

That was an odd thing to want to do, and I didn’t even think Juniper and Ves would agree to such a...oh, who was I kidding? Juniper was that kind of person.

“Right. Uh...I guess there’s no harm. I’ll write down their address for you. You got a way to get there?”

She shook her head.

“I make it up as I go. I got here just fine, didn’t I?”

Yeah, that was a good point.

I pulled out my notepad from my shirt pocket as well as a pen and scribbled down the address. After I handed it to her, she squinted and scowled.

“Shit. How am I supposed to read this chicken scratch?”

Right. Doctor.

“Here, I’ll just spell it out for you, so you can just type it in the notepad app on your phone or whatever you have.”

“Oh, great. More work for me to do,” she grimaced, but pulled out her phone and pressed the power button.

“Let’s see...a few missed calls from my mom. Typical. Also, a text from Ray. ‘If you ever consider coming back here, don’t. I don’t want to see you again.’ Gee, wasn’t planning on going back there, but good to see I’m not wanted. Typical...oh, here we go. Notepad.”

I didn’t really know what that bit was about, but I wasn’t about to pry. Wasn’t my business. As soon as I told her the address, she turned her phone back off and put it back in her pocket.

How are you going to know where to find the place if you don’t even look at the address?

Oh well. Juniper and Ves’ problem now.

“See ya,” she waved, then ran off. Fern and I waved too, then Fern turned to me.

“Well, she was interesting,” he remarked.

I shrugged.

“Yeah. It tends to go that way. I never really told you, but besides Ves, there’s been some strange people who showed up here a couple of times. First there was Blanc, this amnesiac who was missing an arm. Juniper decided to make a prosthetic limb for them after learning about Fullmetal Alchemist and we kinda let them live here until they just disappeared one day. Then there was this one stalker Juniper had who wanted her and I to leave town but didn’t really explain why and then Juniper hugged her and she freaked out. Not a clue what that was about, but we never saw her again, so I guess we never needed to leave town.”

“Wow, your sister had a stalker?”

I shrugged.

“Yeah, it was horrible, I guess. She seemed rather nonchalant about it, but I could tell it affected her in some ways. She was paranoid for a bit until she met this stalker in person, and then said stalker turned out to be harmless.”

“Still, I would’ve been scared too.”

“Oh yeah, and by the way, Ves is a time traveler. Yeah, you probably think I’m nuts now, but she was originally from the ‘60s and my sister and I found this time travel device that looked like a Nintendo 64 when we moved in. It apparently belonged to Ves’ father. So that time at the coffee shop when she was homeless? Yeah, apparently I met her before that actually and neither of us realized that. Of course, she was a teenager back then and only showed up to take the time travel device back but anyway…”

I realized I started rambling and the more I went on, the more ridiculous things probably seemed.

“...Anyway, you don’t have to believe me, but that was all to say that everyone else who’s ever been in this apartment has been more interesting than me. Including you. Compared to them, I’m kinda just...there.”

He shook his head and placed a firm grasp on my shoulders. He looked me in the eyes.

“No, you are very interesting. How could you not be when you’ve met all of these interesting people? Take it from me: I wouldn’t be interested in you if I didn’t find you interesting.”

“Gee,” I looked away, embarrassed. “Thanks. But also, there’s one more thing: my family has this weird tradition of naming people after trees. Yeah, I’m Trent, but I was named after Treant, this tree monster in D&D. My mom wanted to name me Ent, but apparently couldn’t because the Tolkien estate has the rights to that name.”

“See? Another interesting thing about you!”

“Ha. I’m glad I met you. My mom wasn’t exactly a nice lady, but it was cool that she was into D&D. That’s probably where I got it from. Maybe it’s genetic. Still, neither mine nor my sister’s personalities are like her, although Juniper’s probably closer, though way nicer. It’s hard to explain, but you’d just have to trust me.”

“Every time you tell me something new about yourself, I’m fascinated more and more,” he smiled wide.

We kissed once more before getting back to work. Our day hadn’t yet come to an end.

#writing #remoras full #romance #gay #trent #doctor #clinic #stories #lgbt #dnd

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op-peccatori · 5 years ago

Text

The Spider and the (Butter)fly | MLQC Lucien | Kinktober: October 20th

Prompts: Deep-throating || Roleplay || Object Insertion

THE THIRST IS ALIVE! Submission number 5 for @alloveroliver’s Kinktober celebration!!!!

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Reader/Lucien

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3700

Warnings/tags: explicit smut and language, oral sex, deep-throating, fingering, role-play, teacher and (college) student

a/n: I forgot they were role-playing halfway into it. also I made a moodboard!!

You stand outside the office, eyes squeezed shut and folders clutched to your chest with nervousness.

There aren’t many people in the building at this time, but it isn't completely deserted. There are students who pass you by, some flashing you sympathetic smiles and others not seeing you at all. A professor looks quite puzzled at the sight of you.

Technically, you shouldn’t be here. But, the thought of going back home with your failure terrifies you and you have to at least try to avoid that. So you’ll stand here for the next two days if that’s what it takes, and use whatever weapon is available to you.

With a quick glance around, you whip out a compact mirror to check on the state of your lipstick, deciding it was a good idea to forego the highlighter after all.

The echo of his footsteps reaches you before he does, and you look up at him with a sheepish smile. “Professor!” He blinks at you, giving you a quick once over, the suspicious glint in his eye immediately giving way to comprehension. . You keep your expression innocent, even as fear makes your heart dance to a terrible tune.

“Ms. ___. Still here?” he asks. His expression is neutral, but slight exasperation bleeds into heliotrope eyes. His dark hair stands out against the pale walls, his thin lips pursing at having to delay his departure for the day.

“Yes, Professor. I was uh, wondering if I could talk to you about something,” you say meekly. Your eyes remain glued to his cap-toe derbies, still a shiny black after the long day. It says a lot about the man himself. You have never seen him lose his composure, not even when a student tries their best to get under his skin - which is uncommon. Most students adore him, or as you like to put it, they're happy to linger in his web. You can't blame them.

There's an intimidating man behind the smiling eyes. Brilliant and charismatic yes, but there's an unnerving quality to him, in your opinion. Being in his presence, on your own, is intoxicating. It always leaves you on edge, feeling guilty for the filthy thoughts it brings. You glance up at him for a moment only to see him peering down at you, eyes cloudy with tiredness behind clear glass.

He nods and goes into his office, closing the door behind him. You wait for a whole minute before it opens again.

“Come in.” You watch him take a seat behind his desk as you walk through the door. His office is always clean, his things stacked neatly and in their places. His jacket is draped on the back of his chair, leaving him in a simple white button-up, sleeves rolled up to the forearms. You’re very aware of your own carefully selected outfit, the makeup applied with painful precision, the confidence you weaved with your own tongue in anticipation of this meeting. He barely gives you a look, however, and it leaves disappointment swirling in your stomach. “Take a seat.”

You hurry to do so, sinking down into the chair across from him, the safety of his desk between you both. The first two buttons of his shirt are popped open, and you have to put more effort into not staring at the patch of milky skin than you'd like to admit. A glimpse of his collarbones is enough to dry your mouth, and you curse yourself.

“I’m so, so sorry, Professor. I know it’s getting late–“ He waves of your words with a careless wag of his hand, and your eyes dart to his long fingers before you exercise some of the self-control you pretend to have.

“Yet, you’re here anyway. So, what can I do for you, Ms. ____?” He laces his fingers together and rests his chin on them. You’re struck silent by the exquisite picture he makes, for a long moment.

“It’s about my grade,” you say weakly. He does not look surprised at all. “Professor, I’m not the first student to come talk to you about this, I know. But I really, really must ask if you can reconsider.”

“I understand, Ms. ____. However, maybe you should’ve studied harder instead of giggling during class with the captain of the basketball team. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have to be here, hmm?” He doesn’t even look at you, seemingly studying an open file in front of him.

You sputter, a mortified blush painting your cheeks. It’s true, you usually partner with Kyle in his class. Cute, funny, charming Kyle who always tries to make you laugh and succeeds most of the time. But to think Professor Lucien has noticed it enough to point it out like this...it’s embarrassing, yet something to consider. Once you're home.

Ugh, and he’s getting snappy. Maybe it was a bad idea to try this now. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to be any easier to convince him just because the man is tired.

“It’s just – I did work really hard on this assignment. I don’t understand how I...”

He sighs heavily at the flustered response. “It’s not the end of the world. You still have time to make up for it.”

“But Professor, it's still going to affect my overall–“ He snaps the file shut.

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. Just work harder next time.” The tone of finality freezes your heart. You feel lost, scrambling to think of something, anything to persuade him. How do you convince someone like him? Unfazed, poised, formidable are the words thrown around when he's the topic of conversation. You're an average student barely passing his class. The idea comes to you in a burst of desperation, something you laughed at when Willow suggested it as a joke, something you only dare to think of in daydreams, where he usually comes to you with seductive words and clever fingers as his primary weapons. You never do resist too much even in those reveries, always too quick to drop your skirts, eager to feel him touch you where you allow no one else.

But you’ve come here with a plan; if you think back to all the times you’ve caught him looking at you, it doesn’t seem that ridiculous. You know the difference between wishful thinking and reality; there's no way you imagined the cold glare flashing on his face when he saw you giggling at Kyle's antics, his lingering stares when you wear that white sundress. Or maybe you’re just flattering and digging yourself a cold grave...but it’s worth a try.

Your back straightens, shoulders rolling back in an effort to relieve tension.

“Nothing?” The way his brow cocks should be branded as illegal.

“Ms. ___?”

“There’s really nothing I can do?” you ask, voice dropping low and suggestive; you bite your lip, gazing at him beseechingly. He swallows, following the motion and you smell blood. “I'll do...anything you ask, Professor.”

“Ms. ___.” His voice is sharp with a warning. But he hasn’t asked you to leave. His eyes grow darker, framed by inky bangs and square frames that he takes off to fold and place on his desk.

“Professor Lucien, please.” You stand up, eyes wide and all too ready. “Just-I’ll do anything, I will! Whatever you want.”

He looks at you slack-jawed, your breath quick and anxious. You’ve crossed a line, you know that. But will it get you what you want? The question of what you really want grows more muddled with every second, distorted by the flashes of darkness slipping past his composure and your own desire.

He watches you from beneath thick lashes. “Anything, you say?” You nod with slight hesitation. “Do you realize what you’re suggesting?”

“I do.”

His eyes slip down to the bare skin of your thighs before he, with visible effort, shifts them back to your face. “Ms. ___, I understand that you’re desperate. It makes us do stupid things. Which is why I’ll forget this ever happened. Now, leave before I...find myself less inclined to be so kind.” His eyes close in a clear dismissal. But he doesn't look angry, he looks like a man who can barely control himself, barely restrain himself from touching something he shouldn't.

He’s going to have to let you be the judge of that.

Nodding to yourself, you don’t say a word as you walk to the door, your thoughts assembling in place like a round of Tetris that you’ve just won. You hear him sigh and lean back in his chair, thinking you've come to your senses. You don’t say a word when you turn the lock, your heart pounding in your chest, the want now outweighing the desperation.

There’s a heavy silence in the room, punctuated by more glimpses of something wild behind his mask.

“Alright then. Come here.” Your stomach clenches at the command; his pupils are blown, his hand patting his thigh. He rolls his chair back to put some space between him and the desk as you walk over to him, this time to stand in front of him. Your knees brush his. “Sit.”

He parts his legs so you can sit delicately on his thigh, his hand coming to rest on your waist. Neither of you looks away from the other. You feel as if you’ve walked into the spider’s web, ready to be consumed.

“You’re a lot bolder than I thought, Ms. ___,” he murmurs, husky enough to send flashes straight to your groin. The smirk curving along his mouth is knowing, and your hand curls over his shoulder, broad and real. "I never took you for a risk-taker."

“I’m...sorry, Professor. I had to try,” you say, timid and unsure but privately turned on. You’re entranced by the effect his low chuckle has on his face, squirming slightly on your seat.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he assures you. But he doesn’t do anything. His other hand just rests on your leg, rubbing small circles into your skin, your mind going into overdrive at the touch. “Just pleasantly surprising. Tell me...are you really that desperate for a better grade?"

You can't bring yourself to form a response.

"We could find another way. Or maybe, just this once, I could change it..." he suggests, withdrawing his touch, much to your displeasure. "You're a hard-worker, I know that."

"No! No, Professor, I...I want to. Work for it. Like this."

"I see." He looks pleased by your hidden admission.

You adjust yourself on his lap, watching him watch you. He's patient as he weaves a net of desire around you, but you don't feel trapped. He waits for you to make the first move, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering chaotically at the thought of finally touching him.

Your hand cups his cheek, thumb tracing a sharp cheekbone. It traces the slight curve of his lip, and then you lean in, breath stuttering as you press your lips to his chastely. And again and again, in light brushes - it feels like the slow rush of a sweet drug, a fog settling around your thoughts before his fingers tangle in your hair, and his tongue begins to chart the lines of your mouth. You moan and your lips part to invite him in. You taste coffee and something that is very intimately him, flicking your tongue against his with increasing enthusiasm. His arm winds tighter around your waist as he holds you to him, plundering your mouth with more greed than the pirates of legend.

You have no thoughts to spare for grades, only for ways to make him touch you more.

"You taste so sweet, Ms. ___," he breathes, hot and damp on your lips. Your teeth graze his lower lip in response.

He turns you around so you’re facing the desk, now sitting between his legs, his firm chest pressed to your back and buries his nose in your hair. He inhales deeply, a low sound hitting the back of his throat. Your legs are wide open, falling on either side of his, his arm around your stomach strong to keep you upright against him.

The vulnerability crawls in, at your legs spread wide like this, the Professor's body moulding itself to yours, caging you in his arms.

