#this looks exactly like the scene in the game

[strawberry-bubblef]

Can I humbly request poking Jade Leech and just messing with him? It feels like it’d be entertaining to just play around with him a bit.

Poking Jade Leech

Pre relationship

Jade Leech x reader

If there was one person in Night Raven College who was impossible to fluster, it was Jade Leech. No matter how much you pushed, teased, or provoked, he remained perfectly composed. Other people might roll their eyes or snap back, but Jade? He just smiled. And that was dangerous. Because every time he did, you could feel the unseen gears turning in his head, already planning how to turn the situation in his favor.

And yet, despite knowing this, you couldn’t resist messing with him.

It started small. A simple poke to the arm when he wasn’t looking, just to see if he’d react. He turned to face you, his expression as calm as ever, tilting his head slightly. "Oh?" he said, his voice as smooth as ever, "Is there something I can help you with?"

Nothing. No flinch, no change in posture, not even a slight shift in his expression.

That was when you knew,you had a challenge on your hands.

So you kept at it.

A poke while he was adjusting his gloves. A poke while he was reading. A poke when he was in the middle of a conversation with Azul, which earned you a sharp glare from the businessman but nothing more than a soft chuckle from Jade himself. No matter what, he remained perfectly unfazed.

"Ah, persistent, aren’t we?" he mused one day after you’d poked him for the third time in a row. His eyes glimmered with amusement, but his posture remained effortlessly composed. "Tell me, are you hoping to provoke some sort of reaction? Or is this simply how you choose to pass the time?"

You weren’t sure of the answer yourself anymore. At first, you’d just wanted to see if he’d ever break his calm demeanor. But now? Now it was personal. You were determined to find something,anything—that would get a real, genuine reaction out of him.

And then, one day, you made a mistake.

You poked him while he was drinking tea.

There was a pause. A fraction of a second where he froze before he calmly set his cup down, folding his hands neatly together as he regarded you with a slow, deliberate smile.

"Ah," he murmured. "I see."

You didn’t like the way he said that.

Before you could react, his hand shot out,fast, far too fast and before you knew it, he was the one poking you.

Right at your side.

You flinched. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. And Jade’s eyes gleamed.

"Oh?"

You messed up.

"How very interesting."

You took a step back, suddenly regretting every choice that had led to this moment. "Now, hold on-"

He reached out again,poke.

You flinched again.

The smile on his lips grew, and for the first time since you started this entire game, you felt true fear.

From that moment on, everything changed. The hunter had become the hunted.

Jade was patient. He was calculated. And unlike your random jabs, his pokes were precise. Targeted. He had memorized exactly where to strike for maximum effect, and he was merciless. One moment you’d be minding your own business, the next poke right at your most ticklish spot. He never overdid it, never made a scene, but every single time, you felt your soul leave your body just a little.

And the worst part? He was always one step ahead.

If you tried to retaliate, he’d dodge effortlessly, like he had anticipated your every move before you even made it. If you tried to run, he’d simply stroll after you at a leisurely pace, making it clear that there was no escape. If you dared to poke him again, he would simply smile that infuriating, polite smile and say, "Now, now. Are you certain you wish to start this again?"

You were losing. Badly.

Then, one fateful afternoon, you saw your chance. Jade was distracted, deep in conversation with Floyd, his guard seemingly lowered. You had to take this opportunity. You struck,poking his side with all the confidence of someone who thought they finally had the upper hand.

And then, before you could even blink, his hand was on your wrist.

Trapped.

You swallowed hard as he turned his full attention to you, his grip firm but gentle, his smile just a little too knowing.

"How bold," he mused. "But tell me,do you truly believe you can outmaneuver me?"

You tried to pull away. He did not let go.

"You seem to enjoy playing these little games," he continued, voice as light as ever. "I do hope you’re prepared for the consequences."

The next thing you knew,poke.

Your most ticklish spot.

You yelped.

From across the lounge, Floyd howled with laughter, nearly doubling over. "Ohoho, shrimpy just got wrecked!"

Azul sighed from his place behind the counter, rubbing his temples as if he was so very tired of this nonsense. "Could you two not terrorize the customers? Or at least take it outside?"

Jade finally released your wrist, looking down at you with a polite smile that somehow felt more victorious than anything else.

"I believe that concludes this little game, don’t you?"

You glared. This was not over.

But for now, you had no choice but to retreat, plotting your next move.

One day. One day, you’d win this.

…Maybe.

English is not my first language

[fixated-cookies]

Smc x reader where he got out from the game as a human and have his way with reader?

Self aware cookie run kingdom incoming?!?!?! reminds me of the self aware genshin au, especially the cult au (yes I was heavily into genshin, its apart of me) hmm...this may be short

Yandere content, smut incoming

When Shadow Milk Cookie first becomes aware that he’s trapped in a game, he likely sees it as just another form of control. But his obsession with you would magnify that need to escape. At first, he might not even understand the full extent of his obsession; it’s just a nagging thought, a feeling of attachment whenever he feels you, whether it’s in passing or in a brief encounter. Over time, however, the pull grows stronger, his mind unable to get you out of his thoughts. He doesn't know what exactly what you look like per se, but in his rare dream that he has, he sees a being. The one that puppeteers everything behind the scenes You, in his eyes, are the ultimate prize—someone that can break through his walls, someone who doesn’t see the deceptive nature of his world, or at least doesn’t care. And that’s exactly what makes you so enthralling to him. To him, you’re a symbol of both freedom and control—freedom from the confines of his trickster world, but also control because, in his mind, you could bend him to your will. He can't have that can he?

Realizing he’s in a game would frustrate him deeply, especially since he’s a character who’s always been in control. Shadow Milk Cookie would find this self-awareness unbearable—how could he have been the one pulling the strings all this time, only to discover he’s nothing but a piece on someone else’s chessboard? But he wants to be free, not just for himself, but to have you by his side, to make you his forever.

Shadow Milk Cookie would be desperate to escape, plotting at all hours of the day, trying to manipulate his world, the rules, even the player. He would attempt anything, from subtle tweaks to outright attempting to break the game. If he’s clever enough, he might even find a way to bend the game’s rules, creating cracks where he could potentially slip through—just to get to you. His speech bubbles change, becoming more personal as time goes on. Even his voice, the one that was 'supplied' by a voice actor, starts to take on tones that weren't there before. The idea of showing you his love in the real world would fuel his every move. He wants to break free so that he can give you the love he’s been hiding, show you the full extent of his obsession. He’s convinced that if you’re alone with him, without the constraints of the game, you’ll see how deep his feelings run, how much he needs you. Finally, after countless attempts, he succeeds. The world of the game begins to distort, cracks appear in the very fabric of his reality, and with a final burst of effort, Shadow Milk Cookie breaks free. Now, he’s standing in the real world, the one that he’s been dreaming of, the one where you’re no longer just a character in the game but a real person he can touch, hold, and claim.

