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neiptune · 6 months ago

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to hell with the stars, keep shooting for the moon

cw: 3k wc, female reader, established relationship, suggestive if you squint, reader is a gymnast, my entry for the super fun summer olympics collab by @tetzoro! hope you'll enjoy the little surprise i squeezed in hehe

“For the last time, I’m not having sex with you on one of those cardboard beds”.

Atsumu isn’t the least bit discouraged by your exasperated scowl, which is met with a pout.

“But babe-”

“I don’t care how many times Tobio’s done it, ‘Tsumu” you click your tongue.

“It’s just so fucking bizarre that he gets so much action, the guy doesn’t even do anything! Shoyo agrees, we discussed it and still couldn’t find a reason” the blond, excessively petulant Miya who makes it a point to be the bane of your existence, keeps listing all the reasons why he believes his teammate shouldn’t be getting laid in the olympic village. Or anywhere else ever, for the matter.

The heated arguments float through a distant hemisphere of your brain, where they dissolve before you can quite catch their meaning and soon enough become simple sounds you’re passively absorbing, thoughts too preoccupied with something entirely different.

The choreographies you put together with your trainer have been playing in the back of your mind ever since last night, after the all-around individual qualification round. You are part of the 10 gymnasts with the highest scores, four performances with each apparatus earning a fairly decent ranking and good enough points. Well, they’re certainly good enough, given that you get to represent Japan at the individual final. But you just know they could be better. Your feet should’ve been firmer, hands less sweaty around the clubs, you should’ve stretched for at least 50 minutes prior to the routine instead of the usual 40 ones.

Pulse picks up in pace, heart thrumming faster against your ribcage, dizziness clouds your mind for a moment as different moves chase each other in rapid succession: the penché comes first, then follows the elbow stand, front walkover, one forward roll, a chest stand-

Gentle, calloused fingers grasp your chin and tilt your head upwards in silent demand. Look at me.

“Get out of there and talk to me, sugar” the fondness in his chocolate gaze is a balm that instantly soothes the churning sensation sabotaging your stomach.

“I won’t make it” it’s blunt, raw in its honesty “I’m too scared”.

“Ya worked your ass off the past four years. Your entire life actually”.

“I know”.

“And whatever happens, you’re one of the best ten gymnasts in the world”.

“I know”.

Atsumu gets closer as his hands hold your face now, gentle but firm, an all too familiar flame starts dancing in feverish eyes.

“But?”.

You recognize that gaze, the raging, febrile determination taking over. He gets it on his side of the net, where he gets to run the show. And oh, isn’t that always a sight for sore eyes? It certainly was at the olympics too, when the entire world got to witness what Japan is already used to. The game against Argentina was nothing short of glorious, the way Atsumu coordinated his team’s offense, established the entire tempo and overall built the confidence in his passers had the crowds chanting his name over and over again. By the evening, you’re positive at least a hundred new Miya Atsumu fan accounts had started following you on instagram.

And yet he doesn’t take any of it for granted. Atsumu always gives his very best, at the olympics or during regular training with his friends. Whether Tobio is going to play or not. That passion simply sets his soul ablaze at all times, with no exception. He’s the man you love and the only one who can truly understand how you feel, the one person who is ignited with the same delirious resolve currently burning in the pit of your stomach.

“But I really want that fucking medal” you whisper. Not to prove him that you have it in you just like he does: truth is you’re the only person who needs additional convincing.

Sharp canines make their appearance when Atsumu smiles widely.

“Then go get it. The hell are you scared of? That medal belongs to you”.

Your eyelids flutter as they fall shut, a deep breath filling your lungs with fresh air. When you open your eyes again, you feel your heart filling up with something else too.

“I love you”.

His eyes soften at that, affection pools within crinkles by the eyes as a confident grin morphs into a warm smile.