Professor Lucien tugs down the neckline of your top low enough to unveil your breasts, adorned with baby pink velvet that he clearly fancies if his pleased hum is any indication or the curious swipe of his finger against the soft material. He fondles a breast experimentally, just to hear you moan, and pulls it out of the cloth. A roll of your nipple has you arching into him with a whimper, your ass dragging against his crotch. You don’t miss the quick suck of his breath, the helpless buck of his erection into you before he’s back in control.

The tiny crack in his composure thrills you, makes you want to turn around and roll your hips until you make him come in his pants, until he calls you by name and all the other sweet nicknames you've imagined him saying. You know you can. But you’re not in charge here, you remind yourself. The soft but lethal brush of his fingers on the inside of your thighs help with the reminder.

“Tell me, Ms. ___, did you select this outfit just for me?” he asks, voice surprisingly even, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. His hand caresses the soft curve of your waist, relaxing you. His hand bunches up your skirt carefully, and you jerk in his grasp when he cups your mound. “Shh. No need to be nervous. I won’t hurt you.” His palm grinds into you and your hips buck away, but you have nowhere to go. “I asked you a question.”

“Ah, Professor. I...I thought you might like it,” you admit with flaming cheeks. He laughs into your neck, nuzzling it gently.

“I do. Very thoughtful of you. And convenient,” he purrs and you’re confused for a second. “So you like being a little tease, do you?”

“I-Professor-“ you whimper, struggling harder when he presses firmly on your clit, just for a second. He sighs deeply next to your ear, faux disappointment evident in his exhale.

“Use your words, Ms ___. Do you enjoy tempting me, testing the limits of my control in every class? Tormenting me with little peeks of the temptress you keep hidden?”

"No, no..."

"Liar," he breathes, his tone more wicked than angry. "But I'm flattered you went to such lengths just to have an excuse to do this."

As an accompaniment to the disclosure, his finger slips past velvet and slick folds at the same time his other hand covers your mouth, muffling your loud cry at the intrusion. He fingers you deftly, a long finger sliding in and out of your tight heat as you squirm and moan on his lap. “Pretty, pretty girl. You’re so wet already. How often have you thought about this?”

He plays you like a devoted musician, a tireless conductor to the orchestra of your combined passions. It’s a delicious burn, and you want to share the sheer agony of it with him. The second he slides a finger into your mouth, intent on imitating the one down below, your lips latch onto it. You suck softly, tongue caressing and gliding, his soft groan needy and weak in your ear. Arousal thrums through you harder, the power you have over this extraordinary man making you tremble, giving you strength and ideas.

“Professor –“ you moan and he bites the lobe of your ear, another finger sliding in to torment you.

“I’ve thought about it too, you know. Bending you over my desk, taking you, tasting you, marking you.” His voice is gruff with desire and you moan incoherently as his fingers curl, rubbing your velvety walls roughly. You clutch at his wrist helplessly, tilting your neck and widening your legs to give him more access. All you can do is come apart in his arms, inch by inch, your fingers twitching with the urge to help him get you where you need to be. Once again displaying his ostensible talent for telepathy, his thumb presses down on your swollen nub. "Unraveling you."

You can just barely process his words, the pleasure coiled so tightly it's on the verge of combustion, aided by his thumb working your clit slowly, then furiously as you rock frantically into his hand. Your orgasm bursts with blinding stars behind your eyelids, your body bowing and writhing as if you can barely fit in it, before you go boneless in his arms. “Brilliant. That was beautiful, Ms. ___," he coos, fingers sliding out of you, settling your skirt back in place. Your head tilts back to lean on his shoulder and you watch him lick his fingers clean with a satisfied smile. His erection is hard against your ass, and you want to touch it, spoil him.

“How do I taste, Professor?” you ask, your smile coy.

The answering look in his eyes is predatory. “Divine.”

Turning to face him completely, you end up straddling his thigh, and the firm pressure of muscle against your sensitive sex sends something electric climbing through your veins. It scrambles your brains for a moment and you have to pull yourself together, allowing him to place a lingering kiss on your lips.

“Professor,” you plead. He looks like...well, like someone who just spent some time with his mouth glued to yours, with messy hair and your favourite lipstick on his mouth. It’s a good look on him. “Professor, tell me what to do.”

“Are you sure?”

"Please. I want to touch you, please you.” You palm the bulge at his crotch, delighting in the way he hisses. Your mouth quirks up before you continue. “I’ll work hard. I’ll be a good student.”

Lucien swallows heavily. “Get on your knees.” You’re more obedient than you’ve ever been in your life, slipping off his thigh to kneel between his legs. “Unzip me.” He lifts his hips to help you out, and you’re embarrassed to feel how your mouth waters when you pull his briefs down to slip his cock out, licking your lips at the sight of the glistening tip.

You look up at him through your lashes, your finger tracing a line down his shaft.

“I've wanted this for so long, Professor,” you whisper before giving a slow lick along his length. And it's way better than the fantasy, you think, pulling the head into your wet mouth, your tongue circling and rubbing. He groans, petting your head gently.

“Alright then. Hands behind your back.” Your eyes fly to him in surprise and he gives you a lascivious smirk. “This isn’t a reward. You’re working for something here, sweetheart. You need to work hard.” You try to nod as best as you can, clasping your hands behind your back. “Good girl. Now put that mouth to good use.”

Each bob of your head slides his swollen cock deeper into your mouth, your tongue running up and down the stiff length. You find joy in each hiss and grunt you manage to coax out, pleasure in every praise he showers upon you. Your jaw aches but you soldier on, determined to see your unruffled professor break. He looks far from it right now, the vein on his neck popping and his muscles coiled with iron, barely holding onto the leash he keeps himself on.

“Deeper,” he rasps. You try to relax your jaw, tensing up when his cock brushes the back of your throat. The next slide of your mouth on him is slow, trying to get used to the sensation. Your eyes water and he smiles fondly at the sight of you struggling. “Need some help, baby girl?” You whimper and he reaches over to cup the back of your head, twisting your hair around his hand. He murmurs a warning softly before he snaps his hips into your mouth and you gag, spit running down your chin as he starts fucking your mouth with swift thrusts, cursing and praising you in turns. His eyes glaze over with the force of his pleasure, the breathy sounds escaping him lewd enough to fuel a hundred wet dreams. “Good girl. Relax your jaw. Yes-yes, just like that. I’ve spent hours thinking about fucking your pretty mouth, you know? It’s better than I ever imagined.”

The sound that leaves his lips when you cup his balls is obscene, and your scalp stings from how tightly he pulls your hair. Your tongue massages the underside of his cock, and you swallow, pulling him deeper. He gasps, a filthy curse escaping and you're going to remember it forever. “I’m – coming.” You brace yourself as he stills deep in your throat and comes in heated spurts. His thrusts get weaker as he keeps coming and you choke as you try to swallow all of it. Lucien pulls out of your mouth, nimble fingers hurriedly pumping the last of his seed out onto your lips and chin instead of inside your occupied mouth.

You’re still coughing when he hands you a glass of water, pulling you up and back onto his lap as you drink gratefully. He wipes your face clean with wet tissues, thorough and gentle, and you lean against him, drained. His fingers massage your scalp tenderly, pulling a content sigh from you.

“Hmm. I believe that’s an A+,” he declares, making you laugh and wack him on the shoulder. He kisses you gently, achingly slow, breath mingling as his face hovers close to yours. His expression is open, affectionate, his eyes soft with love and contentment. Your lips still feel raw when you kiss the underside of his jaw, curling up in the enclosure of his arms with satisfaction seeped into your bones. “Are you okay?”

You can’t hide a smile at his concerned tone, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. He tilts his head to brush his lips at the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your temple. “Mhm. Just tired.”

“Let’s go home, baby girl. I’ll cook.”

#alloverkinktober #mlqc #mlqc lucien #mlqc fanfic #mlqc smut #mlqc xu mo #mlqc x reader #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #love and producer

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sunshinesukuna · 5 years ago

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king of the arcade

♕ pairing: arcader! kageyama tobio x reader

♕ genre: fluff

♕ inspiration: this playlist my friend recommended (pleaseee listen to it while reading, it is a whole vibe!) reply 1988 (dir. Shin Wonho), an old letterman jacket my friend found in the back of his closet that had karasuno's exact colours it made me want to cry.

Miyagi, 14.34 JST (+9) Some time during 1984,

“Eh? He isn’t home?”

“Yeah. He’s probably at the arcade,” Miwa said. She shrugged, like this was a daily occurrence —which it was— and paid no mind to her little brother’s business unless he was getting hurt.

Although you had anticipated that he would be out of the house, you couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. Your house was the way to the arcade, and he couldn’t have stopped by just to say hi or to bring you along? And what was he doing at the arcade already at this time of day. While everyone was frolicking at the beach or visiting relatives who-knows-where, your boyfriend was already wasting his coins at the arcade.

You wouldn’t call it wasting, per se, but… okay, he was throwing his money down the drain on what? High scores on arcade games that would eventually break down, leaving no memory of the tears and sweat shed over them? Please. It wasn’t like you were against it or anything, but you really wished he would take some time to take care after you, his girlfriend.

After saying a quick thank you to his older sister, you sped off. You didn’t stop until you saw the big blue sign saying ‘SAKANOSHITA’S’ over the brick building. A bell tinkled above head as you opened the door.

You had to squint so your eyes could adjust to the light, but the flashing of arcade games did little to help. The familiar sounds of Pacman, Galaga, Defender, and Mario Bros blared loudly over the entire arcade. You paid them no mind as a random song from played in your earphones.

Even with the earphones in your ears, you could hear him from here. You should be close.

Kageyama Tobio is leaned over a bright blue arcade game. It’s his favorite, and the one he’s best at: Donkey Kong. His navy letterman jacket is tied around his waist, but you can still make out the faded orange KARASUNO VBC on the back.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?” he screeched. This boy really did not grasp the concept of ‘inside voice,’ huh?

“It was a fluke! I just hadn’t popped my fingers before!” another familiar voice replied in shrill vexation. Kageyama scoffed.

“Yeah, right.”

A nest of olive hair playing Pac-Man next to a blond glanced at the situation. You sauntered up to him and patted him on the shoulder, effectively causing him to jump up a little. The pinch server was always easily surprised.

“What’s he screaming about this time, Yamaguchi-kun?” you asked.

“(Y/N)!” Yamaguchi rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, he was about to beat his old high score, but then he needed to go to the toilet. He didn’t want to end the game, so he asked Hinata to cover him and...” He gestured to the fight unfolding in front of you two. You rolled your eyes. Typical Kageyama.

“You get the idea.”

Without looking up from his ongoing game of Tetris, Tsukishima said, “Do something about it, will you?” He twirled his finger around his ear. “He’s being too loud.”

The four boys were a motley pack of what could be called ‘friends’ from their shared passion of volleyball and arcade hopping. Wherever one was, the other three were sure to be trailing behind. As was the case right now.

You leaned back on an unused arcade game. “Oh really?” you asked. It amused you every time you pushed at Tsukishima’s buttons, and you were in sore need of cheering up today. You raised your eyebrows, challenging him to come at you with a rebuttal. “Look at you, ordering people around like some sort of prince.”

To add emphasis, you rolled your eyes. The GAME OVER screen turned on with a slap of the button. Tsukishima glared at you through his oversized glasses. They shimmered along with the flickering lights from the other games.

“Hey,” he said warningly. Tsukishima’s tone was as usual whenever you played your jokes with him. Behind the glasses, his eyes were as hard as rocks as he looked into you. Five seconds, ten... he blinked. You laughed animatedly at him, but relented once he pulled his hand back, in mock threatening.

“Okay, okay, I’m on my way...” you said. You gave him the side-eye. ��Sheesh.” Finally doing what you had been meaning to do for the whole day, you embarked on your mission.

Kageyama was in the middle of starting a new game when you launched your trap. His fingers stroked over the controls innocently enough —unlike the tips of yours, that were slowly making their way around his hardened stomach. He jerked back at your touch, but you felt his body uncoiling a bit at your face.

“Wha— ah, (Y/N).” You unknotted the letterman jacket from around his waist. Pulling it over your own shoulders, you rested your chin on his much higher shoulder.

“Don’t mind me, go on.” The muscles under your fingers tensed a bit as they prepared for a new game. Since the school you two went to didn’t have an arcading club, he had joined the next best thing. Volleyball. Combined with the wonders of puberty, he had grown into the tall, rather sullen man in your arms right now.

To your surprise, the dark red GAME OVER signs flashed over the screen all too quickly. Normally, he could last much longer than the amateur arcade player, but today, he seemed a little off his game.

“What happened, Tobio?” you asked. He turned over to face you, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down from the amount of physical contact he was getting right now. And in public!

“Let me teach you,” he suddenly said.

“What?”

Using his much bigger frame and physical strength, he switched your positions. The sharp edge of Donkey Kong was now pressing into your lower stomach, as Kageyama captivated you between his arms.

His fingers brushed against yours, breath lingering at your thighs for a while as he inserted the coin in the slot. They moved over your fingers, that were situated on top of the buttons and joystick.

The thundering of the giant gorillas footsteps let you know the game was going to start. As Mario appeared, Kageyama’s fingers on top of your pressed into your nails. His gamer instincts were sharpening. How could they not? When the beeps that accompanied Mario became his own little battle cries, and the princess trapped at the top his new charge.

“Press faster,” he muttered. You were pressing as fast as you could, but Kageyama’s fingers above you egged at you to go faster. The more and more you played, the more frustrated Kageyama seemed to be getting. His constant critiques on your gameplay, despite knowing that you were an amateur, were getting to your head.

