#this is why i don't like playing just released games

[reignpage]

Hi!! If you have the time- how would the jjk guys react to the reader giving them the silent treatment?

I hope you're having a wonderful day!

Gojo:

Would try to make you laugh at first When that doesn't work and he notices you're just getting more irritated, he'd start bribing you Buys you flowers, handbags, dresses, jewellery you name it If you're still silent, then he'll go deadly serious Would confront you in the dark, sitting on the sofa like he's been waiting for hours 'Is there nothing I can do? Are we done for good? Are you leaving me too?'

Geto:

Gets snarky Two can play that game He's not the calm and patient guy everyone thinks he is He just reacts in subtle ways Makes passive-aggressive comments But eventually will get tired, sighs and just asks you straight up what he did wrong 'Alright, what happened? Let me inside that head of yours.'

Choso:

Keeps asking you what's wrong Gets really sad and depressed Very much kicked puppy vibes Just follows you around everywhere Until you crack 'I didn't know what I did but I'm sorry. Please talk to me? I'm scared'

Toji:

LOL LMFAO ROFL This man would be soooo annoying He'd be smug as hell at first Says shit like 'It's nice to have peace and quiet here' 'You should get mad at me more often ma' BUT eventually realising you're not gonna crack He'll start to get nervous Starts cleaning up after himself Double checks to make sure the trash is out, he hasn't left any dishes in the sink, didn't miss any appointments or anniversaries etc etc Would send Megumi in to get a feel for your mood 'make yourself extra cute kid' 'ask her why she isn't speaking to me. no don't tell her I told you to. whose side are you on?'

Nanami:

Would ask you immediately if there's something wrong Is so mature and healthy it's irritating 'please communicate with me, darling. I can't apologise and fix whatever I ruined if you don't talk to me.' Eventually, he'll give you space But then you'll start feeling really bad because he'll assume that you hate him or something Like, he'll start buying sandwiches to take to work cause he thinks you won't make lunch for him like normal or sleeps on the couch eats dinner and watches shows by himself so you cave first and the smile he gives you is so worth it

Sukuna:

Doesn't notice a thing at first He isn't the type to be clingy, he's not the affectionate one, he mostly returns it So there'll just be a period of silence Until he begins to feel your absence in which case he'll seek you out and then becomes the clingy one 'it is a pleasant day out, would you care to join me for a stroll? gets sooo offended if you don't say anything 'no? would you prefer to stroll with someone else? tell me who and they will be killed. in fact, continue to remain in silence and everyone will be killed.'

Yuji:

Confused :0 asks Nobara for advice 'you're a girl, she's a girl. so tell me what's going on' 'is it the time of the month?' uses loads of different tricks to make you break performs dances and skits gets Gojo involved tries to get Megumi involved (no chance) he's so stupid you just have to cave and explain he's an idiot and he'll nod happily

Megumi:

yeahhhhhh you'll be having a silent off for days and weeks you'll both continue to co-exist in silence it's just not smart

Inumaki:

annoying as hell texts you shit like: 'when she copies you' 'ho is u good?' 'can you be original at least?' when that doesn't work he'll break into your social media or gaming accounts right in front of you and threatens to release a post pretending to be you like 'you know, hitler wasn't that bad' or an ugly picture of you then you'll have to cave and he gets so caught up in the victory, he'll accidentally post it yep, he's a dead man walking

[meazalykov]

let me in

giulia gwinn x anxiety!reader

part one - part two

summary: you try to hide it, but she already knows

warnings: diagnosed anxiety, fear, zoloft mentions, angst, split into two parts because of the word count

the second half starts, and somehow, you manage to push through. you make an assist to sydney. for a fleeting moment, there’s a spark of joy. you’re happy for her, you really are. 

then you start to think that you’ve realized something. the acknowledgment you’re used to isn’t coming. no one is rushing to congratulate you for the assist, like they normally do for anyone else who makes a great play. 

you know it’s not because they don’t care, but your mind betrays you. it starts spinning with doubt, with fear. did they notice the mistake you made earlier? do they think you’re not good enough? why is no one congratulating you?

your heart beats faster now, the panic rising again. you try to push the thoughts aside, to focus on the game, but the fear is too strong. it’s all you can think about. 

then, a familiar voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. pernille is next to you, her arms around you in a tight hug. 