After he crawls through that awfully small screen, he ignores your cries of shock and fear. Imagine him standing before you, towering and commanding, yet there’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a brief moment where his internal conflict plays out. The tension builds, the silence thick with unspoken words. He steps closer, his breath warm against your skin, and when his hand gently grabs your face—holding it with a possessive yet tender touch—it’s as though he’s trying to memorize every detail of you. His gaze locks with yours, studying you as if seeing you for the first time, now that he’s free to act on his own desires. That flicker of vulnerability fades, replaced with an almost satisfied hum, as if he’s finally found what he’s been searching for. "Good..." he whispers then In one swift motion, his lips crash into yours, a feverish kiss filled with long-awaited passion, his hands tightening their grip. The kiss isn’t just an expression of affection—it’s his way of making sure you’re truly there, with him, and not some fleeting moment in the game. Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes, once a playful spark of mischief in the game, are now dark and intense. His hands, trembling slightly but controlled with purpose, begin to tear at the fabric of your clothing. Each rip feels like an echo of his desire for control, for possession, for a world where he is no longer confined to the screen but can act on the darkness within him. As he presses you down into the bed, your eyes meet. His are cold, unyielding—an abyss of obsession and twisted affection. Your heart races, the fear coursing through your veins, but you cannot look away. His gaze holds you captive, and in that brief, agonizing silence, the only sound is the frantic beat of your own pulse. Hes oddly silent, oddly focused. His fingers trail over your skin, the coolness of his touch contrasting sharply with the warmth of your body. When he presses his lips to the inside of your neck, the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. The coolness of his kiss feels almost like ice, but the fire of his desire burns in each gentle, lingering touch. His cock presses against his pants in the excitement of finally having you under him. His eyes, those sharp, calculating eyes, have lost their usual glint of mischief. They’re unfocused, almost tired, as if he's struggling to keep himself grounded in this reality, like he's still trying to figure out what it means to be here with you, in person. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for something, perhaps some sign that this is real and not just another one of his elaborate illusions. Pressing one last cool kiss to your lips before adjusting his pants, and pressing his forehead against yours. “You feel it too, don’t you?” His voice is low, heavy with something you can't quite place. “You can't deny it…” His words trail off, and you can feel the weight of them. His hands come to rest on your waist, his grip firm, leaving an impression on your soft skin as if trying to pull you closer. He mumbles as he presses his cock against your entrance, slowly pushing in until he feels his tip push against your cervix. His lips brush against your temple, a barely-there touch, but you can feel the way his chest rises and falls erratically. Each breath, each thrust seems like a struggle, but he’s trying so hard to keep his composure. His body is rigid, as if holding back something primal, and yet the more he fights it, the more it spills over in small, erratic rolls of hips. The heat between you both intensifies, and he shifts, his face inches from yours, but he doesn’t kiss you again—not yet.

Instead, he lets his forehead rest against yours, his breath shaky and uneven, and you can feel the tremor in his hands as he holds you, like he’s trying to keep from losing control. The silence between you is thick, the kind of silence that says more than words ever could. It’s almost suffocating, but you can’t look away, can’t move—frozen by the intensity of the moment, by the force of his presence.

--

I dont know where i was going with this to be honest, I had options of writing like some rabid dog over reader or him feeling conflicted about his findings. So I chose the latter, I think all of us would go a little crazy after finding out your just code, then somehow manifesting a physical form and obsessing over your 'true' creator... also I may be taking a break for a day or two just to get my creativity flowing again, I think I'm burning out slightly (DONT WORRY) I just notice a pattern of me putting all my energy into the beginning of works only to burn out halfway throughout the end which lowers the quality sorry ya'll lol

[studioeisa]

the quiet world 🍜 minghao x reader.

minghao saves his words for you.

★ word count: 1.6k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: non-idol, romance/fluff, dystopia -ish. mentions of food. established/long-distance relationship, minghao-centric. based off of jeffrey mcdaniel's the quiet world, with some reference to phil kaye's repetition. ★ footnotes: this is my entry for keopihaus' spring event 2025, specifically for the moretta/servetta muta mask :'-) it's been a while since i've written for svt (sorry!), but this idea grabbed hold of me and i couldn't shake it. my favorite poems for my favorite boy. this one has a lot of my heart in it, so... 🫴

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ quiet by jason mraz. bawat daan by ebe dancel. streetcar by daniel caesar. the days ahead by the scene aesthetic. whoever she is by the maine. hold onto me by mayday parade. if i'm lucky by state champs. start a riot by banners.

In an effort to get people to look into each other’s eyes more, and also to appease the mutes, the government has decided to allot each person exactly 167 words per day.

This is why Minghao no longer wants to dream. 

Dreams are a trap, a reason to talk in his sleep. Dreams take his words, unbidden and unwarranted, and he’ll wake up with four or seven less than he might have wanted. It annoys him to no end. 

And so a good sleep is when he doesn’t dream. When he’s just taken from one day to the other in the blink of an eye. A good day is when he wakes up with 167 allowables on the tip of his tongue. 

Minghao’s morning routine is clinical. There is no room for mistakes here. Once or twice, he had accidentally mumbled an ow or an aw, come on, and it had ruined his entire day. 

Not today. Today, he does everything right.

Brushes his teeth, showers, puts on clothes without so much of a whisper. 

He runs into Mingyu in the apartment elevator. The two exchange nods. 

Mingyu tilts his phone screen towards Minghao. The Notes app has been pulled up. Have a good day!, Mingyu had typed out. It’s the same note every morning, the same platitude delivered in this roundabout manner.  

Minghao offers him a smile and another nod. One he hopes will communicate you, too.

The streets aren’t devoid of sound. Dogs still bark; cars still beep in traffic. The world’s natural order of things doesn’t care for the state of affairs. It is a rebellion in its own right, led by the rustle of the leaves and the chirping of the birds. 

As usual, Minghao seeks out the auntie often stationed outside his office building. He finds her resting underneath the shade of a tree, her visor drawn over her eyes. He doesn’t greet her. He doesn’t have to.