Needless to say, the game ended quickly. Kageyama sighed in your hair. It would be sexy, if you weren’t about to go over the edge by him first ignoring you the whole day, and then this? You turned over and looked into his eyes.

Kageyama opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.“I’m not you, Tobio. I haven’t spent approximately an eighth of my life in arcades, so please excuse my inexperience.”

He knitted his eyebrows together, the expression not far from his usual scowl. But his mouth softened at the edges as he pouted.

“I was going to say sorry for that….” His tone was that of a six-year-old that had been caught stealing cookies from the jar. The Galaga game off to the side was very interesting as you realised what he was implying. “But if it bothers you that much, we can go get ice cream or something else instead?”

His sudden confession had made you want to eat up your prior words. Instead, you parted your lips and broke off eye contact. Kageyama? Finally letting someone else take the reins? From all the stories you’d heard from Hinata, Tsukishima,Yamaguchi, and Miwa, this looked to be a pretty big stepping stone for someone like him.

“It’s okay, actually,” you finally said. You turned back to the game and slid one of your own coins inside the slot. “What did you say about pressing faster again?”

Kageyama held your hands and fingers with the same tenderness as he would a volleyball. The hold that said ‘I’m going to love and cherish you, but I’m also going to push you to your limits.’ In a good way, of course. He smiled at you. Coming from someone like him, it took everything for your heart not to melt right then and there. You saved the memory in case you needed it again.

His exasperated tone had switched to a more patronizing one, like a parent teaching a child how to ride a bike for the first time. The occasional ‘Jump!’s and ‘There’s a barrel right there!’ were accompanied by his firm pressing every time your fingers wouldn’t bend to your will. His fingers truly were a godsend, you thought.

A boy, a tangerine, and a salt shaker passed by in the middle of your game. “Oh? Where did the King of Donkey Kong go?” Tsukishima asked. His use of Kageyama’s nickname in the streets earned him a dirty glare from your boyfriend.

“Yeah, Kageyama,” Hinata added. “Why can’t you be like that to everyone?” Kageyama scoffed. He guided the Mario on the screen, saving him from an incoming barrel that you didn’t catch sight of.

“Because she’s my girlfriend,” he says, his trademark scowl making an appearance again. His smile’s fifteen minutes of fame were up, the limelight now shining back to his ever present scowl.

The group of other boys snicker as they make their way to their intended games. Kageyama’s breath on your neck now feels more relaxed as he plays with you. You

“What was that all about?” you asked, when the game was finally over.

“Nothing.” He doesn’t seem to give it much thought as he laces his pinky in yours, the gesture sweet and unique to Kageyama.

“You sure?”

Kageyama looks to the floor. There was a spot of mud on his Converse, probably from those rascals earlier that morning when he had tried to go get a gift for you earlier this morning. Even more was probably stained on his jeans. Thank goodness you didn’t look out your window when the tragedy happened. He remembered not wanting to show up to your house looking so soiled, so he took refuge at his usual place: the arcade.

If only you could see that his letterman jacket was two sizes two small and had ‘SHOYO’ on the tag, he would have—

“If I had to tell everyone why I love you,” he blurted out. He trains his eyes on the grey tiles beneath again. “I would talk myself hoarse at the end of the day, (Y/N).”

You smiled at his words, catching sight of his mud-stained jeans, a still pristine ring box peeking out of the pockets.

#kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama #kageyama tobio x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #karasuno x reader #kageyama oneshots #kageyama imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshots #kageyama au #haikyuu au #blast to the past #arcade #gamer au

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fuse2dx · 5 years ago

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June '20

Trials of Mana

Maybe not the highest profile remake Square-Enix have put out in recent memory, but one that was pretty exciting for me. I played a fan translation of the Super Famicom original some 20 years ago, so while it's not particularly fresh in my head, there's just enough there to enjoy some infrequent little pangs of nostalgia. The move to 3D has made for some welcome changes to to combat - jumping adds a vertical element to combat that wasn't present before, and enemy specials being clearly telegraphed and avoidable puts a little more control in your hands. There's still a good amount of 16 bit jank though - combo timing feels unreliable, the camera's often a pain, there's plenty of questionable hit detection, and you definitely wouldn't want to leave your fate solely in the hands of your party's AI. Willing to put most of this aside, what actually mattered more to me was that it still had the kind of playful, breezy nature, it looks and plays nicely, and that it progresses at a nice clip. Party selection will change the way you fight moment-to-moment, but only provides minor and very brief deviance from the main storyline, most of which is the kind of schlocky cartoon villainy that will have you looking for a skip button before it would illicit any kind of emotional response. But you know what? Overall, I still enjoyed it a lot.

So while it may not be revolutionising the action RPG, what it does show is that Square-Enix is capable of acknowledging their history of previously untranslated works, and that they also now have a pretty good template for getting a B-tier remake of such titles out in a reasonable timeframe. Where do I send my wish list in to, team?

Sayonara Wild Hearts

As a one-liner found on the back of the box, 'A pop album video game' is about as on-the-nose as it gets. The old "it's not for everyone" adage is definitely applicable, and its defiance of traditional video game metrics is not in any way subtle. How sophisticated is the gameplay? Not particularly. How long is it? Not very. But how does it make you feel? Now you're talking. It presents a simple but deeply relatable story of a broken heart, and leads from there with a catchy tune into a fast and colourful onslaught of new ideas, perspectives, and concepts. That is to say: it has the potential to make you feel all kinds of things.

One especially celebratory note was how well the game is structured to fit into the album structure it boasts about. Stages flow quickly into one another, and while shorter, more compounding numbers are often about introducing new ideas and themes, moving on to the next is a few simple button presses and a brief, well-hidden loading window away. Inevitably there are more standout stages, those that feel like the hit singles; the longer, verse-chorus-verse type joints that grant the space for more fleshed out visual story telling, and that smartly synchronise their percussive hits, soaring vocals and the like to appropriate beats of play. A lot of the gameplay can easily (and cynically) be reduced to "it's an endless runner", but to liken this to a cheap re-skin of a confirmed hit-maker is to wilfully dismiss so much of what it does better and so much beside. You can play it on damn near everything, and for the time it takes, it's well worth doing.

Twinkle Star Sprites

I've meant to play this countless times before. I've almost certainly passed it by while strolling through arcades, the Saturn version has never been hoovered up into my collection, and the PS2 collection this particular version belongs to - ADK Damashii - is no longer a cheap addition to anyone's library. The digital version of it for PS4 however was however recently on sale at a point that saw me receive change from a fiver. David Dickinson would be proud.

Having now credit-fed my way through the game's brief arcade mode, there's no doubt in my mind that the nuance of its systems are going to be glossed over in this rather ham-fisted appraisal. At least at face value, there's plenty of character and charm to appreciate in its colourful and cutesy style. As a two-player, vertically split-screen title, its a pretty clean break from a lot of a shooter's typical characteristics - rather than 6(ish) stages of hell, its a series of one on one battles - and all the better suited to 2 players for it. As enemy waves come at you, taking them out in chains can generate attacks to the other player; however if these attacks are too small then it's entirely possible they'll be killed off again, and an even bigger attack will come straight back at you. Think of a bit like competitive Tetris, but with shooting rather than puzzling. It's a neat and curious little game, that's likely best experienced properly, with a friend on the other side of the sofa to hurl abuse at.

Blasphemous

Let's get the lazy-but-effective description out of the way: it's a 2D MetroidVania Souls-like. You've got "that" type of map, definitely-not-bonfires and definitely-not-Estus Flasks. You are encouraged to return to your body upon death, the combat system is very reliant on parries and dodge-rolls, and there's even a dedicated "lore" button to use on every item you pick up.

While this likely sounds dismissive, it's more about addressing the elephant in the room. To give some context, these are both types of games that I love, and the end product here has done a pretty good job of bringing them together. The exploration is pleasantly open - gatekeeping is typically done less by specific items and abilities, and more by just which areas you're brave enough to poke your head into. It's a little bit of a shame that most of the new abilities have to be switched out for others rather than adding to a core arsenal of moves, but at the same time its base setup gives you plenty of ways to deal with any number of combat scenarios. This is of course best demonstrated by the boss encounters, which are wonderful affairs - big, gruesome, thoughtful variations on approaches to combat, which drop in at a nice pace to keep you from ever getting too cocky. The theming in general is wonderful, and the name is certainly appropriate - there's a lot of deep catholic inspiration in its gorgeous backdrops and environments, but then layered on top are some chilling elements of religious iconography, along with a cast of disturbing devotees and martyrs to sufficiently unsettle you. It's arguably a small intersection of the gaming population that it'll appeal to, but if you're in there, it's a real treat.

Death Come True

The first thing you see upon starting is the game's central character breaking right through the fourth wall to tell you directly not to stream the game or to share anything that might spoil the story. The first rule of Death Come True, and so on. I consider myself fairly well versed in such etiquette, so to then have the screenshot function entirely disabled for the whole game felt a little like being given a slap on the wrists for a crime I had no intention of committing. I don't envy the team trying to market it, that's for sure.

The reasoning behind this is clear at least - it's a game that is in total service of its plot. Consider a mash-up of a 'Choose your own adventure' book and a series of full-motion videos, and you're mostly there. Unless you were to walk away from the controller or perhaps fall asleep, there seems very little chance that your play time will deviate from the 3 hour estimate - which will certainly put some people off, but is understandable given the production values, and personally, quite welcome in the first place. In terms of replay value, there are branching paths that a single route will obviously skip: as an example of this, in looking up a screenshot to use in lieu of taking my own, I found a promotional image of the central cast, only to not recognise one of them at all. One thing that such a short run-time does ensure though, is that minute-for-minute, there's plenty of action; without wanting to speak about the story itself (rather than in fear of reprise for doing so, I might add), it kicks off with plenty of intrigue, shortly thereafter switching to full-on action, and then strikes a pretty fine balancing act between the two for its run time. It doesn't get quite as deep or as complex as I would've hoped given the team's pedigree, but I do like it, and think it'd actually be a pretty fun title to play with folks who normally don't concern themselves with games. By the same token, it's probably not for the 'hardcore' types looking for something to string out over dozens of hours.

Persona 5: Dancing in Starlight

After the generous main course that was Persona 5 Royal, I figured that I'd follow up with dessert. I did however wait until a weekend where I knew my girlfriend would be away, so as not to trigger any unpleasant flashbacks to looped battle themes, and the chirpy, indecipherable voices of Japanese schoolkids that made it so painful to endure as a non-gaming cohabitant.

Immediately, it's clear that very little has changed since Persona 4's take on the rhythm action genre. The core game, while still functional and fairly enjoyable, hasn't changed a lick. Perhaps the most notable improvement to the package as a whole is in scaling back on a dedicated story mode, and instead just having a series of uninspired but far less time-consuming set of social link scenes that pad things out. The biggest flaw is repeated wholesale though, in that trying to stretch out noteworthy tracks from a single game's playlist into a dedicated music game leads to repetition - and there is a much less prolific gathering of artists involved in remixes this time. I'd be willing to wager that it's a very similar story once again with Persona 3: Dancing in Moonlight, but I'm not about to ruin a perfectly good dinner to start with the sweet just to find out, if you'll excuse a second outing of the metaphor. Still, again compare these to Theatrhythm though - where Square-Enix plundered the Final Fantasy series in its entirety, along with spin-offs and other standalone titles to put together a library of music worthy for the one single game. Cobble the tunes from Personas 3-5 together into one game, and you're still coming up very short by comparison.

#trials of mana #seiken densetsu 3 #sayonara wild hearts #twinkle star sprites #blasphemous #death come true #persona 5 dancing in starlight

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gamersonthego · 5 years ago

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Chase Koeneke’s Top 10 Handheld Games of 2019

With the Switch in full gear and the debut of Apple Arcade, 2019 was another solid year for handheld games. Sequels to many of my favorite games were plentiful, but very few absolutely blew me away. And a few games I really loved (Slay The Spire, Return Of The Obra Dinn, Super Mega Baseball 2) were handheld ports of previous games I didn’t feel super great about adding to my list. So instead, I left this final year of the decade feeling content, and that’s perfectly OK too. So here are 10 games I liked this year, even if I didn’t love them.

10. Tetris 99 (Switch)

I love pretty much all iterations of Tetris. From the iconic Game Boy release I would play in the car, to the Facebook-based Tetris Friends that kept me company through many boring lectures in college, to last year’s gorgeous and powerful Tetris Effect, Tetris is A-OK with me.

Battle royale games on the other hand? Not so much. Despite enjoying shooters in general, I’ve yet to play a single match of PUBG, Fortnite or Apex Legends, and I’m not itching to change that anytime soon. But I found the mechanics of the battle royale genre to translate rather brilliantly to Tetris. It’s a thin experience (even with the expansions made to the game), but it’s an addictive one. And the fact I never quite crested the mountaintop – even if I did get a second place finish to video game Santa himself, Wario64 – is one of my biggest 2019 gaming regrets.

9. Mini Motorways (Apple Arcade)

Dinosaur Polo Club’s previous game, Mini Metro, made my top games of 2016 list, so it’s not surprising to see their latest game show up on this year’s list. What is a little surprising is how much of what could be said about Mini Metro can be echoed here on Mini Motorways. From my 2016 write-up:

Mini Metro wins my heart for its amazing ability to be serenely relaxing and nail-bitingly stressful simultaneously. Watching the train cars move back and forth around the sharp, minimalistic map brings a calming sense of satisfaction, but when the ever-growing amount of train stations hits critical mass, there were few experiences more harrowing this year. The basic strategy is smart and layered, preferring to let you experiment rather than tutorializing you to death up front.