“Love ya more, champion” Atsumu kisses your forehead with tenderness, lingers for a moment too long with lips pressing to your skin with intention. Then he lets go of your face but not before searching for any remnants of self-doubt. His chest swells with pride when all he can find in your eyes is that determination he adores.

“Will you be there?” you ask because you can’t help it. It’s perfectly understandable that he might not be able to, his schedule is just as busy as yours and Japan’s final game is just two days away. It’s not entirely fair to ask and someone else might’ve rolled their eyes with a sigh, reminded you that they don’t get to decide that. But not Atsumu. He takes one of your hands and brings it to his lips to kiss each knuckle.

“I’ll do everything I can to be there”.

“Thank you” you lightly pinch his nose with an infatuated smile and he fakes a groan “see you later”.

“I love you!” he shouts as you run away, loud and obnoxious and passionate, just like his affection always is. Once again, Atsumu’s love is thrown over your shoulders like a comforting blanket that weighs just right.

Back at the beginning of your relationship, you had to unlearn a very specific thought process that posed the risk of ending something that still hadn’t had the chance to fully start. It was your first time dating another pro athlete, a very talented and quite renowned one no less. You were first introduced to him at a party, he had no idea who you were but of course you were all too familiar with his name and accomplishments.

Miya Atsumu was a pro volleyball player, known for his exceptional flair and fierce passion ever since high school. His reputation made you believe that, as an athlete yourself, you had to prove him that you were just as good in your own sport. Wasn’t that all he’d be interested in? Dating someone who wouldn’t embarrass him with their mediocrity, someone who wouldn’t stain his polished reputation?

Turns out, by no means Atsumu was interested in all that. He asked if it was okay for him to come watch one of your competitions, coincidentally one of your worst ones. You were all too aware of how badly you had competed, nerves and a recent flu contributing to a terrible performance, yet at the end of it Atsumu greeted you with stars in his eyes. He couldn’t stop talking about how elegant yet strong you looked, going as far as describing your choreographies as breathtaking. With a nervous chuckle, he half-jokingly said he couldn’t believe you’d let him date you.

That’s when you kissed him for the first time, fiery and feverish in a way that would’ve probably scared anyone else off. Not Atsumu, though. He wrapped his arms around you without so much as an ounce of hesitation, kissed you back like it was the last action he was allowed to perform on this earth. And you knew: he didn’t need you to be a winner, to be shiny at all times, to feel proud. To love you. Whether you end up bringing the medal home or not, he will still be your biggest fan and loudest supporter.

The intensity of the crowd doesn’t bother you at all: given your anxious nature, Chisaka-san has been adamant about training you with headphones and loud tapes for years. Music, cheers, booing, clapping, national anthems, you’re used to it all by now.

You observe the ukrainian gymnast, the way she moves so elegantly with her colorful ribbon. It looks like she’s flying, hopping on invisible steps made of air, sparkly leotard catching the light just right. Yours cost a fortune: handmade, sewn in Italy, a triumph of colorful stretch mesh, thermal crystals and sew-on rhinestones in various sizes and shapes.

As Chisaka-san helps you practice the usual deep breaths with a hand pressed to your chest, your eyes are still glued to your opponent. The podium is yours, unless you fuck up so badly even the bronze slips away. Daryna currently has the highest score and it’s certain she will protect the lead at the end of her final routine. Then follows Bulgaria’s Katerina, but you’re hardly worried about her: she finished her last exercise without catching the ribbon, a penalty you can easily overcome if luck and nerves are on your side.

When after an impeccable Daryna your name is announced at last, your trainer gives your butt a friendly, encouraging pat. She believed in you more than anyone else, more than yourself. She knew you’d qualify for the olympics and would be flying to Paris before you could even dream of such an achievement. And now you get to honor her trust, you get to prove that Paris is where you belong. The podium is yours because like hell you’re allowing it to slip away. But you want more, you want that gold.