She’s used to these transactions. People standing idly by until she notices them. People pointing out their order instead of saying it out loud.

Minghao points at the photo of the chicken noodle soup. She nods and goes through the motions— thermos, styrofoam bowl, plastic bag. He presses his payment into her withered, wrinkled hand, and gives out the first two words he speaks on a good day like this. 

“Thank¹ you²,” Minghao says, because the government can take his voice, but it will not take his manners. 

The auntie smiles up at him, her grin all gums and decaying teeth. She reaches out to gently pat Minghao on the elbow, and he accepts it like the blessing of goodwill that it’s supposed to be.

There’s no way of predicting what kind of day it will be in the office.

Sometimes, Minghao uses up more than half of his words arguing with stubborn clients— often ones who have the status to buy more words, to twist the government’s arm into bending the system a bit. Then there are days where Minghao doesn’t have to speak at all, and he clocks out with 165 still on his plate. 

No one at work particularly misses Minghao’s voice.

Not the same way some of them lament the loss of Seokmin’s singing or Junhui’s stand-up comedy. No, Minghao fell in with the likes of Jihoon and Wonwoo, who all knew how to play this game rather well. 

It’s no surprise that by the time lunch is rolling around, Minghao is still going strong while others are already down for the count. 

“You¹⁵³ know¹⁵⁴ what¹⁵⁵ I¹⁵⁶ miss¹⁵⁷?” Soonyoung announces. 

Half the break room looks up at him, their expressions caught between amusement and exasperation. It was just like Soonyoung to squander his words like this, to command everyone’s attention so he can proclaim, “Karaoke¹⁵⁸! I¹⁵⁹ miss¹⁶⁰ karaoke¹⁶¹, man¹⁶²!”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. Hansol pulls a face. 

“What¹⁶³?!” Soonyoung demands. “I¹⁶⁴ used¹⁶⁵ to¹⁶⁶ slay¹⁶⁷—” 

His tongue clicks. 

The words are stolen right from him; the song Soonyoung once supposedly ‘slayed,’ now a mystery. 

Minghao shakes his head. Soonyoung is red-faced but undeterred, already reaching for his phone so he can pull up Spotify and subject everybody to what was once his go-to karaoke track.

Music nowadays is mostly instrumental. Maybe there’s a phrase or two in the chorus, but artists bear the brunt of this new world’s order. 

Lunch ends. Minghao is still comfortably in the 160’s range. A feat in itself. 

But then the telephone at his desk rings. It’s a sharp, shrill sound. One he’s come to hate. His lips tug into a frown and— for a moment— he considers not answering. 

It rings a second time, and Minghao concedes he would rather not get fired for being stingy. 

He picks up the phone.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t greet the other person with hello or how are you or what do you need. 

The person on the other end pauses for a beat. Then, as if realizing this is Xu Minghao they’re phoning, they break the silence. 

“Update¹⁰³ on¹⁰⁴ the¹⁰⁵ Kim¹⁰⁶ account¹⁰⁷?” Chan asks, his voice crackling over the line. 

One thing Minghao has started to do is to compare and critique. 

To compare— the Chan of a couple of years ago would have definitely not gone straight to the point. Pre-decree, Chan had been the type of person to offer an entire backstory before finally getting at what he needed or wanted from you.

To critique— the question is two words too many. Minghao would have simply said the Kim account, or even just update? if he was feeling particularly spiteful. It’s a twisted, holier-than-thou mindset that has no place in this world that’s already taken so much, but he can’t help it. 

Minghao is not wasteful with his words anymore. Repetition is a felony; all unnecessary conversation, a transgression. 

He grits out the updates, each phrase carefully chosen and weighed as if there’s an invisible scale in his mind. The entire time, he thinks to himself: This could have been an email.

Once again, he ends the conversation with a murmured “thank⁵⁸ you⁵⁹” and that cruel, smug impression he’s somewhat better than his coworkers. 

Work crawls to its eventual conclusion. Minghao practically flies out of the office, communicating with his coworkers through glances and gestures. A wave of his hand. Goodbye. A tilt of his head. Have a good weekend. A hint of a smirk. Thank fucking God it’s Friday.

He gets home and kills time.

A silent film on the television. Microwave pizza and a can of cola. Afterwards, he puts on a playlist of old songs, the ones made when words were still a luxury that could be taken for granted. 

There was a time where Minghao might’ve belted along. Nowadays, he just dances. 

He weaves through the furniture. He taps his foot along to the beat. He is sand in an hourglass, an ellipsis at the end of a sentence…

His phone rings.

This time, it’s a sound he loves. 

He practically stumbles over his couch in his excitement. His screen has lit up with your name, with a photo of you from your first date. You had talked his ear off, then, and he had hung on every word. You’re smiling sweetly up at the camera. It’s a reminder of the things that have changed, and what hasn’t. 

The moment he answers the call, he’s already giggling.

“Hello⁶⁰,” Minghao breathes. “I⁶¹ only⁶² used⁶³ fifty-nine⁶⁴ today⁶⁵; I⁶⁶ saved⁶⁷ the⁶⁸ rest⁶⁹ for⁷⁰ you.⁷¹” 

You don’t respond.

He hears the huff of your laugh.

The click of your tongue. 

Ah.

It can’t be helped. As much as he wants to be selfish, to demand that you save at least three words for him, he knows these things are inevitable. It doesn’t happen often, anyway. You’re usually just as careful and cautious.

He’s sure he’ll get the full story over text. Some complaint about how work had demanded a little too much of you, how you had no choice but to give. 

So, now, it’s Minghao’s turn to give; yours, to take. 

“I⁷² love⁷³ you⁷⁴,” he says. 

Depending on what kind of night it is, he might say the words differently. I love you with an over-the-top British accent that has you chuckling below your breath. I love you in sing-song, reminiscent of the days he could once still afford to hold a tune. I love you sleepily, while lying in bed, like it’s the last words he wants on his lips. 

Tonight, he says it in a slow, reverent whisper. “I⁷⁵ love⁷⁶ you.⁷⁷” 

He enunciates every word, letting them mean something new each time. 

“I⁷⁸ love⁷⁹ you⁸⁰,” he says, because he means to say, It’s me, Minghao, Myungho, whatever you want to call me, and I love you. It’s me. I’m yours. All of it, all of me. 