You could remove the word “train” and get yourself a pretty accurate Mini Motorways review. But unfortunately, it’s not quite that simple. While I love a lot of what’s new in Mini Motorways – being able to create partial roads to better plan out cities from the start, colorful and sprightly graphics – the strategy and variety on display here actually pales to the previous game. One Mini Motorways upgrade, the traffic light, doesn’t even seem to function correctly. And the fun modifiers in Mini Metro’s different locations like Tokyo’s shinkasen are nowhere to be found here. Every city has a body of water to deal with, it’s just that some are slightly more of a pain than others. That’s not variety.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Mini Motorways and have put a lot of time into it. It’s my #9 after all. But if I had to pick just one to take up space on my phone, Mini Metro is getting that spot every time.

8. Risk Of Rain 2 (Switch, PS4, Xbox One, PC)

The first Risk of Rain also appeared on my games of 2016 list, and like Mini Motorways, the sequel is good, just not quite as good…and also feels a bit unfinished. But unlike Mini Motorways, Risk of Rain 2 made a bold change, ditching the two-dimensional world and sprite-based graphics for 3D polygons.

Bringing the z-axis to the tried and true roguelike mechanics of the original Risk of Rain makes for a new experience, for better and worse.

The worlds of RoR2 are bigger and more awe-inspiring. The 3D nature makes some classes and items feel more viable (like the melee Mercenary class) and it’s much easier to dodge incoming enemy attacks.

But the shift in perspective is anything but perfect. Just as enemies miss you more, so too will you often miss your own targets. The camera is both too close and yet also too far away, depending on the situation. The levels, after your inspired awe has left you, are barren, and the main objective of hunting for a teleporter to take you to the next area can be a frustrating venture as they are much more easily camouflaged in the polygonal zones.

It’s also just…not done. As of this writing, there’s no final boss fight, just a shrine that lets you sacrifice yourself to say you’ve “won.” There are missing classes on the menu and the artifact modifiers tab says “coming soon.” Last time I checked, the Switch was not an early access machine, and the fact that this version also gets a “Switch tax” makes it go down even more bitterly.

So why would a deeply flawed game like this make my list? Because the core loop of Risk of Rain is still better than most experiences out there. Stacking power-ups to near omnipotence is a blast, and running around with a friend or three in co-op is more fun than ever. Risk of Rain 2 may eventually become a great game someday, but for now, it’s a good game. And despite its issues, it’s still good enough for me.

7. Baba Is You (Switch, PC)

Sokoban meets coding logic; Baba Is You layers these puzzling elements to create something that feels familiar, yet fresh. It’s a simple concept: You push physical words around the self-contained areas to manipulate the level’s rules and collect a flag…or a different win condition if you’re clever enough.

Take the screenshot above for instance. “Baba is You” means you control Baba. “Flag is Win” means you need to touch the flag to win. But say you push the words “is Win” to vertically align with “Baba.” Now Baba is both you, the player and also the win condition, so you can forget the flag. You win automatically!

The puzzles continue in that fashion, ramping up the challenge very quickly (or maybe I’m just not very good at it.) I’m nowhere near mastering it, but for its highly inventive mix of environmental and logic problems, I’ve got an incredible amount of respect for it.

6. Assemble With Care (Apple Arcade)

I’m kind of down on Apple Arcade as a concept (I’d rather just pay for the few games I want and be done with it), but if games like Assemble With Care keep coming out, I might have to soften my stance. Assemble sees you repairing broken objects like rotary phones, cassette players and watches by using the touchscreen to pull objects apart, replace their busted components and piece them back together. It’s wonderfully serene: There’s no time limit, no logic-defying puzzle box qualities, no Operation-style buzzer if and when you make a mistake. It’s just nice.

A lesser game would leave it at that, but Assemble goes a step further, wrapping the repair mechanics with a short, satisfying story with solid writing and voice acting. It’s this year’s Florence, and while it may not be as impactful as that game, it’s a must play for anyone with an Apple Arcade subscription (or a good reason to burn your free trial if you’re not a subscriber).

5. Untitled Goose Game (Switch, PS4, Xbox One, PC)

Like Assemble With Care, Untitled Goose Game does not hang its hat so much on its mechanics as what it chooses to do with them. There are no fail conditions to Goose Game and what challenge it holds is relatively minimal. But it’s a true sandbox game in that it’s loaded the small town you inhabit with lots of little things to play with and discover. It’s Grand Theft Auto, except they’ve replaced carjacking and shooting with taking an old man’s stool or honking at a kid until he hides inside a phone booth. You’re an asshole, you’re just not a malicious asshole.

A list of tasks helps to keep you focused, but it’s more of a nudge in the right direction so you can discover something else to mess with or people to bother. And once the game is “over,” you get a new, more inventive list of tasks, all with the benefit of the entire sandbox available to you. It might not be the most complex game, but when it comes to the enjoyment of play, it’s one of the best this year.

4. The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening (Switch)

I’m well known for my aversion to finishing Zelda games. I’ve played almost all of them and have finished exactly two of them (Oracle of Seasons and A Link Between Worlds, probably not the two you’d expect). And despite enjoying it, even the original Link’s Awakening eluded me, so seeing it get an overhaul in the form of a Switch version excited me. Not only was this a second chance for me to play a classic, but it was also another opportunity for the world to see how great handheld games have always been.

Outside of the really well done tilt-shifted graphics, the remake is mostly made up of small quality of life improvements. The overworld isn’t as rigidly screen-based anymore, allowing the player a little more finesse in dealing with enemies. Some equipment, that on the original Game Boy version must be switched in and out ad nauseam, now has dedicated buttons on the controller (never again must you be without your sword). All these decisions allow for the charm of the design to shine through even easier than its original version.

Would it be nice if the frame rate were more consistent? Sure. Is the Chamber Dungeon a completely extraneous and half-baked idea? Totally. Does it tarnish the fun that’s there to be had here? Not in the slightest.

I’m proud to say Link’s Awakening has joined the pantheon of Zelda games I’ve actually finished. Now maybe someday I’ll finish that “Link to the Past” that everyone keeps talking about…

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3. Super Robot Wars T (Switch, PS4)

Super Robot Wars X made my list last year despite me having only played the PS4 version. So it feels a little more legitimate to have played the Switch version of Super Robot Wars T this year. It’s still not available in the US (you have to import a copy of the Asia version that comes with English subtitles,) and it’s still an extremely flawed game with its repetitive and uninspired level design and overly complicated systems, but man, I love this bad game so much.

I love tinkering in T’s dense mechanics, upgrading my anime mechs for perfect turn-based strategy synergy. I love jumping through hoops to find the right way to recruit new units. And I still love the over the top battle animations – seriously, if you’re bitching about Pokemon’s weak animations, the video above will show you Super Robot Wars has your back.

Plus they’ve added Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop this time around, so there’s at least one recognizable character from a non-Gundam anime you’ve probably seen in here. That’s…progress.

Look, this game probably isn’t for you, but it is totally for me. And Christmas came early this year in that Super Robot Wars V (which came before last year’s X – the naming conventions are not here to make sense) got ported to the Switch, and last year’s Super Robot Wars X will get ported soon too. That’s a lot of anime turn-based strategy to play, and I couldn’t be happier.

2. Pokemon Sword/Shield (Switch)

After much Internet handwringing from an extremely vocal minority, the new Pokemon games came out. And, what do you know, they’re good. Really good. They continue the slow evolution (I’m so sorry) of the franchise with small quality of life enhancements, a few new features and a little trimming of the vestiges. I appreciate the renewed focus on gyms and gym leaders and the single connected world, even if it basically two circles with a straight bit in the middle.

The new Pokemon are…fine. Very few that I detest, but also very few that I’d be willing to write home about. The new Max Raid Battles are generally pretty cool, but they all take advantage of the gimmick I’m least thrilled about: Dynamaxing. Making a Pokemon bigger for three turns is not all that compelling to me. And the Gigantamax variants with their special appearances are neat, but it’s basically just a worse form of Mega Evolution.

So yeah, it’s a good entry in the series. And a good Pokemon game is pretty hard to top in my book.

1. Fire Emblem Three Houses (Switch)

Hard to top, that is, unless you’re Fire Emblem. But despite being a new game in my favorite franchise, I was actually dreading Three Houses. The pre-release coverage did not leave me optimistic. Old features I hated were making a comeback (cough, weapon durability, cough). The art style couldn’t hold a candle to the jaw-droppingly gorgeous previous entry, Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia. And whether Intelligent Systems was admitting it or not, there was a strong Persona-fication at play here (don’t get me wrong, I love Persona, but if you’re going to get your Persona chocolate in my Fire Emblem peanut butter, I’d rather you just make a sequel to Tokyo Mirage Sessions #FE.)

So the hopes, they were not high. But Three Houses exceeded my expectations with a cast of characters I really grew to love. My loveable loser Golden Deer crew went from zeroes to heroes, and the ability to recruit students from other classes meant I got to make my dream team (Hilda, Petra, and Lysithea were my undisputed MVPs) when saving the world.

The story was deep and complex, and hearing how it changes based on which house you align with is pretty cool. I enjoyed the control I had in molding my students, and appreciated seeing them have a breakthrough in something they used to struggle with, and it becoming one of their best qualities. Turning a lazy, valley girl like Hilda into a front line tank and hearing her bitching about it every step of the way was especially enjoyable.

It’s not my favorite in the series, but I’m glad it’s seen pretty universal appeal and sales from the community at large, cementing its status as one of Nintendo’s premier franchises. Someday I will play through all four of its routes, but for now, I’m content with it comfortably sitting as my favorite handheld game of 2019.

#goty #gotggoty2019 #chase koeneke #tetris 99 #mini motorways #risk of rain 2 #baba is you #assemble with care #untitled goose game #the legend of zelda link's awakening #link's awakening #super robot wars t #pokemon sword #pokemon shield #Fire Emblem Three Houses

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achronologyofbits · 5 years ago

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GOTY 2019

I wanted to write a personal Game of the Year list, but I realized I really didn’t play that many games that were new in 2019. So I’m ranking them, but it’s less a “top 10” and more a “10 games I played and how I felt about them.”

10. Kingdom Hearts III

Kingdom Hearts III plays like a game from 2005.

I’m not sure I can fully articulate what I mean by that. Maybe I mean its combat is largely simplistic and button-mashy. Maybe I mean its rhythms of level traversal and cutscene exposition dumps are archaic and outdated. Maybe feeling like this game is a relic from another time is unavoidable, given how many years have passed since its first series entry.

But there’s also something joyful and celebratory about it all — something kind of refreshing about a work that knows only a tiny portion of its players will understand all its references and lore and world-building, and just doesn’t care.

Despite all the mockery and memery surrounding its fiction, Kingdom Hearts’ strongest storytelling moments are actually pretty simple. They’re about the struggle to exist, to belong, and to define what those things mean for yourself. I think that’s why the series reaches the people it does.

Those moments make Kingdom Hearts III worth defending, if not worth recommending.

9. Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

Admittedly, I only played about 10-15 hours of this in 2019. Perhaps fittingly, that’s about the amount of time I originally spent on Dark Souls when it released in 2011. I bounced off, hard, because I didn’t understand what it was asking of me. Once I did — though, it has to be said, I needed other people to explain those expectations to me, because the game sure as hell didn’t — Dark Souls became an all-time favorite. And I’ve played every FromSoft game since then, and enjoyed them all. Until Sekiro.

Part of it is, again, down to expectation. Dark Souls trained its players on a certain style of combat: cautious movements, careful attention to spacing, committing to weighty attacks, waiting for counterattacks. In every game since then, FromSoft have iterated on those expectations in the same direction in an attempt to encourage players to be less cautious and more aggressive. The series moved from tank-heavy play in Dark Souls, to dual-wielding in DS2, to weapon arts and reworking poise in DS3, to the system of regaining health by attacking in Bloodborne.

In some ways, Sekiro is a natural continuation of this trend toward aggression, but in others, it’s a complete U-turn. Bloodborne eschewed blocking and prioritized dodging as the quickest, most effective defensive option. Sekiro does exactly the opposite. Blocking is always your first choice, parrying is essential instead of largely optional, and dodging is near useless except in special cases. FromSoft spent five games teaching me my habits, and it was just too hard for me to break them for Sekiro.

I have other issues, too — health/damage upgrades are gated behind boss fights, so grinding is pointless; the setting and story lack some of the creativity of the game’s predecessors; there’s no variety of builds or playstyles — but the FromSoft magic is still there, too. Nothing can match the feeling of beating a Souls-series boss. And the addition of a grappling hook makes the verticality of Sekiro’s level design fascinating.

I dunno. I feel like there’s more here I’d enjoy, if I ever manage to push through the barriers. Maybe — as I finally did with the first Dark Souls, over a year after its release — someday I will.

8. Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order

In December, my wife and I traveled to Newport Beach for a family wedding, and we stayed an extra day to visit Disneyland. As an early birthday present, Aubrey bought me the experience of building a lightsaber in Galaxy’s Edge. And the experience is definitely what you’re paying for; the lightsaber itself is cool, but it’s cool because it’s made from parts I selected, with a blade color I chose, and I got to riff and banter with in-character park employees while doing it. (“Can you actually read those?” one asked me in an awed voice, when I selected a lightsaber hilt portion adorned with ancient Jedi runes. “Not yet,” I told her. “We’ll see if the Force can teach me.”)

Maybe it’s because I just had that experience, but by far my favorite moment in Jedi: Fallen Order is when main character Cal Kestis overcomes his own fears and memories to forge his own lightsaber, using a kyber crystal that calls to him personally. It’s maybe the only part of the game that made me feel like a Jedi, in a way the hours of Souls-inspired lightsaber slashing didn’t.

I think that’s telling. And I think it’s because so much of Fallen Order is derivative of other works, both in the current canon of gaming and of Star Wars. That’s not to say it’s bad — the mélange of Uncharted/Tomb Raider traversal, combat that evokes Souls and God of War, and vaguely Metroid-y power acquisition and exploration mostly works — but it’s just a titch less than the sum of those parts.