“you did great,” she says, her voice warm and reassuring. 

tuva follows, giving you a pat on the back, and for a brief moment, the fog lifts. you’ve made a mistake, but they don’t hate you. they don’t blame you. they still believe in you.

your heart is still racing, too fast, too loud, pounding against your chest like it's trying to break free. calm down, calm down, you tell yourself, but it doesn’t help. 

nothing helps. it’s like a constant hum of anxiety buzzing in your ears, drowning out everything else.

when the coach calls for the substitution, you barely register it at first. you’re already so deep in your head that the words don't hit until he’s looking directly at you, a hint of concern in his eyes. you blink, startled, as he gives a quick nod towards the sideline. 

linda comes on for you, and you give her a light hug before the coach reaches out to put his hand on your shoulder.

"y/n, rest. you did great. go ahead and sit the last twenty minutes out."

it feels like the earth shifts beneath your feet. the pressure mounting in your chest. as you walk toward the benches , all you can feel is this deep sense of failure. 

I didn’t do well. I wasn’t good enough. that’s why he’s subbing me off. 

your pulse doesn’t slow down as you sit on the bench, your leg bouncing uncontrollably. you try to still it, but your body doesn’t listen. it’s as if the constant movement is the only thing you can do to release the built-up energy inside of you. 

I wasn’t good enough, you repeat, the thoughts relentless, pushing through the cracks in your mind. 

sam kerr sits beside you, and without a word, she leans her head on your shoulder. it’s a small gesture, but it’s enough. the weight of her support, her presence, pulls you out of the storm in your head, if only for a moment. 

“great job love,” you hear her say silently, and you want to believe her, want to feel proud of what you’ve done, but it’s so hard to shake the feeling of not being enough. 

you glance back at the field, watching the play unfold, but your focus isn’t there. your body feels heavy, and your mind is racing. 

I don’t belong here. I can’t even finish a game. I’m not enough for this team. 

the rest of the game moves in a blur as you try to calm your breathing, to remind yourself that it’s okay, that you’re doing your best. 

the anxiety has a grip on you, pulling you deeper. your leg keeps bouncing, faster now, each movement a desperate attempt to release the tension building inside you. it’s exhausting, and the fear is suffocating. 

when the coach comes over after the game, his words are meant to comfort you. 

“y/n, you did great out there. you’re doing everything right. you just needed a break—take it easy.” but they don’t sink in, not right away. you nod and give him a quick smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. 

I didn’t do great, you think. I was subbed out. I couldn’t finish the match.

ten minutes after the ending of the game, you’re surrounded by teammates celebrating the 5-2 victory over arsenal. it should feel like a triumph, and in some ways, it does. 

when you’re talking to lea about the win, lena—still recovering from her ACL injury—suddenly picks you up from behind, lifting you off your feet in an enthusiastic embrace.

“you did so good!!!” she shouts, her voice filled with joy.

for a split second, panic courses through you. you freeze, body rigid, terrified that somehow you’re going to hurt her. you don’t want to be the reason she gets injured again. you pull away quickly, a nervous laugh escaping your lips as you explain, 

“i don’t want to be the reason you get hurt again.”

lena laughs, shaking her head. “you’re so light. you couldn’t hurt me,” she reassures you, and for the first time all day, you feel a little bit lighter. 

the fear begins to lift, and you let out a shaky breath, finally starting to believe that maybe you’re being ridiculous, you’re not as bad as your anxiety makes you think.

lea picks you up next, and for a fleeting moment, you feel the weight of your worries start to fade. the team loves you. they don’t hate you. they’re not disappointed in you. you are enough.

later that night, when you and giulia arrive home, the house feels different. quieter. more intimate. the adrenaline of the match still buzzes in your veins, but now you’re alone with giulia. 

she sits next to you on the couch, her strong arms around you as you both begin to unwind. you talk about the game. your assist, the plays you both loved from giuli, the moments that didn’t go as planned. 

then giulia’s tone shifts. she’s quieter now, her hand resting on your knee as she watches you carefully.

“how’s therapy going?” she asks, her voice gentle but probing.

the question catches you off guard, and suddenly, you’re paralyzed with fear. you’ve been hiding the truth from her for so long. the medication. the diagnosis. the fact that things haven’t gotten better, despite what you’ve been telling everyone, including her. your chest tightens as the words struggle to leave your mouth. 

(throwback) you sit in the small, sterile office at bayern’s campus, your fingers anxiously tapping against the arms of the chair. the white walls seem to close in on you as you try to focus on the woman sitting across from you. 

the psychiatrist. 

she’s kind and patient, but everything about this situation feels foreign and uncomfortable. you’re not used to talking about your feelings. you’ve spent your whole life pushing them down, burying them behind a smile, behind the constant drive to be better, to be strong. 

today, everything feels too much. too heavy.

“y/n, you’ve been dealing with a lot of pressure lately,” she says, her voice soft but steady. 