“I⁸¹ love⁸² you⁸³,” he says, in a way he hopes you understand that the verb is interchangeable. He loves you, yes, but he also adores you. He reveres you. He worships you, and misses you, and wants you. He packs all of it in that single four-lettered word and prays it is enough. 

“I⁸⁴ love⁸⁵ you⁸⁶,” he says. 

You, long-distance lover. You, the only one he would waste his words on. You, you, you.

He says I love you thirty-two and a third times. 

He’s cut off with an unceremonious “I¹⁶⁷—,” his tongue clicking to signal his quota. The day ends, quietly as it began,—

Minghao lies on his couch and stares at the ceiling, his phone pressed in between his cheek and his shoulder.

You stay on the other end of the line. 

The two of you listen to each other breathe. 

[theeeveetamer]

My favorite thing about Dante and Vergil is just how they constantly match each other's energy. Like I know DMC5 is a lot more explicit about how Vergil is a silly lil guy underneath the veneer of seriousness, but I wanted to highlight a few of the Vergil lines/exchanges/moments from DMC3 that demonstrate... yeah he was kinda always like this

From right before the first Vergil fight in DMC3:

Dante: You sure know how to throw a party. No food, no drinks, and the only babe just left. Vergil: My sincerest apologies, brother. I was so eager to see you I couldn't concentrate on the preparations for the bash.

I find this one especially fun because pretty much every other boss you fight in DMC (like the entire series) just gets huffy and angry and yells about annihilating Sparda or something. Vergil is probably one of the few major bosses that snarks back

2. After Vergil gets Beowulf he does the Dante thing of playing around with his new weapon

3. From right before the second Vergil fight:

Dante: It doesn't matter to me one way or the other. More importantly, I've come all this way. I'm sure you have time for one more game… right Vergil: Why not? After all we share the same blood… I'll just use more of yours to undo daddy's little spell.

Something about "daddy's little spell" is just so irreverent and funny

4. From right after the second Vergil fight:

Vergil: It is time for the clown to bow out, Arkham. Dante: Dude, the show's over!

To me it comes off like Dante's spring-boarding off of Vergil's theater metaphor that with the "show's over!" line. Vergil set him up for that one

5. This bit at the start of the Arkham fight which Vergil was NOT present for:

Dante: Dude, my father wasn't so hideous. Can't you tell by looking at me? Anyway that shape suits you better. Let's begin the main event!

Followed by this exchange midway through the fight:

Dante: Look at you, making a big dramatic entrance and stealing my spotlight. Vergil: Well... You don't possibly believe that he deserves to be our main event now do you?

Vergil wasn't exactly present for Dante's "let's begin the main event!" line, which means he just came up with the same thing completely independently? That, or he was watching and just decided to wait for the most dramatic possible moment to jump in. Either way, it adds silly lil guy points (either for being just like his brother or for timing a dramatic entrance)

6. Same fight scene, the finger waggle Vergil does as he says "You should come to realize you cannot control the power of Sparda."

7. The classic:

But also the way Vergil immediately knows exactly what Dante is talking about when he says "Remember what we used to say?" and he smiles about it

[bellfilmz]

Party Monster

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rapper!Rafe x Stripper!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A chance encounter with a cocky rapper, Rafe Cameron, leads to an unforgettable night, only for the aftermath to be complicated by a surprise song that seems to capture everything unsaid.

Masterlist

⸻

Part one

⸻

The bass booms through Eclipse, rattling the walls of the club, thumping through the floor beneath your feet. The air is thick with sweat, cologne, and the unmistakable scent of expensive whiskey. The lights—flashing reds, greens, and purples—make everything feel hazy, as if the entire world is slipping in and out of focus.

This is Eclipse, the most notorious strip club in New York, and you’re no stranger to its chaos. You’ve worked here for months, watching the same scene unfold every night—men in expensive suits throwing money like it’s nothing, women twisting and contorting on stage, their bodies swaying to the beat of the music. It’s a game, and you’re damn good at it.

But tonight feels different.

You’ve been going through the motions, the usual rotations and dances, when a murmur sweeps through the room. It starts with a few whispers, passed quickly between dancers and staff alike, before it spreads like wildfire.

“Rafe Cameron is here.”

Your heart skips a beat at the name. You’ve heard it before, of course. Who hasn’t? Rafe Cameron isn’t just a rapper—he’s a damn phenomenon. His cocky, unfiltered personality makes headlines just as much as his music. The industry has tried to mold him into something more digestible, but he refuses, instead becoming a symbol of everything that’s raw, reckless, and unrestrained.

You’re not exactly a fan, but you can’t deny that the guy is everywhere. And now, he’s in your club.

You lean against the bar, casually glancing toward the VIP section, where a group of men—no doubt Rafe’s entourage—have gathered. They’re loud, throwing cash into the air, the whole scene a blur of booze and overpriced laughter. But it’s Rafe who catches your eye.

He sits at the center of it all, sprawled on a leather couch, his back slightly arched as if the whole world should revolve around him. He’s dressed in a black silk shirt with the top few buttons undone, showing off the tattoos on his chest. His dirty blonde hair is messy, but in that effortlessly cool way, like he hasn’t even tried to style it, but it looks perfect anyway.

The moment your eyes meet, your breath catches in your throat.

There’s something about the way he looks at you—intense, almost predatory, like he’s already decided exactly how the night’s going to play out. You can almost feel the heat from across the room, the pull of it drawing you closer despite every instinct telling you to stay away.

What the hell are you doing?

It’s just another celebrity, right? Another rich asshole looking for a good time. But there’s something different about him. He’s so… confident. And not in the cocky, insufferable way that most rich men are, but in a way that’s almost magnetic. He has that aura, that energy that commands attention without trying.

You’re tempted to roll your eyes at how predictable it all seems, but for some reason, you can’t pull your gaze away.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, pushing yourself off the bar and heading toward the stage. But your eyes keep drifting back to him.

His gaze never wavers.

—

After your set, you find yourself walking back toward the bar, your body buzzing from the performance. You weren’t expecting him to be standing right there, leaning against the edge of the counter, a glass of whiskey in hand.

“So, you’re the one everyone’s talking about,” Rafe says, his voice smooth but laced with that same arrogance that seems to follow him wherever he goes. He’s not even looking at you directly—his attention is half on the glass in his hand, half on the way you walk toward him.

You can’t help the small smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips. “Am I now?”

“Yeah. A lot of guys around here are paying attention,” he says, his eyes flicking to the men sitting at the nearby table who are too busy with their own conversation to notice the two of you. He turns his gaze back to you. “But none of them really matter, do they?”