Similarly, as a Star Wars story, it feels under-baked. There’s potential in exploring the period immediately after Order 66 and the Jedi purge, but you only see glimpses of that. And I understand the difficulty of telling a story where the characters succeed but in a way that doesn’t affect established canon, but it still seemed like there were a couple of missed opportunities at touching base with the larger Star Wars universe. (And the one big reference that does pop up at the end feels forced and unrealistic.)

When I got home from California, I took my lightsaber apart just to see how it all worked. Outside of the hushed tones and glowing lights of Savi’s Workshop, it seems a little less special. It’s still really cool…but I sort of wish I had had a wider variety of parts to choose from. And that I had bought some of the other crystal colors. Just in case.

That’s how I feel about Jedi: Fallen Order. I had fun with it. But it’s easier now to see the parts for what they are.

7. Untitled Goose Game

Aubrey and I first saw this game at PAX, at a booth which charmingly recreated the garden of the game’s first level. We were instantly smitten, and as I’ve introduced it to family and friends, they’ve all had the same reaction. When we visited my brother’s family in Florida over the holidays, my eight-year-old niece and nephew peppered me with questions about some of the more complex puzzles. Even my father, whose gaming experience basically topped out at NES Open Tournament Golf in 1991, gave it a shot.

I’m not sure I have a lot more to say here, other than a few bullet points:

1) I love that Untitled Goose Game is completely nonviolent. It would’ve been easy to add a “peck” option as another gameplay verb, another means of mischief. (And, from what I understand, it would be entirely appropriate, given the aggression of actual geese.) That the developers resisted this is refreshing.

2) I’m glad a game this size can have such a wide reach, and that it doesn’t have to be a platform exclusive.

3) Honk.

6. Tetris 99

Despite the number of hours I’ve spent playing games, and the variety of genres that time has spanned, I’m not much for competitive gaming. This is partially because the competitive aspect of my personality has waned with age, and partially because I am extremely bad at most multiplayer games.

The one exception to this is Tetris.

I am a Tetris GOD.

Of course, that’s an incredible overstatement. Now that I’ve seen real Ecstasy of Order, Grandmaster-level Tetris players, I realize how mediocre I am. But in my real, actual life, I have never found anyone near my skill level. In high school, I would bring two Game Boys, two copies of Tetris, and a link cable on long bus rides to marching band competitions, hoping to find willing challengers. The Game Boys themselves became very popular. Playing me did not.

Prior to Tetris 99, the only version of the game that gave me any shred of humility in a competitive sense was Tetris DS, where Japanese players I found online routinely handed me my ass. I held my own, too, but that was the first time in my life when I wasn’t light-years beyond any opponent.

As time passed and internet gaming and culture became more accessible, I soon realized I was nowhere near the true best Tetris players in the world. Which was okay by me. I’m happy to be a big fish in a small pond, in pretty much all aspects of my life.

Tetris 99 has given me a perfectly sized pond. I feel like I’m a favorite to win every round I play, and I usually finish in the top 10 or higher. But it’s also always a challenge, because there’s just enough metagame to navigate. Have I targeted the right enemies? Do I have enough badges to make my Tetrises hit harder? Can I stay below the radar for long enough? These aspects go beyond and combine with the fundamental piece-dropping in a way I absolutely love.

The one thing I haven’t done yet is win an Invictus match (a mode reserved only for those who have won a standard 99-player match). But it’s only a matter of time.

5. Pokemon Sword/Shield

I don’t think I’ve played a Pokemon game through to completion since the originals. I always buy them, but I always seem to lose steam halfway through. But I finished Shield over the holidays, and I had a blast doing it.

Because I’m a mostly casual Pokeplayer, the decision to not include every ‘mon in series history didn’t bother me at all. I really enjoyed learning about new Pokemon and forcing myself to try moving away from my usual standards. (Although I did still use a Gyarados in my final team.)

As a fan of English soccer, the stadium-centric, British-flavored setting also contributed to my desire to see the game through. Changing into my uniform and walking onto a huge, grassy pitch, with tens of thousands of cheering fans looking on, really did give me a different feeling than battles in past games, which always seemed to be in weird, isolated settings.

I’m not sure I’ll push too far into the postgame; I’ve never felt the need to catch ‘em all. But I had a great time with the ones I caught.

4. The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening

I have a strange relationship with the Zelda series, especially now. They are my wife’s favorite games of all time. But I don’t know if I’ve ever actually sat down and beaten one since the original Link’s Awakening. Even with Breath of the Wild, which I adore, I was content to watch Aubrey do the heavy lifting. I know the series well, I’ve played bits of all of them, but most haven’t stuck with me.

Link’s Awakening has. I wrote a piece once about its existential storytelling and how it affected me as a child. I love the way the graphics in this remake preserve that dreamlike quality. It’s pretty much a re-skin of the original game, but the cutesy, toy-set aesthetic pairs well with the heavy material. If this is all a dream, whose dream is it? And when we wake up, what happens to it?

Truthfully, some of the puzzles and design decisions haven’t held up super well. Despite the fresh coat of paint, it definitely feels like a 25-year-old game. But I’m so glad this version exists.

Oh, and that solo clarinet in the Mabe Village theme? *Chef’s kiss*

3. Control

I actually haven’t seen a lot of the influences Control wears on its sleeve. I’ve never gone completely through all the episodes of the X-Files, Fringe, and Twin Peaks; I’m only vaguely familiar with the series of “creepypasta” fiction called SCP Foundation; and I have never endeavored to sit through a broadcast of Coast to Coast AM. I’m also unfamiliar with Remedy’s best-known work in the genre, Alan Wake. But I know enough about all those works to be able to identify their inspiration on the Federal Bureau of Control, Jesse Faden, and the Oldest House.

Control is an interesting game to recommend (which I do), because I��m not sure how much I really enjoyed its combat. For most of the game, it’s a pretty standard third-person shooter. You can’t snap to cover, which indicates you’re intended to stay on the move. This becomes even more obvious when you gain the ability to air dash and fly. But you do need to use cover, because Jesse doesn’t have much health even at the end of the game. So combat encounters can get out of hand quickly, and there’s little incentive to keep fighting enemies in the late game. Yet they respawn at a frustratingly frequent rate. The game’s checkpointing system compounds this — you only respawn at “control points,” which act like Souls-style bonfires. This leads to some unfortunately tedious runbacks after boss fights.

On the other hand, Jesse’s telekinesis power always feels fantastic, and varying your attacks between gunshots, thrown objects, melee, and mind controlling enemies can be frenetic fun. That all comes to a head in the game’s combat (and perhaps aesthetic?) high point, the Ashtray Maze. To say more would be doing a disservice. It’s awesome.

The rest of the gameplay is awesome, too — and I do call it “gameplay,” though unfortunately you don’t have many options for affecting the world beyond violence. The act of exploring the Oldest House and scouring it for bureaucratic case files, audio recordings, and those unbelievably creepy “Threshold Kids” videos is pure joy. The way the case files are redacted leaves just enough to the imagination, and the idea of a federal facility being built on top of and absorbed into a sort of nexus of interdimensional weirdness is perfectly executed. And what’s up with that motel? And the alien, all-seeing, vaguely sinister Board? So cool.

With such great worldbuilding, I did wish for a little more player agency. There are no real dialogue choices — no way to imbue Jesse with any character traits beyond what’s pre-written for her — and only one ending. This kind of unchecked weird science is the perfect environment for forcing the player into difficult decisions (what do we study? How far is too far? How do we keep it all secret?), and that just isn’t part of the game at all. Which is fine — Control isn’t quite an immersive sim like Prey, and it’s not trying to be. I just see some similarities and potential, and I wish they had been explored a little.

But Control’s still a fantastic experience, and in any other year, it probably would’ve been my number one pick. That’s how good these next two games are.

2. Outer Wilds

Honestly, this is the best game of 2019. But I’m not listing it as number one because I didn’t play most of it — Aubrey did. Usually we play everything together; even if we’re not passing a controller back and forth, one of us will watch while the other one plays. And that definitely happened for a large chunk of Outer Wilds. But Aubrey did make some key discoveries while I was otherwise occupied, so while I think it’s probably the best game, it’s not the one I personally spent the most time with.

The time I did spend, though? Wow. From the moment you wake up at the campfire and set off in search of your spaceship launch codes, it’s clear that this is a game that revels in discovery. Discovery for its own sake, for the furthering of knowledge, for the protection of others, for the sheer fun of it. Some games actively discourage players from asking the question, “Hey, what’s that over there?” Outer Wilds begs you to ask it, and then rewards you not with treasure or statistical growth, but with the opportunity to ask again, about something even more wondrous and significant.

There are so many memorable moments of discovery in this game. The discovery that, hey, does that sun look redder to you than it used to? The discovery that, whoa, why did I wake up where I started after seemingly dying in space? Your first trip through a black hole. Your first trip to the quantum moon. Your first trip to the weird, bigger-on-the-inside fog-filled heart of a certain dark, brambly place. (Aubrey won’t forget that any time soon.)

They take effort, those moments. They do have to be earned, and it isn’t easy. Your spaceship flies like it looks: sketchy, taped together, powered by ingenuity and, like, marshmallows, probably. Some of the leaps you have to make — both of intuition and of jetpack — are a little too far. (We weren’t too proud to look up a couple hints when we were truly stuck.) But in the tradition of the best adventure games (which is what this is, at heart), you have everything you need right from the beginning. All you have to do is gather the knowledge to understand it and put it into action.

And beyond those moments of logical and graphical discovery, there’s real emotion and pathos, too. As you explore the remnants of the lost civilization that preceded yours, your only method of communication is reading their writing. And as you do, you start to get a picture of them not just as individuals (who fight, flirt, and work together to help each other), but as a species whose boundless thirst for discovery was their greatest asset, highest priority, undoing, and salvation, all at once.

I don’t think I can say much more without delving into spoilers, or retreading ground others have covered. (Go read Austin Walker’s beautiful and insightful review for more.) It’s an incredible game, and one everyone with even a passing interest in the medium should try.

(Last thing: Yes, I manually flew to the Sun Station and got inside. No, I don’t recommend it.)

1. Fire Emblem: Three Houses

If I hadn’t just started a replay of this game, I don’t think I’d be listing it in the number one slot. I started a replay because I showed it to my brother when we visited him in Florida last month, and immediately, all the old feelings came flooding back. I needed another hit.

No game this year has been as compelling for me. That’s an overused word in entertainment criticism, but I mean it literally: There have been nights where I absolutely HAVE to keep playing (much to Aubrey’s dismay). One more week of in-game time. One more study session to raise a skill rank. One more meal together so I can recruit another student. One more battle. Just a little longer.

I’m not sure I can put my finger on the source of that compulsion. Part of it is the excellence of craftsmanship on display; if any technical or creative aspect of Three Houses was less polished than it is, I probably wouldn’t feel so drawn to it. But the two big answers, I think, are the characters and their growth, both mechanically and narratively.

At the start of the game, you pick one of the titular three houses to oversee as professor. While this choice defines who you’ll have in your starting party, that can be mitigated later, as almost every other student from the other two houses can be recruited to join yours. What you’re really choosing is which perspective you’ll see the events of the story from, and through whose eyes: Edelgard of the Black Eagles, Dimitri of the Blue Lions, or Claude of the Golden Deer. (This is also why the game almost demands at least three playthroughs.)

These three narratives are deftly written so you simultaneously feel like you made the only possible canonical choice, while also sowing questions into your decision-making. Edelgard’s furious desire for change is just but perhaps not justifiable; Dimitri hides an obsession with revenge behind a façade of noblesse oblige; Claude is more conniving and pragmatic than he lets on. No matter who you side with, you’ll eventually have to face the others. And everyone can make a case that they, not you, are on the right side.

This is especially effective because almost every character in Three Houses is dealing with a legacy of war and violence. A big theme of the game’s story is how those experiences inform and influence the actions of the victims. What steps are justified to counteract such suffering? How do you break the cycle if you can’t break the power structures that perpetuate it? How do good people end up fighting for bad causes?

While you and your child soldiers (yeah, you do kind of have to just skip over that part; they’re in their late teens, at least? Still not good enough, but could be worse?) are grappling with these questions, they’re also growing in combat strength, at your direction. This is the part that really grabbed me and my lizard brain — watching those numbers get bigger was unbelievably gratifying. Each character class has certain skill requirement prerequisites, and as professor, you get to define how your students meet those requirements, and which they focus on. Each student has certain innate skills, but they also have hidden interests that only come to the surface with guidance. A character who seems a shoo-in to serve as a white mage might secretly make an incredibly effective knight; someone who seems destined for a life as a swordsman suddenly shows a talent for black magic. You can lean into their predilections, or go against them, with almost equal efficacy.

For me, this was the best part of Three Houses, and the part that kept me up long after my wife had gone to bed. Planning a student’s final battle role takes far-seeing planning and preparation, and each step along the way felt thrilling. How can you not forge a connection with characters you’ve taken such pains to help along the way? How can you not explode with joy when they reach their goals?

That’s the real draw of Fire Emblem: Three Houses, I think: the joy of seeing people you care about grow, while simultaneously confronting those you once cared about, but who followed another path. No wonder I wanted to start another playthrough. I think I’ll be starting them all over again for a long time.

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themanicnami · 7 years ago

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Stuck in the City: Forest Witch Edition

It can be difficult to do witchcraft and connect to nature when stuck in a supremely urban area such as a downtown of a major city where even parks are hard to come by and collecting items there could be considered vandalism. This masterpost is to help all of you stuck witches who wish to be Forest Witches, connect with the forest or use forest related magic despite your urban setting.