“and it’s okay to admit that you’re struggling with it. it’s more common than you might think.”

you want to argue. i’m fine, you want to say. i don’t need help. however, the words stick in your throat. you can’t lie, not anymore. not when it feels like your entire body is suffocating under the weight of everything. 

you nod, even though a part of you still wants to shut it all down. it’s too much now. the fear. the racing thoughts. the panic attacks. it’s been months, and it’s only getting worse. so you listen as the psychiatrist continues, explaining how anxiety can feel like an endless cycle that’s hard to escape, how sometimes your mind just needs help. 

medication, she suggests, can ease the constant tension, help you regain some control. 

she mentions zoloft, a small pill to take each morning. at first, the idea of it makes you cringe. medication? you’ve never been the type to rely on pills, but deep down, you know something has to change. 

you’re tired of feeling like your chest is going to explode every time you step onto the pitch. tired of the constant weight of guilt and fear that follows you everywhere.

“it might take some time to work,” she says, as if reading your mind. “it can help. we can monitor it together with the rest of the doctors here.”

you nod again, though it feels like a distant part of you is screaming to stop. you don’t want to admit that something’s wrong, that you’re not strong enough to handle it all. but here you are, agreeing to try something new, agreeing to take that pill. 

you want to believe it’ll work, but you’re also afraid it won’t. if it doesn’t, what will that say about you?

the psychiatrist hands you the prescription, and you take it, your hands shaking slightly. the weight of the small bottle feels overwhelming, like it holds all your fears inside. this is it, you think. this is the fix. this is how it’s going to get better. the thought doesn’t make you feel better. it only makes the weight heavier. what if it doesn’t work?

that night, when you get home, you find yourself standing in front of the dresser, staring at the small, nondescript bottle in your hand. 

you want to hide it. you don’t want anyone—especially giulia—to know. you can’t let her see this side of you, not when you’ve worked so hard to keep up the facade. 

without thinking, you open the drawer of your underwear dresser. it feels like the safest place, the one place where no one would look. you tuck the bottle inside, burying it underneath your things, as if hiding it will somehow make it less real. less of a reflection of what’s wrong with you.

the next morning, you take the pill as if it’s just another routine. but the guilt hangs over you, a shadow that doesn’t leave. 

you try not to think about it, but the more you take the pill each day, the worse it feels. it doesn’t help. it doesn’t change anything.you think that you’re still broken. it only makes you feel like you’re drifting farther away from yourself like you’re numbing your emotions, but not in a good way. 

it’s like you’re fading into someone else’s skin, and you don’t know how to stop it.

you feel like you’re suffocating in your own mind, and you don’t know how to explain it to giulia. 

what if she thinks I’m not good enough for her? what if she sees me as weak? she’s always been your anchor, the one person you never want to disappoint, but telling her about this... it feels like the ultimate failure.

and so, you keep it to yourself. the pill bottle stays hidden, tucked away in that drawer. the anxious thoughts continue to spiral, unchecked, but you don’t want anyone to know. not even giulia. not even her.

back to the present– giulia’s quiet, but you can feel the weight of her gaze on you. she’s waiting, and you know she’s already figured out that something’s wrong. it’s been weeks, and the cracks in your facade are starting to show.

“therapy has been fine.” you smile, pulling a loose piece of blonde hair behind giulia’s ear. her hair wasn’t in her signature ponytail braid from the game, but in loose curls over her shoulders that the braid gave her. 

you try to focus on something, anything—anything to avoid her eyes—but it’s useless. your hands are shaking, and every thought feels like it’s running away from you. the anxiety from the match still lingers in your chest, but now it’s compounded by guilt. 

guilt for not telling her sooner. guilt for hiding the truth. you feel trapped in your own head, like you’re suffocating under the weight of your own emotions.

giulia watches you carefully, her brow furrowed. she doesn’t need to ask anymore. she knows. and that’s what scares you most.

“y/n,” giulia finally says, her voice calm but firm. 

“you know we need to talk, right?”

you swallow hard. your throat feels tight, the words stuck there. you try to smile, but it feels forced, like it won’t reach your eyes. 

“about what?”

she leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, eyes never leaving yours. 

“about you. about everything you’ve been hiding.”

the words hit like a punch to the stomach, and you flinch. hiding—the word stings. because it’s true. you’ve been hiding everything. everything that’s been eating at you for months now. 

the anxiety, the fear, the constant worry that you’re not good enough—that you’ll fail again and let everyone down. especially her. the person who’s always had your back for the last five years. the person who’s seen you at your best, at your worst, and still loved you unconditionally. 

now, you’re afraid to admit that you’ve been struggling.