You raise an eyebrow, your arms crossing over your chest. “And why’s that?”

Rafe’s lips curl into a playful smirk, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Because I’m the one standing here, aren’t I?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You really think you can just walk up to a woman and expect her to drop everything for you?”

He tilts his head, the smirk never faltering. “I don’t need to expect anything. I’m just saying, it’s rare to find someone who doesn’t care about my name.”

You’re tempted to roll your eyes, but something about his bluntness makes you stay. “Well, congratulations, you’ve found one.”

His grin widens, like he’s not the least bit fazed by your resistance. “You’re different, I can tell. And that’s exactly why I’m interested.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you, heavy and thick with unspoken tension. Rafe takes a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving yours. “What’s your name?”

“Reader,” you reply, your voice calm but your heart pounding in your chest.

“Reader,” he repeats, as if tasting the word. “I like it. You’re not like the others.”

“I’d say that’s obvious.”

He leans in closer, the scent of whiskey and something spicy mingling with the air between the two of you. “I think we should get out of here,” he says quietly, his voice dropping an octave.

“Temping, but I’m still working sweetheart”

He smiled, “well I did book a private room with you for the rest of the night so…”

You swallow, a rush of excitement and hesitation flooding your veins. You’ve never been one to fall for the smooth-talking charm of a guy like Rafe Cameron. But in this moment, you can’t help but wonder if this could be different.

—

It isn’t long before the two of you find yourselves in a hotel suite, the city’s skyline spread out in front of you like an endless sea of lights. Rafe had led you here with little more than a few hushed words and a dangerous glint in his eyes. The night stretches on with heated glances, flirtatious teasing, and touches that leave you both breathless.

You’ve always prided yourself on keeping control. You’re the one who calls the shots in this world. But with Rafe, everything is different.

His hands on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck, his words whispered in your ear—all of it is too much, too fast. And yet, it feels right.

The night is a blur of passion and recklessness, your bodies tangled together, moving in a rhythm that feels like it’s always existed. It’s a night you’ll never forget.

But when morning comes, you wake up to an empty bed.

You blink, disoriented, before reaching across the sheets and finding nothing but cold space where Rafe had been just hours ago. The sheets smell faintly of him, but the room is otherwise silent.

A quick glance around the suite confirms what you fear: he’s gone.

No note. No trace. Just silence.

Your heart sinks as you pull yourself out of bed, the weight of the night pressing heavily on your chest. You dress quickly, slipping out of the hotel room with as much dignity as you can muster. You aren’t going to beg for an explanation. You aren’t going to chase after someone who made it clear he wasn’t interested in anything beyond a one-night affair.

But deep down, you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed inside you. Something has shifted when Rafe Cameron touched you, and it’s a feeling you can’t quite erase.

—

Weeks pass, and life goes on. You bury yourself in your routine, pretending the memory of that night doesn’t haunt you.

Until one evening, as you work the floor at Eclipse, the club’s speakers blare a song you’ve never heard before.

It’s dark, haunting. The beat crawls under your skin like a secret, and then comes the voice—the unmistakable rasp of Rafe Cameron.

“You love it when I play with the knife

You hate it when I leave in the night

You tell me that you’re bad for my life

I’m part of the monster inside.”

You freeze.

It’s not just the lyrics that hit you hard; it’s the sound of his voice, the familiar rasp that had whispered against your ear the night the two of you spent together.

Your heart races, your mind struggling to comprehend what you’re hearing. Is this… a song about you?

“Who sings this?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady as you turn to your friend, who’s leaning against the bar.

“Rafe Cameron,” your friend replies without hesitation, barely looking up from her phone. “He dropped this track last night. No promo, no announcements. Just a surprise release, and the internet’s losing its mind.”

Your throat goes dry.

It’s him. It’s Rafe.

Reader’s breath caught.

Rafe had left that morning like she meant nothing.

But this song?

It told a different story.

⸻

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐?

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Ok, finally have some time carved out to sit and luxuriate in my FaifaWine story! Bring on the sweetness.

Honestly, I feel like their relationship is such a good representation of what a healthy dynamic can look like. Not just for romantic but platonic as well. Mutual support and encouragement is a beautiful thing.

We love a smitten man.

Ha, Wine doing the little neck turn for Fai was so cute. They're already so physically comfortable.

God these two are so damn photogenic.

So these pictures are just straight up engagement photos, yes? Everyone worrying about Faifa's game, when that man is 100% the first who's going to be married.

I don't know if "this will hurt me but it's too delicious not to drink" is the product placement they think it is.

Uggh, lady. There are family relationships where you can tease and joke about each other being a pain, but the fact that she is completely oblivious to the fact that she does not have that relationship with Fai is so aggravating. And once again, his face was so clear!

But Wine won't let it stand, and we love him for it.

Junior's acting here... he's so not used to anyone speaking up for how amazing he is. My poor baby.

So she apologizes, then immediately blames the dad. Shitty apology 101.

It is so infuriating, because he is literally telling her exactly what's wrong, and she's not paying any attention.

I love their hugs so much!

You can see how much Wine is Fai's safe space now. How he hugged his mom, vs how he hugs Wine.

And Wine with the healthy question, of thinking about how to move past it! He's so good for Fai.

Wa and Klao doing some growing up! I do wish we had seen a bit more of their journey, but that's just my general constant need for more AouBoom.

Uh, Toey can mind her own damn business. First outing Wine to his friend without permission, then trying to set him up with her brother without even asking first? Boooooo.

Ok, the "make it loud" is where Wine and my introvertedness severely differentiates, lol. That is my idea of torture.

Not "big boy" lolol.

Arm breaking out the sex kitten call sign for his pouty baby is rather perfect.

Yotha! Seriously. I know this is your version of supportive, but your brother is so, so much stronger than you give him credit for.

And of course Wine can immediately pick up on the different vibes Faifa has today.

Perfect descriptor for our boys.

Ugh, who invited Toey?

But also, props to them casting Ohm as Tor, which is 100 times better when you remember he's going to be with Junior and Wine in My Romance Scammer.

Oh Fai, baby, don't let your anxiety get to you. You are what he wants!

On one hand, I like that the friends want to be supportive, on the other, Wine is literally just walking with a dude. Although I guess Fai's phone being off is a rarity. Ok, I'll give them a pass.

Damn, he really is a big boy, isn't he.

Um, where was I?

Oh god, the way Faifa is so sure he's not going to come first.