**(If you like what I do and enjoy my posts feel free to support me or tip me at my Ko-Fi page or IM me for direct paypal information. Every dollar is helpful!~)**

Making Your Own Sanctuary

Let’s start with the simple beginnings of turning your home a bit more foresty so you can have your own sanctuary of nature in your home. Whether this be an altar, a corner of a room or even a full room is up to you and the amount of space you have to work with. In my post here I will be referring to setting up a space that would be considered big enough to sit in for meditation and spells and altar space, if you have more room than that feel free to definitely expand it!

Simply clear out some space, make some room so you can comfortably practice without risk of knocking anything over or causing safety issues for yourself (such as when candles are burning). Now in this space it’s time to decorate it and set it up to feel like a nice little cut of forest placed in the comfort of your home.

Things to consider adding to your space: branches and leaves, acorns, pinecones, walnuts (in the shell), tablecloths/altar cloths with forest, leaf or tree prints on them, photos and art of the forest, antlers, deer/elk skulls/teeth, fur (legally obtained), feathers (legally obtained), and the colors brown, green and brown. Potted plants and moss are other wonderful ideas to keep in this space especially plants native to your state, if you are unable to keep large plants try some local herbs or moss.

If plants are still not an option for you to grow due to either just not having the skill for it or the time or just not being a good location for them for lack of sunlight or tight space, crystals and stones are always options as well. Any crystals or stones associated with earth are wonderful to use as well or ones that are either green or brown or a combination of the two. Some suggestions of crystals to keep in mind would be: Moss Agate, Green Calcite, Tiger’s Eye, Citrine, Emerald, Jet, Jasper, Peridot, Quartz, Petrified Wood, Botswana Agate, Dendritic Agate and Malachite are all wonderful stones to keep on an altar dedicated to nature and the earth.

Modernize your space a bit too if you wish, get some nice sounds of birds playing over some speakers or from your phone, set up some posters and images of nature and wildlife and add anything else that makes you think of the trees you love. It doesn’t matter what it is, all that matters is that it’s something that you find connects with your craft.

Grounding and Meditation

It is difficult to ground yourself with the forest when you are miles away from one, but it can be done inside your little forest corner/space. Cleanse yourself and your space as you see fit, light any candles or incense if you desire (make sure its not close to any cloth, paper or plants) and make it comfortable for you. Sit or lay down depending on what is best for you and your health needs, in a position that you prefer, remember this is no wrong way to set up for meditation. If you have a device near you play some sounds of wind, birds and ruffling of leaves to help you feel like you are in the forest. In each hand hold either some crystals associated to the forest or earth, some wood/sticks, a wand, rocks gathered from a forest or park or anything else that will help you feel connected to nature. Close your eyes and begin focusing the energy of your chest and stomach to spread through your body and connect yourself to the ground like roots. Imagine these roots being like that of a tree connecting you to it in the heart of a vast forest. Don’t forget to take deep breaths through your nose and release them out your mouth. Meditate as long as needed until you feel a deep connection and ready to do your craft.

Portable Forest Altars

For when you are on the go or traveling but need a bit of the forest in your pocket or bag, you can make yourself a portable forest altar. Portable altars are used by many witches who are on the go or just keep their craft secret. They are very easy to make and can be very convenient for when you need to cast a spell away from home.

First you will need a small container to carry your supplies in. Some witches prefer pocket sized things like small boxes that jewelry may come in, altoid tins or other small containers, other witches prefer journal sized ones inside boxes, plastic containers or tins. It really depends on what you will need and what you will personally be carrying it in. Whatever you choose to carry it in make sure its durable enough not to be crushed inside a purse or bag so that whatever is inside of it does not get damaged or ruined. Preferably make sure there is a way to close the container or tin you are using tightly, if needed tie it shut using ribbon or yarn to help prevent it from popping open inside your bags.

Now it’s time for the fun part of making your travel altar, selecting the items to go into it! Now depending on the size of your altar it will change what can fit into it, so feel free to play tetris a bit with what you are fitting into it. You want things to be a bit snug to prevent them bumping around and breaking but you don’t want it so tight that you can’t get anything out.

Some common things and suggestions to put into your travel altar: birthday candles, tealight(s), travel matches or lighter, crystal shards or small crystals, beads, packets of salt, packets of black pepper, dried herbs in small containers/bags, dried flowers, pine cones, acorns, leaves, branches/sticks, bark chips, tea, small sachets for on the go spells, images of animals or plants, feathers, small stones/rocks, runes and sigils written onto bark or paper, seeds and small figurines of animals or creatures.

For larger travel altars also consider adding: scissors, plastic or cloth baggies, small travel books on herbs, plants and/or trees, pocket notebook/sketchbook, pencils and pens, crystals and a portable wand.

Forest Witch Crafts, Spells and More

For this section I’m going to talk about a few at home crafts and spells that you can make and cast while in an urban setting once you have set up your space and gotten down your grounding. These crafts are all beginner friendly and can be done by entry level witches once they have gotten down grounding and centering their energy.

Forest Witch’s Ladder for Protection

You will need:

Twine

Scissors

7 Oak Branches/Sticks

2 Pine Sticks

Pine Cone

White Ribbon

Something to hang it from such as a repurposed clothing hanger or hook

Cut your twine to the lengths you desire it, though making sure all three are the same lengths. At the top tight a tight knot of your choosing, I usually use a simple square knot. Leave enough extra on one side of the knot to tie it to your hanger or hook. The rest of the twine should be long enough to allow you to work. Braid it in a simple 3 way braid before tying a tight knot, placing an oak branch below the knot (the pine are for the end) and snuggly securing it with the twine wrapping it in whatever way you feel fit. Secure it again with a knot pressed tightly below the branch and continue the braid. You may space out the branches however you like, whether they are close together or far apart. While braiding and securing branches, focus on the energy that is given off by the oak branches. Once you have secured all of the oak branches you add the pine branches until all branches have been secured into the braid. Use the bottom of your twine to begin securing the pine cone in whatever process you prefer, I am simple when it comes to my witch’s ladders so I often prefer to find a good section near the top of the pine cone and wrap my twine around it and secure it with a series of simple knots. Take your white ribbon and to close and finish your spell, tie a bow around the bottom part of the braid just above your pine cone.

Find a secure place in your bedroom or in any main room you spend most of your time in and hang it either upon the wall or on a door for protection. Every full moon it is recommended to cleanse and charge your Witch’s Ladder in the full moon’s light then rehang it in its place come morning.

Forest Poppets

These little poppets are easy to make using only a few items. Using an acorn or a pinecone for the head and if desired drawing a face to it and tying it either to some cloth, paper or sticks you can create a simple little doll for magickal workings.

Use these poppets to bring positive effects into your life. Create your doll and on some part of it write your name, initials or use a taglock such as a bit of hair tied to it. Different wood types will attract different things into your life. A few examples would be:

Apple: blessing, protection, love, inspiration

Ash: creativity, inspiration, healing, moving towards a goal

Cedar: cleansing, removing negativity, emotional healing

Cherry: attraction, sexual energies, romance, daring, courage, voice

Elder: healing, protection

Oak: leadership, strength, wisdom, abundance, fertility

Walnut: expansion, travel, knowledge, wisdom

Willow: divination, psychic awareness, secrecy, concealment, glamour, fertility, healing, empathy

Cursing using these poppets can be quite easy too. Simply select a wood type with correspondences to the opposite of what you want for that person. Such as using cherry wood to remove romance from their life instead of bringing it in. To reverse after you have made the poppet and added the persons taglock, take black thread and bind them up tightly or use tape. Then seal the poppet into a jar and fill it with nasty things like muddy water, puddle water, black pepper, rotting vegetables/plants, dirt, etc and seal it tightly. Bury it in a dark place or keep it hidden away where it is is dark such as under sinks or in closets that are rarely used. To break the curse, open the jar, remove the poppet, cut the tape/thread and then dispose of the poppet properly.

Forest Witch Bath (from my bath post)

Supplies:

Pine Needles

Pinecones

Pine essential oil (2 drops)

3 bags of green or black tea

Green sachet

Mint

Cedar Chips

Green Candles (optional- tree or plant scented ones)

Steps: Light your candles and begin filling your tub. In you sachet add 1 part cedar chips and 1 part mint. Tie it shut and add to your bath as it fills. You may then add the pine needles to float freely or you may add them in a sachet as well. Add your two drops of pine oil once the tub is half filled to ensure it is well diluted in the bath. Add your tea bags into the water, line your tub with the pinecones and get in.

Note: essential oils can be harsh on certain skins, dilute the oil with a carrier oil and test on your skin to see if it affects you. If your skin is too sensitive for pine oil omit it from the spell.

Forest Witch Teas

There are several teas made from different trees that have several health benefits and magickal properties that are wonderful for spellcasting and overall forest witchery. A few helpful examples of these teas that are easy to purchase and find are listed below.

Pine Tea

Health: Health wise, properly gathered or purchased tea of this type is extremely good for you seeing as it is a ton of vitamin C. It is commonly used a vitamin C replacement for some individuals. It also has large amounts of vitamin A (though this one should be taken smaller amounts).

Correspondences: Pine corresponds mostly with endurance, strength, rebirth, celebration, and health

Willow Bark Tea

Health: Often referred to as “nature’s aspirin” or “the natural aspirin” willow bark tea is often used as a pain reliever for people and historically has been used for centuries. It is also often used for anti-inflammatory purposes. Though it can upset sensitive stomachs.

Correspondences: Willow trees often correspond with femininity, glamours, secrecy, invisibility, healing, sleep, fertility and emotional ties

Spruce Tea

Health: Spruce trees are very high in vitamin C making them great for immune systems and often used for vitamin supplements. Spruce needles are often used to soothe sore throats and coughs when made into a tea. It is also a great source of potassium.

Correspondences: astral travel, cleansing, purification, flight, creation, transformation, shapeshifting and ancient wisdom.

Deities of the Forest

This is a huge list of deities from different religions and mythology from around the world, none of which to my knowledge are closed religions. I did not list closed religion deities due to them being closed religions or religions such as Hinduism that requires someone to be initiated into it. (If I did accidentally list any closed religions please do let me know).

Baltic

Medeina: Goddess of forests, trees and animals

Celtic

Abnoba: Goddess of forests and rivers

Artio: Bear Goddess of the wilderness

Druantia: Goddess of Trees

Sucellus: God of agriculture, forests and alcohol

Vridios: God of vegetation, rebirth and agriculture

Egyptian

Ash: God of oasis and vineyards

English

Apple Tree Man: Spirit of the oldest apple trees

Chunnmilk Penny: Guardian spirit of unripe nut thickets

Finnish

Lempo: God of wilderness and archery

Tapio: God and Ruler of forests

Mielikki: Goddess of the forest and the hunt

Germanic

Ostara: Goddess of spring

Herne the Hunter: God of forests and wild animals

Greek:

Actaeon: God of wilderness, male and wild animals and the hunt

Artemis: Goddess of the hunt, wild animals, nature, wilderness, childbirth, virginity, fertility and health

Chloris: Goddess of flowers

Hegemone: Goddess of plants

Oxylus: God of forests and moutnains

Persephone: Goddess of spring and its growth

Physis: Primeval Goddess of nature

Mesopotamian

Abu: Mino plant God

Damu: God of vegetation and rebirth

Emesh: God of vegetation

Ningikugai: Goddess of reeds and marshes

Ninsar: Goddess of plants

Ua-Ildak: Goddess of pastures and poplar trees

Norse

Joro: Goddess and personification of Earth

Fjorgyn: Goddess and personification of Earth

Skadi: Goddess of mountains, skiing, winter, archery and hunting

Vidar: god of the forest, meditation, silence and wilderness

Roman

Ceres: Goddess of plant growth

Diana: Goddess of hunt, wild animals, wilderness and the moon

Faunus: Horned god of the forest, plains and fields

Feronia: Goddess of wildlife, fertility, health and abundance

Flora: Goddess of flowers and spring bloom

Fufluns: God of plant life, happiness, health and growth

Nemestrinus: God of the forests and woods

Pilumnus: God of nature and child growth

Pomona: Goddess of fruit trees, gardens and orchards

Silvanus: Spirit and Deity of woods and fields, protector of the forests

Slavic

Berstuk: Evil God of the forest

Jarilo: God of vegetation, fertility, spring, war and harvest

Porewit: God of woods, Protector of lost adventurers and voyagers, Punisher to those who mistreat the forest and nature

Porvata: God of the woods

Siliniez: God of the woods and sacred moss

Mokosh: Goddess of nature

Other

Mother Nature

The Planet Earth

Specific Tree Spirits

Nature Itself

The Seasons

Trees, Plants and Animals

Spirits and Entities Related to the Forest:

Ajatar

Bigfoot

Dryads (of all kinds)

Elves

Leshy

Green Man

Owlman

Unicorns

Satyrs

Fauns

Ahool

Curupira

Dingonek

Mapinguari

Man-eating Trees

Manticore

Saci

Mandrake

Umdhlebi

Waldgest

Goatman

Centaur

Trolls

Imps

Fae of all sorts

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drsallygrissom · 7 years ago

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Why We Love ars PARADOXICA

Back in 2016, the fandom made a list of 43 reasons why we love ars PARADOXICA in honor of the 73rd anniversary of Dr. Sally Grissom’s first audio diary on October 29, 1943. When I learned that the podcast was going to end after its third season, I decided to pull together another list that was double the length of the first.

However, the fandom was so passionate that we blew past our goal, and reached triple the length of the original list!

Without further ado, here are the 129 of the reasons why we love ars PARADOXICA:

Helen Partridge, my beautiful, beautiful wife

I just love Kristen’s laugh and it never fails to make me smile.