“giulia, I don’t—” you begin, but she interrupts, her tone sharper now, like she’s not going to let you brush it off again.

“don’t, y/n. don’t shut me out again!” giulia’s voice is soft but serious, and her eyes search yours with a piercing intensity. 

“i’ve seen the way you’ve been. I’ve seen how you’ve been withdrawing, how you’re not talking to me or anyone else about it. I know you’re not okay. I know you’re not just tired or stressed from the game. this is something else. I want to help.”

you feel your chest tighten at her words. you want to tell her everything, want to explain what’s been going on inside your head, but the fear grips you tight. 

what if she thinks you’re weak? what if she thinks she can’t handle this part of you? what if she doesn’t understand? you thought.

giulia’s expression softens, her tone gentler now, but she doesn’t back down. 

“y/n, I know you better than anyone. and I can see it. I know what’s been going on. I know you’re struggling with anxiety. and I know you’ve been taking medication for it. you don’t have to hide it from me anymore.”

the room goes quiet. your heart skips a beat, and the blood rushes to your ears. 

how does she know? you didn’t tell her. you didn’t want to burden her with it, didn’t want her to look at you differently. 

somehow, giulia knows. she’s known all along.

“giulia, I—” you start, but she cuts you off, her voice gentle but firm.

“why didn’t you tell me, y/n?” giulia asks, her voice laced with a mix of concern and hurt. 

“why didn’t you come to me? why have you been hiding this from me?”

the words hit you like a slap, and you blink back the tears that threaten to fall. 

“i didn’t want you to think I was... weak,” you admit, your voice trembling.

 i didn’t want you to think I was... broken.”

giulia leans in, her hand reaching for yours, gently taking it in hers. her grip is steady, warm, and you feel a little bit of the weight on your chest lift. 

“y/n, you’re not broken,” she says softly. 

“you’re human. and being human means you have struggles. you have fears, and you have moments where you need help. that doesn’t make you weak. it makes you real. I’m not going anywhere. I want to help you, but you have to let me in.”

you feel the tears that you’ve been holding back finally spill over, hot and unrelenting. the sobs wrack your body as giulia pulls you into her arms, holding you close. you’ve been so terrified of letting her see you like this—vulnerable, broken, messy. 

you realize that she’s not looking at you with disappointment. she’s not seeing your anxiety as a flaw or a weakness. she’s seeing you. all of you.

“i’m sorry,” you choke out, your voice muffled against her shoulder. 

“i didn’t mean to shut you out. i thought... i thought you’d think i wasn’t strong enough to be your partner anymore.”

giulia shakes her head, her fingers soothing through your hair. 

“y/n, I never thought that. I never would. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be you. and right now, that means letting me be here for you.”

“we’ll get through this together, okay?” giulia whispers into your hair, her voice filled with unwavering support. 

“you don’t have to face this alone.”

you nod against her, the sobs slowing, the tightness in your chest loosening. for the first time in months, you finally feel like you can breathe.

the morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft beams across the bedroom. the air is calm, the silence between you and giulia comfortable for once, free of the tension you’ve been carrying for weeks. luckily, you guys have the day off from anything football related so you can stay in bed for longer. 

you sit on the edge of the bed, your fingers still trembling slightly, but you’re more at ease than you’ve been in a long time. last night, you opened up to her in ways you didn’t think you could. and though your heart had pounded in your chest and the fear of being judged had nearly consumed you, giulia hadn’t wavered. 

you glance over at her, the way she’s lounging on the bed, her legs propped up under the covers, her eyes half-lidded as she smiles faintly in your direction. 

the bottle of zoloft sits on the nightstand, so small, so innocent-looking. it feels heavier than it should, but the weight is different now. 

it’s no longer just a symbol of everything that’s wrong with you. it’s a step forward. and you’re ready to take it. 

without hesitation, you pick up the bottle, twisting the cap off, feeling giulia’s gaze on you. her eyes are soft, not judgmental, just... waiting. you feel a small sense of reassurance, as if her presence alone is all you need. 

there’s no longer that nagging voice telling you to hide, to keep it to yourself. you can’t change your past, but you can change how you move forward, and you want to move forward, especially with giu. 

you take the pill, the cool surface of the tablet smooth in your fingers, and swallow it down with a sip of water. it’s such a small act, but it feels monumental.

“good morning,” giulia says, her voice light, laced with affection. her eyes soften, and she shifts slightly to make space for you on the bed. 

you settle down next to her, the pillow cool against your skin, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. giulia’s hand brushes your waist, and you lace your fingers around hers. 