Tor seems like a genuinely nice dude, he should get a meet cute with someone played by Fluke on campus. (The Fluke who's going to be his partner, not the Fluke who was his partner. Good lord, these names).

I rave about Junior a lot, but I should also mention Mark has been doing such a good job. He is someone who you can see grow in each performance, and I love that for him.

This scene, this scene, y'all.

Faifa being open and honest about his fears. Wine being honest about how Faifa has always been first for him, and his only goal. Faifa's calmness when he realizes that he wasn't chasing a love that he would inevitably lose, but that he's always had it from the beginning. The mutual love and reassurance and comfort and complete and utter safety in one another's arms. I'M NOT CRYING YOU'RE CRYING.

Omg, do not tell me those idiots literally chased Wine all over campus without him noticing. I am dying.

Ok, not to be a downer, but Yotha, this would have been a perfect supportive moment for you to bring the flowers. Just sayin'.

Yeah, these two are definitely gonna be the first married.

[taldigi]

YEAH EXACTLY the whole scene is begging for that exact kinda branching path that takes advantage of stuff like game mechanics, broken and reversed links, and branching SL paths (look sooo hard at ai ebihara's branching SL path).

love this,

on Perfidy

Reader, do you know what "perfidy" means? I have a feeling you do, based on the little scene that has just unfolded here. But you should look up the word in your dictionary, just to be sure.

for as fucked as the whole adachi social link should/could have been... well, as far as the narrative is concerned, the only "bad" thing related to it is is the accomplice ending. hunger route is considered the canon one and the "good one" and the narrative around it enforces that idea.

It's a symptom of golden's kinda.. scuffed writing. it's out of character in the same way the scooter scene is out of character and lopsided- and in the same way Marie's link is forced into the cracks of the narrative and how needs to spend her whole SL revolving around spending time with the IT (in order to justify her dungeon and her place in the final photo) and so the characters morals are tilted in the same way to make the jester link work as well.

Hell, Rise baits Yu into approaching Adachi. weather or not she meant to do it or not. Rise only does so because the narrative needs her to. Yosuke forgives Yu 'cause the narrative needs him to- because him not knowing makes it worse.

in a world where Yosuke gets (justifiably IMO) angry about it and the route has severe consequences, is also a world where an alternative event is an option. The true failing of rank 8 is that it doesn't meet it's full potential as the hard-hitting moment that it could be.

In the end, I ultimately think (and choose to read it in a way) that... well, that Yu is allowed to be wrong. Yu is allowed to make grave errors and falter, even misguided ones like trusting Adachi. Yu's character is allowed to be human and suffer the consequences of being abused and manipulated and stressed and still have a big stupid heart that cares too much for people who don't deserve it.

I also think that the way it's handled can also say a lot about Yosuke and his growth as a person and his relationship and his fundamental understanding of Yu. He is able to extend the grace to forgive him- because of all people, he knows that Yu is suffering the weight on his shoulders. Yu, who (on top of being deeply rattled from Nanako's hospitalization) does his best to fulfill the role of perfect hero, perfect brother, perfect leader and friend and student- is trying so hard to save everyone and in that lies the weakness of failing to realize that he can't save everyone.

So, Is Yu an arrogant saint who fully forgives adachi- because he chooses to treat it as the morally correct decision despite it spitting in his team's faith? Is he a person who's stumbling under months of frantic, life or death rescue missions who's sense of judgment is warped by the loss of his family? Is he a kid who's been nonstop manipulated and groomed by a man for months? and who should yosuke see him as?

It can be an event that brings foreward the idea that Yu isn't perfect and that his fool needs his magician to show him the way now more than ever- a magician who's able to step back and see that in the heat of his own emotions, had almost got a (relatively) innocent man killed?

Yu is forced to come to the realization that he can't save everyone but he can be there to snap adachi's neck the second he even looks the wrong way- and yosuke's going to be the one there to hold him in place while he does it. True friends will help you bury the body, after all.

Overall, I think Jester Rank 8 can be a souyo cracking moment, or it can be a protagonist humanization one that makes it stronger (angst or fluff arcana...)

everything about me fucking wraps around to tale of desperaux. awooo.

[faust-lane]

[manderleyfire]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON COUNTDOWN TO S2 Day 7 – Dynamics: Otto x Alicent x Aegon

[why] DO YOU [destroy yourself] LOVE ME?

[daylighteclipsed]

While I’m talking, Cloud almost killing Tifa in Gongaga is not just a ‘would that be fucked up or what’ moment or even because Tifa has the true memories/proof to counter Sephiroth’s lies (though, that is part of it). It’s also because killing Tifa is the antithesis of who Cloud is. It’s the antithesis of the little boy who put his life on the line to save her and then dedicated his life to becoming strong enough to protect her. The antithesis of his promise to be there for her and the feelings behind it. “Cloud” and “Tifa’s killer” cannot coexist. “Cloud,” the boy defined by a desire to protect Tifa, cannot survive this. That’s why Sephiroth is trying so hard to get Cloud to kill Tifa. Sephiroth could kill her himself and that would still be majorly bad for Cloud’s true identity as he’d still lose his only tether to reality and the symbol of his conscience. But it wouldn’t be as effective as having Cloud do the honors. Sephiroth needs Cloud to kill the light in his own heart. He needs Cloud to kill his self. And there is no more definitive way than this.

[katyobsesses]

Chapters 15, 16, 17, 18 (most of P2)

Finally getting to this chapter. God that was a mess of a day yesterday. Water leak on a Saturday? Do not recommend, especially if you've just started your period, needed a shower, and plumbers can't come to fix it until Monday. So... No water... At all... Thank fuck for the Tesco down the road and dry shampoo.

Anyway, starting the gamessssss

Ew they reuse trackers that seems... Unsanitary

Ooh clever Haymitch, taking note of your surroundings, Katniss certainly didn't but then again she didn't have a plan to enact

(hm, wonder if this is maybe why she was kept out of the look with the CF plan? Because Hay was in on this plan and... I assume something goes wrong in a bad way, probably, idk brain not very eloquent rn)

Ouch ouch ouch just ouch. The group hugggggg

Oh, their pods are and podiums must be in order this year. It was random for k&p is this year why? Because they have this pack of newcomers this year and if they aren't random it's easier to find allies??

Silky fabric for the outfits, cool and flowy. Must be a warm arena, maybe it's waterproof too, since the training focused on staying dry and things you can do in wet.