Mischa’s outros! “Brought to you by the internet:”

The TimeSwimmers episode. That whole thing was a masterpiece

Sally and Nikhil's friendship

Petra, my sassy troubled daughter

The effort that went into making such a truly unique and ambitious take on time travel-based fiction

Sally, my favorite disaster ace

All of the characters are just so beautifully flawed in their own ways and are so well depicted it’s hard to pick a favorite

Every episode makes me feel SO MANY EMOTIONS

The sound effects are just so well done that I feel like I’m right there with the characters

The subtle yet mind blowing foreshadowing

The way it endlessly inspires me to create fan content

The decryption team, who I don't understand yet love to watch unravel codes

The ability to make us both love and hate a character at the same time as much as we do Esther Roberts.

Jack Wyatt

The sass, and in general wonderful interactions with the fan base on social media.

The schoolyard brawl!

Very obviously not being afraid to have fun with ads/sponsored content.

Actually making me want to listen to the version with ads even though I'm a patron

Buttsticks…

Plasticity

The outro music is simple but so, so good

Lemon drops and Limestone

My curiosity about what Esther wrote in the letter

Golden boi and his devils lettuce

With three episodes left it felt like there was so much story left to be told and such little time to tell it

The generosity to keep us entertained between seasons

The subtle symbolism of Esther's mind being represented with card games

The heart-wrenching ups and downs of Esther and Bridget's relationship

Esther and Sally’s lesbian/aroace solidarity

Bridget, my mom

Sally's #relatable ace anxieties and Nikhil's comforting response

The super cool theme song by Mischa "i do not play piano" Stanton which they apparently HEARD IN A DREAM?!

The found footage pieces between scenes

The amount of detail put into it, and being able to notice new things on each relisten

Easter eggs like QDAM

Seemingly infinite pop culture references

The commitment to posting a transcript for each episode

The GOLDEN BOY smokes the devil’s lettuce?!

The Super LUminal Recursive Processor

All of the machine code names really

Mischa’s wonderful sound design that makes me feel like I’m actually in the location the episode takes place at and made me realize how wonderful podcasts could truly be.

Sally Grissom. The wonderful disaster ace and the first ace rep I ever found.

The sound design of the show, especially the tapes adding to world building, all those clunky sounds.

Sally Grissom, ‘I wonder what would happen if I...’, Mad scientist.

This show has the most complex, humanistic portrayal of aromanticism I’ve ever experienced

I appreciate the aP creators’ dedication to nuanced portrayal of and discussion about violence

All of Curses, of fucking course

Keeping the humanity of people who do bad thing while not trying to justify them

Their commitment to “all killer, no filler”

Reminding me that science is cool, dammit!

Petra is a lovely and nuanced, complex character that I adore with my whole heart and soul.

[BLUE BLUE 09 13 18 15 26 08 04 12 20 24 05 18 14 09 17 04 05 12 01 05 The weather in Tulsa today is: Drought. At the tone, the time will be: 5400 hours]

The creators are so so fantastic and fun! I love that they interact with fans.

Sally is the disaster stoner physicist we all need in our lives. also she’s relatable as hell

The show is not afraid to tackle issues like race, gender, or sexuality and it doesn’t overstep its bounds.

The codes are so fun (even if I don’t understand all of them)!

I love how excited scientists get when they’ve discovered something-it feels like real scientists I know

How Bridget criticizes Sally for making puns under pressure even though she does exactly the same thing

The way characters interact with one another, and grow, and learn, and develop is so fascinating and beautiful.

Plasticity might have been the first podcast episode to make me cry.

I love Sally “I only know anecdotal biology and chemistry” Grissom and how her science knowledge actually makes sense??

As a huge huge physics nerd and aspiring computer scientist, I love love love the way Sally talks about science! It’s like Kristen DiMercurio is narrating my inner monologue!

The thrill of trying to keep up with the diverging timelines

☭S̶͜͞ ̀͜҉̀͢Í͠ ̸̸͟҉X̵͘͢ ̢T̷̶͞ ̢̨͟Y̧̛͘ ̨͟͢ ̴̨͜҉S̷̶͢ ̴͝Í͢͟ ҉̢̛͝X̕͝͝☭

The consideration and dedication shown in not only writing an aro-spec ace character, but addressing issues and worries often faced by people in that community.

The mind-boggling task of trying to piece together everything that’s happening when for all we know every scene could be from a different, rewritten version of the timeline.

Anthony Partridge, the most melodramatic math nerd to ever play Tetris in a bubble outside of time.

The optimism of the show and ultimate faith it shows in both science and humanity, despite all the characters’ failings.

Sally giggling over meeting her future self both times that it happens

Sally’s book (and her attempts at pronouncing NaNoWriMo).

Maggie Elbourne, because as much as I love all my the more morally ambiguous scientists it’s nice to see one who actually stood up to ODAR’s shenanigans almost as soon as she figured out what was up.

Everything about the road trip.

TimeSwimmers was already mentioned but specifically TIME DOLPHIN RYAN LOCHTE

Characters that grow and change and learn

The 77s getting name dropped in Plasticity, way before we knew who they were

Sally calling out the English language for being problematic (“oh, you mean like morally upstanding?”)

“The weather in Tulsa today is: uhh I dunno”.

It has been quite possibly the most human exploration of time travel I’ve ever seen/heard.

Reaching a happy ending I couldn't even imagine

The weather in Tulsa is: sppoookyyy

The ever changing ways the codes were presented in season 3. Giving the feeling that the anchorites were both on the run and broadcasting these messages from different points in time.

Sally’s ace representation is the best I’ve ever seen and it makes me feel so #valid.

The sound design and detail in the writing make me feel like I’m truly immersed in the story, and it feels so authentic. Are you sure you don’t secretly have a timepiece?

The characters are people I CARE about and wanted to cry over during work all the time because they’re all wonderful and I love them.

The integration of the different storylines into Sally’s, especially Petra’s, is amazing.

Petra’s characterization was really well done, and it made me really care about her, even as she was trying to more or less destroy the world.

Out-of-date pop culture references that fit seamlessly into the dialogue despite being from literally a different time period and most of the characters having no idea what it meant. They just added an extra level of hilarious.

You may not actually know a single thing about tachyon fields and gluon walls (are they even real?) but you could definitely convince me that you know exactly what you’re talking about (or at least that Sally Grissom does).

The enDING WAS JUST REALLY WELL DONE AND I LOVE A GOOD CIRCULAR ENDING AND IT MADE ME GENUINELY GO TO THE BATHROOM DURING WORK TO CRY BECAUSE IT WAS JUST BEAUTIFUL.

The fact that the whole show is wrapped up by the revelation that the entire show is actually Nikhil and Mateo curling up with board games and snacks trying to form a story out of these tapes, patching together timelines to make it all cohesive, it just feels very right.

This story fits the medium so well, and so the fact that we don’t learn that Whickman has an EYEPATCH is absolutely wild but also wonderful because as soon as I heard that I knew that that was how it belonged, like of course he has an eyepatch, that’s a very Chet thing to have.

The ending was so perfectly, painfully beautiful. It was the ending we needed but never would have imagined.

Petra’s and Sally’s relationship being so complex and real.

Nikhil and Mateo using the archive to create the framing device for the whole podcast.

The sound the timepiece makes.

The final destruction of the timepiece.

Putting time travel in a Cold War setting makes perfect sense, and they go together like peanut butter and chocolate.

Did anyone mention Helen Partridge as a character? How beautifully she was set up and the fact that she pursued her own her life, and also, how BEAUTIFULLY Susanna Kavee can sing? Because damn.

I just. Really love this show. And everyone involved. So much.

The child characters were really well done-both the actors and the writing felt real.

To me, the show feels a bit like one of those camp friendship bracelets everyone used to make, with all these colors and threads--all of the timelines, woven together, messy but beautiful.

TEETRIS

Grissom’s Gizmo Gals!

Mateo’s non-stop flirting, even in the worst of situations

Sally “It’s Dr Grissom”ed HERSELF.

The way both the story and the characters reflect a complex view on the world with people making horrible decisions and horrible things happening to them, and yet always maintaining a positive outlook, offering the possibility of change and improvement.

The top-notch voice acting from everyone involved, helping to create the wonderful characters we all love.

Sally finger-gunning her way out of a conversation with a pun about a friend almost killing her.

All the minisodes!!

Any time Bridget, Nikhil or Lou acts like they want to adopt Petra

The series ending with two characters who had been at odds coming together

The characterization of the different Petras, because they all seem like different people even though in fact they are not (and Sylvia deciding she doesn't want to follow the legacy of Petras)

How Kristen can play 2 of the same character and make them sound different (how does she do that???)

Anthony’s will to save everyone, sacrificing himself, when the world didn't do anything good for him…

... and the constant struggle to save his friends (like when he was literally the only one aware of the Anchorites and the way their plan could have ended)

The way the show can go from time travel shenanigans to heartfelt character moments is a real testament to the talent of the writing team.

The Vegas episode, which I listened to after the finale and cried, because they were so happy and naive and everything wasn’t messy and bad and complicated.

The way gun violence is handled by the creators with respect and care

The way PTSD and mental health is handled (through Sally) is beautiful and respectful.

Partridge being named after a bird and living out his life in a cage. YOU GUYS ARE MEAN

Susanna Kavee’s absolutely amazing singing and Tau Zaman’s lyrics are an absolutely combination.

The ceaseless, unwavering commitment to puns

I love how important their friendships are to the characters (well, most of them anyways).

Sally’s conversation with Nikhil in season 3 reflects a lot of common anxieties of aromantic people, and his understanding responses

The entirety of the trial episode, which just really sort of showed the full extent of how terrible the Red Scare was by putting Esther, a Jewish woman, through it, and just shows you how defamed people in that time were.

In so many of the fictional and non-fictional representations of history, marginalized people have diminished, distorted, and stereotypical roles-but not in ars PARADOXICA. Thank you for making so many people feel seen.

All the amazing writers who started it all. 💜

Here are the signatures of some of the fans who contributed:

Signatures

Lindsay (ioniluna/drsallygrissom)

Khanan Abayev

SJ (your friendly neighborhood slauthor)

Dave (mondas-mania)

Noah (kindadisappointed)

Sana (i-am-delta-s)

Tina (espressonist)

Meaghan (lafgl)

Katherine (Rubywolfsbane)

Artimis (jp-blindperson/ap-blindperson)

Luke (martianboyy)

Ellie (joan-and-jane-and-esther-roberts/shewrites)

Bridge (cornerandchair)

Lem (aceparadoxica)

Esme (starsparadoxica)

Glory (mercutiglo)

Carly (guardianbob)

Emese (mse)

Ben (Q)

Special thanks to the ars PARADOXICA discord for being so helpful! From the time it was just a dozen people with a spork in a shoebox, this community was a shining star that helped me through tough times. Thank you for your silliness, cleverness, and support.

Brought to you by the internet: It’s weird! It’s fun! It loves you very, very much!

#ars paradoxica #aP creators #surprise!

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amtrax · 7 years ago

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amtrax FAQ/About Me

Hello?

-Ahoy hoy!

Who are you?

-My name is Austin Lee Matthews and I’m a voice actor based out of California!

What do I know you from?

-I am the voice of Demon King Jester in Cyberdimension Neptunia: Four Goddesses Online, Jun Kiwatari in Kakegurui, Tatsumi in Sword Gai the Animation, Kai in Atelier Firis, Kagerou and Erst in Summon Night 6: Lost Borders, Grimlock in Transformers Legends, Dave “Killer” Carlson in Wasteland 2, various minor roles in Hunter x Hunter, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders, Aldnoah.Zero, Magi; The Kingdom of Magic and more! I was also one of the finalists in 2011′s AX Idol Voice Over competition, the first callback for BangZoom’s Opening Auditions in 2014, and I’ve co-hosted a few panels at Anime Expo, Anime Los Angeles and Titan Con.

Don’t I know you from something else too?????

-I mean, probably.

How long have you been voice acting?

-I’ve been voice acting since April 14, 2009 (though I’ve found old cartoons I made before then that I voiced for, but I don’t count those. I count when I decided that I wanted to be a voice actor)

What kind of equipment do you use?

-I use an AT 2035 studio microphone with a Focusrite preamp, a microphone arm that clamps onto my desk, a Kaotica Eyeball acoustic housing, Audacity for recording and general mixing, Protools 10 for heavy duty mixing.

How did you become a voice actor?

-I grew up watching a ton of cartoons, doing silly voices, impersonating and repeating the dialogue from my favorite cartoons, watching documentaries about voice over (especially the Spongebob voice over featurette, which I watched religiously). Finally, I discovered online voice over through stuff like Legendary Frog, The Decline of Video Gaming, Perfect Kirby, DE: Dust, and stuff like that. Finally, after my friends and I fell in love with The Awesome Series, and quoted it so often, my friends encouraged me to start voice acting. I often attribute the Awesome Series as my initial impetus for acting, but so much led up to it that it’d be a disservice not to explain that it was really something I’ve loved my whole life.

How do I become a voice actor?

-Grab a microphone and start recording. Listen to yourself recorded. Get used to hearing yourself recorded. You will hate it for a while. Push through it. Audition for things CONSTANTLY. ALWAYS BE AUDITIONING. Cast a wide net for auditions, find what you are best at and what kind of roles you get cast in most, so you can start casting a line instead of a net. Keep at it. Save money. Get professional equipment. Take acting lessons. If you want to make money off of voice over, you need professional equipment and you need to take acting lessons. If you are using a guitar hero mic, Blue Snowball, or Blue Yeti, you are not ready to be charging money for your voice over. Learn how to mix. If you use Audacity, learn it up and down. If you use Adobe Audition, learn it back to front. If you use Protools, please for the love of all things bright and beautiful take a class in Pro Tools. You won’t be able to figure that program out yourself, I promise. MOST IMPORTANTLY: KEEP AT IT. IF YOU WANT TO DO IT, MAKE IT HAPPEN. DON’T WAIT FOR IT TO HAPPEN. MAKE. IT. HAPPEN

Do you have a voice demo?