“i’m proud of you, you know,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. she turns her head to look at you, her eyes warm, filled with love. there’s no judgment, just acceptance. 

you nod, trying not to let the lump in your throat get the best of you. it’s hard to believe sometimes, that she’s always going to be there, in moments like these, it feels real. it feels like you can finally breathe.

“thank you,” you reply softly, feeling a quiet sense of peace settle over you. 

“for being patient. for being so loving my love.”

giulia smiles, the softest smile you’ve ever seen. 

“you’re perfect just the way you are.” 

she brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, her touch gentle. 

life is not easy, and you’re not perfect. you don’t have to be. you have giulia, and that’s enough.

baby steps. it’s enough.

masterlist

[destiny-aesthetics]

❗Long Rambling Incoming ❗

Disclaimer: Before this expansion I was by no means a regular player. Sometime I would have burst of playtime where I would jump on every week, other I would lose track of time and wouldn't touch it for months. I have also played this game since 2016. So ain't no New Light.

Might be the minority here but ...

I Hate how Episode: Revenant's story is being delivered.

So much time passes between Acts that I forget what happen during the first one, but somehow because it dropped all in the first day it also feels like things are progressing too fast.

It feels like, when it comes to story interactions, we capture Eramis and released her all in the same week instead of her being our custody for months.

The other episodes/seasons felt like our Guardian was active in the operations that the NPCs were doing, while this one it just feels like we're, ironically, just fetching things for NPCs.

Like we're waiting on our ship twiddling our thumbs until called on.

The "Fieldwork" also does not help in filling the story or the time. They are so short and easy that they become forgettable. Also does not help the audio was missing the first couple of weeks.

Onslaught also didn't do much for the story. I don't really feel like I'm saving Eliskni and the disjointed audio didn't help.

I get some players felt like they HAD to come back every week or wasn't patient enough to wait a week but this ain't it.

Best solution maybe ...

If this was a TV series with (15) 1-hour episodes, per season, give players the first (5) 1-hour episodes INSTEAD of (1) 1-hour long episode and (4) 10-minute long minisodes.

Players still get to finish whenever they want but it also has a good play time.

I shouldn't be finish with this Act in only 2 hours THEN have to wait 76 DAYS for more story.

AND most of that 2-hour run time was not even story. It is me going into the episode activity and then getting more dialogue afterwards.

And again, I believe I touch on this in previous post.

IT WAS NOT MANDATORY TO PLAY THE WEEKLY STORY MISSIONS.

You could have just as easily played everything else in Destiny 2 then jumped on the last week of the season, and played through the season story.

You didn't even have to do the story to get the season activities unlocked. AND they stopped locking previous season things after the new one began so realistically you could have completed them all before the next expansion.

No one has explain to me a good answer on WHY weekly missions were so hard for players and "I didn't want to have to jump on every week" or "I don't want a weekly story mission" is not a good answer when the options above were available.

Destiny 2 need something because there's a triangle of players, Casuals, No Lifers and Content creators, and when it good for two points it sucks for the last one.

Casuals are going to have to learn that they are going to miss out on things just because they don't play enough.

No lifers are going to have to learn that they're going to run out things to do because they do it all in a the first week or couple weeks.

Content Creators are going to have to learn to be entertaining without the game feeding constant steam of content or something now being easy because they made a boss melting build

........................

This post is already too long, so Destiny rambling part 2?

[theweepingangelofcas]

Pip pip from your friendly neighbourhood lurker, I saw your requests are open and so I shall request my fluffy little idea to you dear writer and I hope you find just as funny and sweet as I did.

So for my request for the mtp bois basically on TikTok I saw a vid where a gf found her bf sleeping on the soft and decided to prank him by setting up a fake game of uno (but you can choose a different board game/card game if you want) once set up she starts shaking him awake and telling him its his turn obviously confused and half asleep but still takes his turn.

I don’t have any pacifically for this request so I’m leaving up to you to choose who would be best for this scenario.

From yours truly,

Your friendly neighbourhood lurker 

Hello, Friendly Neighborhood Lurker! For your ask, I decided on a few things on my own. Sadly, I don't believe uno existed during the Victorian era, so I opted for chess instead (a game I am absolute trash at, but shall write about it nonetheless). I also decided that William and Sherlock would be the most likely to fall asleep on the sofa during a busy day, so they will be our victims lol

***********************

My Turn? - Moriarty Boys x Reader

William Moriarty

Your poor William had been working himself to death lately.

Between the long days of teaching, long evenings of grading papers, and long nights of committing acts of violence, it was a miracle he ever got any sleep.