Like I know we know that... Everything is poisonous but pretty... Right? Guess I'm about to know. Gah do I reread the CF portion now? I think I will so it's fresh in my mind going into the games.

Awe Effies the last person he sees 🥺🥺 (I wanna know the maysiffie interaction please thanks)

CF scene notes

Most seem like tryna wake from dream - or maybe just not rushing in to the cornucopia because of the alliance?

18 die off right. Wonder who. Katniss is very much not great at like taking things in huh?

Okay yeah, everything poisonous

Mountain in the north I suppose, he's heading to the bladder

Maysi is so fucking cool

Oh forgot the volcano 🙃

Hedge maze huh, forgot that too.

"because it has to end somewhere" right, maysi doesn't know the plan does she?

No talk of mutt portals (of course not, but I wonder what is different ahh so excited to see)

Hm, I'm gonna assume the plan was tried but failed, and now hay is looking for another way to break the arena (break the machine)

"I bet they had a good time trying to spin that one" oh and likely something even bigger too

"I think I finally know who Haymitch is" I have a feeling you really really don't

And back to our regularly scheduled programming

Wait in CF the newcomers seem to be in the mountains south not north like Hay... Unless he got his directions wrong?

N E S W no, he's right... What goes wrong?

"nothing venomous or deadly" oh Hay how wrong you are

(also dove bunnies??? Fuck Snow)

"This must be how insects feel in the nepenthes plant, right before they drown" - exactly, hence Plutarch showing him maybe?? A warning that not everything that's beautiful is safe? Like how he subtly showed K his MJ watch?

Shit the dove bunny dies how dare you

CHAPTER 16

The charcoal!!!! Use the charcoal hay!!!

Oh god,never thought the air could be poison too but duhhhh

Oh he puts on a brave face for his Ma 😭

Uh... Those are so not blueberries huh?

Oh Wyatt

Okay no LouLou in the propo what is she gonna do

We are so gonna get a Rue repeat huh? With this little girl from 11

Ah. Fuck. Knew it was capitol sending her. Question is is it Snow? Or Plutarch?

Lou Lou is gonna eat nightlock isn't she? I may have been mildly spoiled by seeing someone talk about how k&p with the berries has a deeper meaning now. Is it just... Poison arena? Or is it Lou Lou? Or, fuck, will it later be Lenore Dove?

No. No no no. Lou Lou 😭

CHAPTER 17

Getting too fast paced to make separate posts now lol. I'll just use this reblog until I'm having a break or the end of The Games themselves maybe

He refused to give up Louella now he's doing the same for Lou Lou. I'm crying again

Evil butterflies...

Sorry they completely took LouLou out of the recap in CF fuck them "fluffy golden squirrels... attack in packs" haven't seen yet but said first. Then mention of these butterflies. They've spliced footage out of order. Somehow taken LouLou out of it when the butterflies attack

She tumbles to the ground - they're able to make a shot of just hay here. And then he.... He leaves her fuck he leaves LouLou, running always. They don't need to show the initial in the recap, hence no Lou Lou but just him running out of the willow leaves

He doesn't want to die slow and painful... This is slow and painful fuck

And the striker comes in handy!

God using the arena against itself.

Ah, fireproof, imagine if the girl in fire ha... Omg OH MY GOD. The black coal like suits k&p wore. Was Cinna inspired by this?

Huh, duh the mutts are based on the bushes they come from

Hay is so not good at rationing food huh?

I was about to rage at the wine omg but it's just grape juice thank fuck the alcoholism isn't starting yet but wow I hate the foreshadowing

Putting on a show like Katniss, they really do get each other huh?

Again, we don't see any of this in the recap

"hope seems a lot like white liquor. It can fool you in the short run, but like as not, you'll end up paying for it twice" ah fuck fuck foreshadowing fuck it

Chapter 18

Fuck the clothing is for the lava huh?

Fuck this is gonna be kinda reminiscent to Finnicks death huh? When Hay needs to get back through the berm.

That's a lot of water. Maybe they were planning to do the lava then put it out

Or it's what is keeping everything alive? Hence the dry cliff later that we hear about in CF

"shine like heard candy in the Donners shop window" - these are what kill Maysi aren't they?? Fuck foreshadowing

Oh, nope, rainbow bats the fuck?

*insert that rainbow batman suit here*

Fuck the belting himself to the ladder paralleling Katniss belting herself to the tree and them both only hanging on in the face of an elemental force because of it

Oh nooooo Amperttttt

Also bad hearing from an explosion buddies hay and kat

Ah. Here are the Squirrels. Again, likely edited around Ampert in the recap and moved things about it seems, if Kat's recount of the recap is in order

"buddy" :(((((((((

There's only fucking BONES???????? FUCK THAT FUCK. Poor Beetee omg

Him just raging on the arena is a mood. Earlier I thought that honestly I would just set it all aflame and watch it burn.

Again, this was not in the recap

Ooo malfunctionig arena hell...fuck... Did this set off the volcano?

Also just realised but this is kinda Yellowstone vibes not sure if that's the point or not I'm not american

The goose song. I'm crying 😭

FUCK they were so fucking CLOSE even knowing it didn't stop the hunger games I still fucking hoped the fuck????

He and kat are so fucking similar OUCH.

And ... Volcano...

Right. New post for part 3 chapters me thinks

Sunrise On The Reaping Chapter 1

Stream of consciousness thoughts as I read. Spoilers under read more. You have been warned. Each chapter will be added in a reblog.

Page 5 broke me. Started with the geese and just kept going from there. I'm gonna sob at every line of this fucking book help

he was so happy and carefree I'm sobbing

Lenore's named after Lucy Gray 😭😭😭

The mockingjays are her birds 😭😭😭 I love her so much already help me I know what happens to heeeerrrrr I don't want to get attatcheeddddd

BURDOCK EVERDEEN HELP HAYMITCH IS CHILDHOOD FRIENDS WITH KATNISS'S DAD

AND HE IS COVEY-ADJECENT

"None of the covey do" they stopped singing after Lucy. I'm crying. 😭

Fuck her mum died in childbirth fuck fuck ouch Maude Ivory fucking *died* and now the covey don't sing in public help. It's not just loosing Lucy fuck fuck

"a teaspoon of trouble in a river of wrong" fuck that slaps also Suzanne Collins I hate you for making me feel so fucking much in barely 10 pages what the fuck

Also feel so fucking much over a song about fucking GEESE THE FUCK???