-My character demo and commercial demos are available on my website here! I’ll be updating this with a visual reel at some point soon.

How do I make a voice demo?

That is a very big question. My best advice is “don’t do it yourself.” If you are making a demo to be presented to potential directors of online projects (i.e. Youtube, radio plays, etc.) get plenty of help from somebody who knows what they are doing. (I’m willing to help if I have time, but I do charge for my time and work when it comes to demo production). If you are looking to make a demo to present to studios or prospective agencies, save up some money and get a professional to help you. If you don’t have a big enough body of work to pull from, you will need to drop some pretty serious cash to record it in studio. If you do have a big body of work to pull from, you will need a professional to help you go through and pull out your very best bits that show off what you are best at. Either way, if you aren’t a professional, don’t do it yourself. And even if you are a professional, get help and maybe pay a demo director/mixer to do it for you. I put my demo together myself, but I got lots of trusted professional friends and colleagues to give me some serious feedback. I also went to college for sound design, so that helps too.

Who are YOUR favorite actors?

-Oh so many. Patrick Stewart, Betty White, Grey Griffin, Mark Hamill, Bill Farmer, Cree Summer, Maurice LaMarshe, Robert Paulsen, Wendee Lee, Steven Blum, Judi Dench, Kevin Michael Richardson, Jess Harnell, Troy Baker, Nolan North, Robert Downey Jr. James Earl Jones and basically all my voice actor friends, there are too many to list I love you guys ugh.

What are your favorite movies?

-Kung Fu Panda, Into the Spider-Verse, Summer Wars, Up, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, Tokyo Godfathers, Paprika, Zooptopia, Empire Strikes Back, Scott Pilgrim VS the World, Redline, Batman Mask of the Phantasm, The Ghost and Mrs Muir, Thor 3, Avengers, Batman, The Great Mouse Detective

What are your favorite games?

-Undertale, Katamari Forever, A Hat in Time, Mario Kart 64, Star Fox 64, Super Mario Sunshine, Ghost Trick, Mass Effect 3, Paper Mario 2, Pokemon ORAS, Borderlands 2, Burnout Revenge, Megaman Legends 2, Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island, Tetris Attack, Kingdom Hearts 2, Kingdom Hearts 3, Kingdom Hearts DDD

What are your favorite TV shows?

-Megas XLR, Cowboy Bebop, Nichijou, Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, Gurren Lagann, Teen Titans, Batman TAS, Batman Beyond, Kill La Kill, Futurama, The Simpsons, Spongebob Squarepants, Dragonball Z, One Punch Man, The Flash (Season 1), Madoka, Little Witch Academia, Gravity Falls, Ducktales

ARE YOU IN [insert show that hasn’t been released or had any casting announcements made for]?

I’m unable to comment on my involvement with projects that have not been released or that the client has not made a casting announcement for. You will find out as soon as I am at liberty to say, I promise! I wanna talk about it as much as you wannt know about it!

Anything else I should know about you??

-I’m actually pretty chill and mellow, love answering questions, and just love to help people create. Also, I’m nuts about monster people.

#amtrax faq #voice over

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blame-canada · 7 years ago

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At The Start - Creek

Craig and Tweek are young, in love, and not at all prepared for the rest of their lives. The first Walmart trip that inevitably comes on move-in day is only the start.

This was a fic that was originally (somewhat) requested by my dear friend @creekfucker, to whom I apologize for taking so long to finish this! I hope you still like it, months later. The working title for this fic was ‘hi im tweek tweak and he's craig tucker and welcome to jackass’- just a fun fact. Enjoy!

“Okay, you got the list?” Tweek bit at his thumb, pausing a moment to let the automatic doors sense his weight and part for him to enter.

Craig didn’t look away from his phone, but he tilted it up to gesture with it. “Got the list.” He clicked out of the random email he was clearing from his inbox and switched over to the note he and Tweek had carefully written out a few hours before. A rush of air conditioning assaulted his face, and when he looked up he caught an eyeful of fluorescent, painfully unnatural lights.

They’d forgotten more than a couple essentials before they moved into their new apartment.

In their defense, neither of them had done it before. The closest Craig had ever gotten was a dorm room in college, and Tweek had only ever commuted to school. ‘New’ was a very nice way to put it too- it was, in all honesty, a sad excuse for a home, but their budget was low enough that they couldn’t quite afford to be picky. At least this one didn’t have water stains all over the ceiling or a busted up window, and Tweek didn’t feel like the protagonist of a horror movie when he walked through the neighborhood to test the waters.

Who even thought of a shower curtain when they moved out? Nobody, Craig was convinced.

He scrolled through the list quickly, scanning for which sections of the store they had to visit (most of them) before he clicked his phone off and smiled, shaking his head to himself. “It’s a shame,” he said, an open invitation, and Tweek took the bait, looking over his shoulder at him while he dislodged a shopping cart from the messy chain shoved up against the wall.

“Uh, w-what is?”

Craig’s smirk grew even wider, and he said, “That you thought this was going to be a productive shopping trip.”

With that, he hip-checked Tweek away from the cart, hijacked control of the rickety contraption, and surged forward with his hands firmly planted at the ends of the handlebar. Tweek made a strangled noise of distress but Craig had already started to pick up speed, letting his strides match the growing momentum of the cart as it barreled forward into the throes of the store.

“Craig you god dam—Craig, w-what the fu—what are you doing?” Tweek asked, stumbling around swear words so clumsily he may as well have shouted them anyway. He had to hop a little faster than Craig to keep up, and his face was turning cherry red from a combination of nerves, embarrassment, and sudden physical strain.

Craig tried his hardest to keep his straightest face when he replied, “Shopping.”

“You-! You asshole,” Tweek hissed, reaching to grab him by the arm and hook himself onto it, dragging alongside him to get the cart to slow down. “Quit it!”

“Okay,” Craig said with a shrug, and he dramatically lifted both hands from the cart to let it fly forward unmanned. Tweek gasped and jumped ahead to grab it before it careened right into a kiosk full of cheap jewelry nobody ever bought.

Tweek paused, his back to Craig, and for one fleeting moment Craig felt rather certain he was going to die. Tweek looked over his shoulder, and scathed, “Behave.”

“Nah,” Craig replied, and he pointed northwest. “The shower curtains are probably down here.” Tweek grumbled irritated nonsense to himself, but Craig saw the smile he was desperately trying to hide. That meant he wasn’t completely in the dog house yet, which boded well.

Walking through the store with Tweek had a strange feeling attached to it that he couldn’t quite define. They’d gone on trips before, of course, to grab snacks or run an errand for their parents here and there, but it felt different with a brand new key resting in his right pocket. It was a key to a place where Tweek would be beside him every day, and the thought made him so anxious and so excited that the only way that made sense to release that energy at the time was to annoy the fuck out of his boyfriend at Walmart.

“Clear or white?” Tweek asked, effectively slamming the brakes on his daydreaming, and he looked over to see him holding up two nearly identical packages.

“I mean, I don’t mind a show, but if we ever have guests I dunno how they’ll feel about the clear.” Tweek turned red and Craig internally pat himself on the back while he shrugged. Nice.

“This is the liner, Craig, not the actual curtain. No one’s gonna see this part!”

“Oh,” he said. “Who cares, then..?”

Tweek rolled his eyes and tossed the clear one into their cart, replacing the other on its hook. “You’re killing me,” he moaned, stomping his feet a little in a tantrum.

“You love it,” Craig replied, and when Tweek huffed, he accepted it as a victory.

“Can we do food next?” Tweek asked, and when he shrugged in agreement, he smiled and took hold of the end of the cart, steering it toward the food aisles. Sometimes, watching Tweek do nothing at all made Craig feel a certain kind of weird. It was the kind of feeling that made him smile involuntarily, and his hand itch with the desire to take his. He guessed it was love, probably, but like, a lot more of it all at once. It was kind of great. Watching Tweek pull the cart, his back to him, his hair swirled more erratically than most days, Craig felt an awful lot of that feeling. Maybe one day, after living together for a little while, he’d feel more comfortable talking about and expressing it. For now, though, it came out in bouts of ruthless teasing.

“Hey Craig,” Tweek snorted, giggling quietly, “Craig, h-hey—”

“What?”

“Do you think I’d fit in this?” His finger trembled from contained laughter as it pointed to the bottom shelf of a display of what appeared to be dog beds.

“Hmm”—he clicked his tongue—“not without difficulty. You’ll have to take into account the height of the shelf.”

Tweek raised his fist to his mouth, rubbing his knuckles under his nose while he thought. “Yeah, but also the bed will get smaller when I lay on it, assuming it’s as fluffy as it looks. Bet you two thingies of ice cream I can make it work.”

Craig raised his brows, the wager proving steep, but he was feeling confident that it would at least be endlessly amusing to watch him try to shove himself into a shelf. “Deal.”

Tweek rubbed his hands together and paused to let out a few more cackles. Craig looked around quickly, suddenly very aware of where they were because it was different when he was misbehaving. “Come on, go,” he urged, and Tweek rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be so nervous, I’ve seen worse. Actually, remember that video where those guys made like, a-a whole apartment in the toilet paper aisle or something? Man, I’ve always wanted to do that—”

Craig raised his hand, cutting him off. “While your enthusiasm is admirable, we do still have shit to do at the apartment. We resolve the bet, and then we get groceries.”

Tweek whined at him and scowled. “You got to be a little shit earlier,” he grumbled, and he got on his knees to crawl into the shelf. He pressed down on the bed, testing its resistance, and when it gave way easily and created a lot more space between the bed and the next shelf, he looked back at Craig with his eyebrows raised and a shit-eating grin. “I’m making you buy flavors you don’t like,” he said, snickering, and Craig crossed his arms.

“Just do it, Jesus Christ,” he muttered, now nervous about his chances of winning, and Tweek shrugged his shoulders and got into a crawling position.

“Should I like, match the shape and then try to slide in? Tetris it? I think that might work.”

“We’re in a bet. I’m not helping.”

“What if I get s-stuck!”

“Then you lose the bet and I leave here with two extra thingies of ice cream.” Tweek made an ugly snarling sound of irritation, and Craig did his best to contain laughter, though his shoulders still shook a few times. Tweek aligned himself with the bed, put both his left limbs out, and started pushing himself inside.

“I’m gonna do it. Dude, this is the easiest bet I’ve ever won,” Tweek said, and he wiggled around on his stomach to get himself deeper into the shelf and onto the dog bed. His head disappeared, then his shoulder, then his arm, and it wasn’t until he was completely hidden from view that he said, “Yes!” and cheered through the muffling caused by the fluff.

Craig took a moment to stare, note how well Tweek was hiding in the fluffy dog bed abyss, and check their list before he cleared his throat and announced, just loud enough for Tweek’s compromised ears to hear, “Goodbye, Tweek.”

He heard a distorted voice shriek, “What?!” The dog beds started to move and Craig ran around the end of the cart to grab the handle and dash away, looking over his shoulder and watching Tweek’s limbs thrash out from the shelf like some sort of eldritch horror beast. Craig stopped at the end of the aisle just so he could watch him struggle, no longer attempting to hold in his laughter, and Tweek’s flailing limbs slowly eased out of the shelf. He could only guess what sort of expletives he was spewing as he fought to escape from his own prison. As soon as his head was free, he yelled, “Craig!” and Craig ducked around the corner of the aisle, a rush of silly fear striking his chest like a cheap thrill. When he straightened his cart a mom with a drooling baby in the front basket glared at him, and he gave his best mild-mannered smile. Then his boyfriend whipped around the corner.

He was breathing unusually heavily, his hair staticky and reaching impressively well for the ceiling, and his clothes wildly askew. “What the fuck, Craig,” he said, and when the mother shot him an even nastier glare, he rolled his eyes, and said, “Calm down, it’s too young to understand human speech anyway.” She let out a disturbed gasp and hurried away from the aisle, clearly angry. Craig felt very in love with him after that. As soon as she was far enough away and the aisle was empty, Tweek punched Craig’s arm. “You left me there to fend for myself. I coulda been stuck!”

“Yeah, but you weren’t.” Craig bit back the grin he was desperately trying to contain, but it wasn’t working, and he finally just let himself chuckle as he brushed Tweek’s hair down and straightened his shirt.

Tweek swatted at his invasive arms. “You don’t have to groom me, Jesus Christ,” but he smiled anyway, and he didn’t object when Craig slipped a hand down to clasp his at their sides.

“What flavors do you want? I’m a man of my word,” Craig said, and Tweek thought about it, scratching at his chin while he held some thrilling debate in his mind.

“Wanna just get the usual?” he suggested, his smile earnest.

“Didn’t you want to get flavors I don’t like?”

“You like pretty much anything,” Tweek admitted, “a-and I’m feeling particularly generous.”

“Well then.” Craig released his hold on the shopping cart and Tweek’s hand to clap his hands together, and said, “One Cherry Garcia and one Coffee Toffee Bar Crunch it is.”

With the promise of ice cream to load into their new and empty freezer, they rolled to the grocery section of the store with enthusiasm and excitement buzzing on their nerves, because they were finally moving in together, and life was good. After a few more chases down aisles and giggle fits to earn the glares of several old people, they paid an unfortunately steep price at the register, and Craig’s stomach did flips while he thought about the simple but beautiful fact that he was driving home. Their hands met above the center console of his car. Craig twisted the steering wheel left, comforted that in time such a motion would become wonderfully second-nature.

Craig took pictures of Tweek turning the apartment key, and they ate pints of ice cream on their bare kitchen floor.

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