So when he finally fell into a deep slumber on the sofa one lazy morning, you knew now was the perfect time to spring your trap.

William awoke to the realization of a few things. 1. There was fresh tea brewing beside him. Earl grey, as far as he could tell. 2. You were sitting beside him. The floral notes of your favorite perfume was unmistakeable. 3. You were calling to him. Gently, lovingly. It brought him out of his slumber in the most lovely way he could imagine. His eyes opened sluggishly, turning his head to look over at you. "Yes, y/n? What is it?" He yawned, trying to focus on your words. You giggled, "It's your turn, William." He realized what you were talking about. There was a chessboard in front of you, set up next to said previously mentioned tea. The table between you two held snacks as well, set up like one of your usual game nights. He observed the board, before chuckling himself, "I can assure you, my dear, I am not the one who placed these pieces. But, to humor you..." He picked up a pawn, using it to behead one of your knights. Another laugh, "Why do you say that, Will? We were playing, and you must've been so tired you dozed off-" "This board is set up to a Stafford's gambit. Though I am no great chess player, even I know that this is a poor choice of plays." You finally released your laughter, trying to scoff it down to no avail, "And here I was, dear, hoping I had finally tricked you." Finally, he sat up. leaning across the table to give you a peck on the cheek. "Mm. Maybe one day, my sweet girl. Maybe one day."

Sherlock Holmes

This man is the most manic creature ever created by fiction, do you think he sleeps on a regular basis?

He's too smart to fall for your tricks after just one nap, which is why you waited for a much different occurance to happen...

You waited til he was coming back from a case.

"Dove?!" He was elated. His latest case had truly been genius. A devious crime scene, a truly mad perpetrator, everything he could have wanted! Even a headless nun! He simply had to tell you, his beloved partner of 2 years, all about it! "I'm over here where you left me, Lock!" He ran to you, bounding over heaps of books that he had looked through earlier, before joining you on the ragged sofa. In front of you was a chessboard, still in the early few plays. "Did John play a few games with you? Goodness knows that man is rubbish at chess. He should stick to being a doctor." You laughed, placing your hand on his knee, "No, dear, remember? We were just starting our game when Lestrade barged in and asked for your help." His face fell, trying to recall the events earlier that day. Truly, he couldn't recall too much besides following Lestrade out the door. A guilty look marred his face, "Dove, I am so sorry. I don't even remember. The case, it took up so much of my mind..." He looked over to you. Normally, he would have expected you to look sad. Disappointed, maybe. Instead, you had a smile. He took an extra second to observe the layout in front of him. Those were not any type of moves he would have played. He pinched your arm, and you squealed, "Liar. Good one, though. You almost got me." A kiss on your cheek, and he picked up one of your bishops off of the board. "Now, let me tell you about the headless nun."

[heavensbled]

I had a good streak goin' at work. Just got the beach gear, the umbrella, all the memories, the weapon specific parts- Zack was fixin' to get geared real good. And then they take it away from me. For like, three years. C'mon man, you can't get a guy addicted and then put it on the high shelf. That's just mean.

[mohntilyet]

let me be clear i like veilguard but it does suck that no one disapproves anymore outside of like. three choices. i want to be fighting for my life earning approval back again someone has GOT to hate my ass. i should be careful about party composition and companion reactions again. i miss tactically taking fenris out of the party before i'm nice to merrill like those were the days

[sapphicfandompirate]

Ok I made this theory before (link). But that flashback has been over for a while (and I was too busy sobbing my heart out over Kuma, Ginny, and Bonney) and who knows when we'll get a follow up, so I'm just going to revisit my theory in the meantime.

Brook is originally from God Valley

God Valley is an island in the West Blue that was known for its abundant resources. We don't know much beyond that, but if they have abundant natural resources, I think it's safe to say they also were a part of a trade system.

And what do you need if you have merchant ships sailing around with expensive goods? A convoy to protect them from pirates.

Convoy: The act of accompanying or escorting, especially for protective purposes. An accompanying and protecting force, as of ships or troops. A group, as of ships or motor vehicles, traveling together with a protective escort or for safety or convenience.

Which, Brook was the leader of a battle convoy for a "certain kingdom".

Furthermore, Brook not only has a devil fruit, but it appears in the Devil Fruit Encyclopedia, which he read. Where better to get a devil fruit that defies death itself than a place named God Valley? How did information about this fruit get recorded? Someone had to have had it before, which means the revived human can still die a second death.

I'm just very curious about what all he did while leading that convoy. Did he encounter the Germa? Did they deliver goods to O'Hara?