"not on my birthday, I've never had one that's come without a reaping"

And then fucking then the revolution happens in winter, like, the winter after the 75th hunger games so before his birthday which would have been reaping day of the 76th, right? SO HE DOES GET A BIRTHDAY WITHOUT A REAPING AND HE STARTS FUCKING RAISING GEESE

I'm actually sobbing and shouting at this book btw. I'm on page fucking 11

I can't handle this rn

Help

No. Wait a second. Help. Her... Fuck her mum isn't Lucy right? Her dad's not fucking Snow is it??? This fucking songbird and snake flint striker is making me think things I don't fucking want to be true but also really want to be fucking true the fuck

Fuck snow. Fuck him. I hate him fucking #1peacekeeper fuck you fuck you fuck you

This book is so fucking on the pulse of society huh? Fuck fuck fuck

I'm still screaming at each fucking paragraph if not every fucking line fuck

Me (bouncing up and down with sudden excitement): apothecary, apothecary, apothecary, apothecary

Burdock collects flowers and shit for the apothecary heeeellllpppp

Her name is Asterid like Astrid but with Aster like the flower. I'm sobbing. Help.

Heh Basterid the shitty ship name options of THG strike again I love it

Marrileeeeeeeee Madges muuuuuummmmmmm

Fuck Maisilee and marrilee that's fucking adorable naming conventions fuck

Ow fuck the whole recapping of the huger games broke me even more ouch ouch ouch

Ow Burdie. Burdocks nickname is *birdie* oooowwwwww

OKAY FUCK THAT FUCKING ENDING

Fuck fuck fuck that I e spoiler I thought was a joke was an actual spoiler huh?

Fuck okay *fuck*

That's chapter one done

I'm... As dead as woodbine chance right now.

Holy shit.

That was.

Wow.

On to chapter 2 I suppose???????

Also wow I wish I'd thought to film my reaction too because the amount I've had to put the book down to curse out both this fictional government and our real life governments is insane. The amount I've put it down to fucking sob over Haymitch's future. The amount of times I've even fucking giggled and kicked my feet and squealed into the pages

Fuck that was a rollercoaster of a chapter and theres... 27 more including epilogue.

Fuck

I... Am deceased

[daily-hanamura]

[lavenderjewels]

This was a good and overlooked Kenjaku appearance, but it makes me want to see Kenjaku in Geto’s body with different hairstyles

[skully-64]

As the lead taction of the Ylissian army, and personal friend of the acting exalt, Vinnie had been taken along to ask for assistance from the new king of Plegia.

Aversa, the royal adviser, guides them through the castle, speaking about the new king, Validar, talking about how the both of the are Grimleal, worshippers of the dragon Grima. As they all approach the meeting room, she explains that they meant to pay a visit to Ylisstol, though is cut off by the arrival of the king.

Vinnie immediately recognizes him, the assassin that tried to kill Emmeryn two years ago, now the king of Plegia. He can hear Chrom talking, though he pays no attention, his mind racing to come up with some explanation of how a man he himself killed is now standing before him as the king of a country.

"And you must be Lady Vincian." Vinnie blinks, and looks up at Validar as the king addresses him.

"Sir Vincian." he corrects. "You know of me, Sire?"

Validar chuckles darkly, his mouth contorting into a grin that set off all the alarm bells in Vinnie's head "Sir Vincian, my apologies. The whole world knows of Ylisse's master taction! And indeed, I see the sparkle of wisdom in your eyes."

Vinnie averts his gaze, and the meeting continues. Though he really should be paying attention, he can't seem to bring himself to. After a few minutes, a new figure stepped into the room, dressed in the same coat that Vinnie wore, and though he wore a different garb underneath the coat now, she was wearing the same clothes he had when he first awoke two years before. A small amount of raspberry hair seeps out from beneath the hood that covered her face

"The heart still sleeps, but the blood flows through it. And the blood is strong." The figure speaks, sounding uncannily like Vinnie when he doesn't remember to shift his voice to a more masculine pitch.

Vinnie looks up at the figure, taking in her appearance. Silence covered the room for a brief second, before Vinnie spoke "Are... Are you speaking to me?"

She did not answer. Fredrick stepped forward, and spoke with the same confidence he always did "Good hierophant, I would ask you to lower your cowl. In Ylisse, it is a courtesy expected of one in the presence of royalty."

She was silent for a beat, before responding "You are a long way from Ylisse, sir...But very well..." She pulled down her hood, and Vinnie's blood. Her raspberry hair covered half her face, and there was a strand far longer than the rest on the other side. Her eyes were a deep greenish blue, with little flecks of gold throughout, and she looked Identical to Vinnie. "Is that better?"

Vinnie stayed silent, thought the others let out cries of surprise in reaction. The woman smirked, seeming pleased with the reaction she had caused. "My name is Vincian. Oh, and that was your name as well, wasn't it? what a strange coincidence..."

Vinnie could barely hear what else was said, though they were rushed out soon after that. As soon as they exited the castle, and were out of earshot of Aversa, Validar, and the other Vincian, Vinnie turned to Chrom. "That's not possible." he was sure that his face, as well as his voice betrayed his panic, as he was too rattled to maintain his usual facade of calm.

Chrom nodded "She looked exactly like you, er, well not because you look like a woman-"

Vinnie cut him off "Yes, that, but her name..."

Chrom blinked "A strange coincidence all things considered, but-"

Vinnie cut him off once more "No, Chrom, I made up the name Vincian. not when you first found me in that field, before then. Sure, it's possible someone else thought of it at some point, but it's not a plegian name, and it sure as hell isn't common." he paused to take a breath, "The nickname Vinnie is common with another real name, but it has more of a masculine connotation... It's all too much to be a coincidence. it's like her whole.. well, everything, is modeled after me..."

Chrom and Fredrick both gave Vinnie a grave look. neither of them had answers either. Still, they had bigger things to focus on at the moment than this.

[shadowcutie]

Oh, come on. Let it hurt.

[coolcattime]

Playing Until Dawn got the first time where I'm actually the one holding the controller because I wanna play the full game and get my personal favourite ending before the movie and the remaster/remake comes out:

On one hand despite my typical shaking hand problems, I literally got no moment whatsoever in the first Don't Move, so I think playing that weird meditation minigame from Wii Fit Plus years ago has actually given me some benefit.

On the other hand, it had been so long since I have used a PlayStation controller and am struggling so hard to remember which button is which. I am very worried for the quick time events as this game progresses.