According to the Wiki, the West Blue had five prominent mafia families, could that tie into his backstory as well?

Also, what is going on in the West anyways? I know I'm getting off topic here, but we have five mafia families, and two incidents in which a country was wiped off the map. No wonder those merchant ships needed a convoy escort lmao. Maybe its supposed to be this universe version of the Wild West?

[stinkrascal]

sometimes you post about sucking at a video game on tumblr and you get the most encouraging msgs imaginable from complete strangers who are just really into whatever game u talked about and wanna see u thrive and its so wholesome. and sometimes you post about sucking at a video game on tumblr and randos who you have never talked to in your entire life will write comments on your text post from august of last year about how you're dumb as shit for struggling on this level, not realizing that i posted that text post in august of last frickin year. pardon ive actually beaten this game 3 times since then but thank you for being mean to me and calling me naive for no reason??? 😭

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

spending my whole life trying and trying and trying and trying to be good enough for people who don't give a fuck about me

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

If there is at least one thing I can credit FE for doing better than Tales in localization, it's not trying to actively go out of their way for an entire game to avoid subtext or direct text between two men that is romantic or implied romantic. Funny when it's so present that the attempt doesn't even work; infuriating that it was attempted to begin with.

So as much as I often have issues with some of FE's localizations, at least they have a leg up on loc Tales for that.

[nightskylersstuff]

question of the day , are we getting anything else besides sonic ?

Maybe

And if it's gonna be something else, most likely it's gonna be deltarune, maybe even undertale and oneshot

Maybe even something else, who knows

[discoreptile]

Beasties of Greenhollow soundtrack! Some tracks on this are from older projects like elphame but all of them have been reworked in some way. Most of them are entirely new. Enjoy!

[rawliverandgoronspice]

not me constantly putting mass effect, zelda, and pathologic examples in my classes and showing my entire ass over and over and over............

[akechi-stole-my-heart]

I just woke up from a nap and while I was in the process of waking up I did briefly wonder if Persona 5: The Phantom X had just been a fever dream (derogatory)

[sysig]

I haven't played the original Half-Life all the way through, but I played Black Mesa (the fan remake with updated graphics and whatnot) and apparently they cut the tedious parts of On A Rail down by quite a bit. It might be worth looking into if that's what made the game hard to get through! I really enjoyed it, personally ^^ I'm super excited to potentially see more Stanley Parable posts as well, since I got TSPUD recently and loved it! Congrats on the achievement!!

Oohh, sounds interesting :0 I'm a bit of a stubborn SOB when it comes to Games-I've-Already-Got haha, so I'll probably still try to see this version through, but thank you for the tip! Likely I'll need it if I ever want to subject myself to going back through to look for specific level details that YouTube videos simply will not pause long enough on lol

Congrats to you as well on getting to play Ultra! I still can't swing the price just yet, but I also refuse to engage in spoilers aside from quickly glancing away from thumbnails, darn algorithms knowing what I'm interested in, not giving a care about spoilers! Lol

But you can be sure to expect Stanley stuff, it's a game I love <3

[odoraful]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.ᐟ

what happens when you don't use their pet name to call them?

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; more dialogue heavy; silly and cute

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ZAYNE ⟡

“Can you help me put this on, Zayne?”

From the reflection in the mirror, you tried not to react at the twist in his brow and the momentary confusion in his eyes. Wordlessly, he moved behind you, fingers taking the necklace out of your hand. With his gaze focused on the task before him, you could see him open his mouth, hesitating to speak.

“Did I do something wrong?” he questioned.

Zayne’s deft hands carefully laid the chain around your neck, centering the pendent between your collarbones.

You plastered on your most innocent expression, despite the twinge of guilt you felt at his question.

“Hm? Why do you ask?”

Swiftly, he clasped the ends of the chain together. His eyes flicked towards yours in the mirror.

“You’re calling me by my first name. I thought pet names were an important step in a relationship for you.”

You nodded. “Yes, Zayne, I do think it’s an important step.”

His eyes narrowed at your continual uncharacteristic responses.

Folding his arms, he mused aloud. “It took you some time to drop the title ‘doctor’ for me and to just use my name. After we became official, you were quick to call me ‘love’.”

You fiddled with your necklace, trying to, impossibly, force away the heat from your face.

“So, either I did something to make you upset, or”—he leaned in close to you, the side of his face almost touching yours—“you’re playing a trick on me.”

You gave a mock frown. He cocked his head to the side, awaiting your response.

“Okay, okay, it was a prank.” Sighing, you surrendered to his deductions. “I wanted to see how you’d react, but you saw right through me,” you mumbled.

His lips quirked. “I’ve known you for long enough to figure these things out.”

Wanting to wipe off the amused look he had on his face, you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek. His face turned into surprise. He chuckled, shaking his head at your triumphant smile.

“Thank you for helping me, my love."

SYLUS ⟡

“Sylus, could you play that new record you bought?”

You called from the sofa. Standing by the record player, he turned to face you. The offence on his face was unmistakable as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Sylus?” he scoffed. “We both know that’s not what you call me.”

Your brows furrowed, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Isn’t that your name?”

“Sweetie,” he levelled a look of scepticism at you, “that hasn’t been my name for the past month we’ve been together.”

“I still don’t know what you mean, Sylus.”

He paused. Gears turned in his head trying to unpack what was happening, much like he would do when reading the truthfulness of a dealer during a bargain.

“Y/N.”

You’ve never heard your own name being said in such a serious manner. Perhaps you got a taste of your own medicine.

“I’m not particularly fond of lose-lose situations.” The softness in his tone made you feel weak. “You can tell me if I’ve done something to annoy you. I won’t be angry.”

“Not at all!” you quickly blurted out. Unable to hide it any longer, you confessed. “You haven’t done anything to annoy me. I was just trying to pull a small prank.”

All the tension visibly released from his body. A relieved sigh escaped him. “You really do play some dangerous games, kitten.”

Playfulness returned to his voice. “Now then, how will you correct your mistake?”

“Honey,” you drawled out each syllable, making it sound as syrupy as the nickname itself, “could you play that new record you bought now?”

Sylus couldn’t help but laugh at your exaggeration. “Why of course.”

XAVIER ⟡

“Xavier, do you want to try this?”

Subtly glancing at his reaction from the kitchen, you saw his face immediately fall into a pout. The look was fatal, and it took all the willpower you had not to drop the ruse right then and there.

“That’s not my name,” he answered.

“What do you mean?” you chuckled, continuing to put icing on the sugar cookies you baked. “Of course it is!”

“No, it’s not,” he insisted.

Placing his book down, he walked to stand at your side by the counter. You avoided his eye contact, pretending that nothing was amiss.

Resting a hand under his chin, he began to think. “You usually call me bunny, sweetheart, sunshine, or darling.”

Your jaw dropped in amused shock. “You remember all the names I’ve called you?”

His mouth twitches. “There are some more, but… they might be a bit embarrassing to say aloud right now.”

That was enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

“Xavier!” Your face turned pink as you slapped his shoulder. There was no force behind the hit, but enough to convey your embarrassment.

“You did it again. You used the wrong name.” He stuck his bottom lip out.

You gently poked at his cheek, trying to lift the corner of his lip upwards. “Come on, don’t be sad darling.”

Immediately, he brightened before you.

“It was just a joke I saw couples do online. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And was my reaction satisfactory?”

“I think it was,” you smiled at him, "but it’s a shame I didn’t film it, it would’ve made for a good Moments post.”

He shook his head. “But, the nicknames we use are only for us.”

The finished cookie in your hand had a bite suddenly taken from it as Xavier leaned down to have a taste.

“I don’t want anyone else to know.”

RAFAYEL ⟡

“Are you ready to go yet, Rafayel?”

He continued to hum to himself, completely ignoring you. You folded your arms as you watched him busy himself with something trivial. He flung open a random cupboard and inspected what appeared to be an assortment of spare art supplies.

“Rafayel,” you called again.

He then turned his attention to the fishbowl in the centre of the room, where a small orange fish darted around.

“Reddie, do you hear something?” he asked, gazing so earnestly into the bowl. This fish paused its movement and stared back at his owner.

“Rafayel~” you sang his name aloud this time, extending the last syllable.

He gasped, apparently receiving some confirmation from Reddie.

“You hear something too? Thank god. I was thinking there must be something wrong with my ears.”

Surveying the room around him, Rafayel intentionally looked past you standing barely a few metres from him, tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards of his studio.

“It sounds like”—he continued—“some kind of voice. Someone familiar to me, but I can’t make out who it is.”

“Rafayel!” you shouted his name between fits of laughter. Only he could respond to your jokes with his own dramatics.

He sucked in a breath in puzzlement. “I wonder who this person is calling out to.”

“Baby,” you finally conceded, “I’m talking to you!”

It seemed like he couldn’t keep up the act either, as he started laughing with you.

“Took you long enough,” he huffed, moving towards you and linking your arm with his. “Otherwise, Reddie and I would have been searching for this phantom voice for the rest of the day.”

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