The crowd seems louder now, flags raised in flashes of white and red in your peripheral as you smile radiantly and position yourself to start the routine. You don’t check if Atsumu was able to make it, don’t allow yourself to think of anything but the way your feet and legs and arms and hands are supposed to move.

The longest 85 seconds of your life begin along with the music, Piazzolla’s libertango but with a modern, energetic arrangement. The ribbon is not as scary as the hoop, it moves with you like an old friend, seamless and reliable. You throw the handle into the air and perform two forward rolls before catching it again in one fluid motion, lips perpetually stretched into a confident smile. The crowd erupts in deafening cheers at your backscale pivot, the more you keep cutting through the air with precision, control and passion, the more your smile grows. Yes, this is where you belong, this is what you love and were made to do.

There’s your signature move, difficult and risky and one Chisaka-san always attempts to talk you out of: a technical element, Bessonova’s swan, while simultaneously kicking the ribbon into the air with your foot once more. You catch it one last time, perform an aerial cartwheel and then a perfectly balanced backward somersault, wrap yourself in the colorful shades of your apparatus and gracefully conclude the routine on the floor.

The crowd is ear-splitting in their support and you don’t have to wait for the score to know: it was perfect. It’s the best you ever did and the tension finally melts into hot tears as you wave and smile and foolishly attempt to wipe the wetness from your cheeks at the same time. Chisaka-san wraps you up in her comforting embrace and you hide your face in her white uniform, ears ringing, blood scorching in veins throbbing with adrenaline.

“I can’t look” you whisper into her shoulder and she gently guides you to the bench, all emotional murmurs and soft touches. She sits next to you, holds your hand as you force a quivering smile to the camera, peace sign held high. And then you can barely catch a glimpse of your scores before Chisaka-san forces you into her arms and against her chest again, right as fresh tears stain your cheeks. She lets you have this moment, shields your first reaction from the world and the prying eyes of cameras that are on you once more because holy shit, Daryna has a 140.60 but you have a 142.850. They gave you a difficulty score of 19.300 and an execution one of 8.550.

“I knew it!” Chisaka-san is the only thing keeping you grounded because it truly feels as if you’re floating. It doesn’t matter how badly you wanted it, how much you fought for it, the moment doesn’t feel real. Not even as the other gymnasts come to hug you and you congratulate them in turn, it’s a whirlwind of all-encompassing love and support and mutual happiness. Moments like this make your sport truly special, they remind you that fierce competition only feels right when balanced by appreciation for your opponents’ efforts and individual journeys.

The crowd erupts in new, loud cheering and you catch a glimpse of the different face the cameras are now focusing on. A handsome face with suspicious dampness glistening on cheeks and a smile so warm, beaming with pride. You can’t help but smile back as your legs move on autopilot, a bottle of water dropped to the floor as you sprint towards the bleachers. Atsumu is in the front row and he easily catches you right as you jump onto him, arms wrapped around his neck.

“Told ya. It belongs to you” he whispers in your ear and you almost start crying again at the trembling in his voice, so many overwhelming emotions swarming in your chest at once.

“Thank you for believing in me” you mutter and pull back to look at him, because even in a venue packed with people and cameras and journalists he still manages to be the brightest, the one thing you could look at forever without ever growing tired of it.

“Always” Atsumu grins, eyes glazed with defiant tears “you did so well. Look at ya, my girl’s an olympic medalist!”.

And because you know he won’t do it, god forbid he takes the most special moment of your life away from you, you kiss him. It’s brief, two pecks that linger just enough before he lets you go, urges you to go back out there and celebrate. You don’t care that videos of this moment are probably going to be flooding every social media platform in a matter of minutes, similarly to how Atsumu hardly gives a damn about all the phones and cameras he has in his face when he runs to you after a game, whether his team wins or not.

It’s hard not to tear up again as the japanese national anthem echoes through the building, so many people singing along as you stand on the podium you have dreamed of every single day of your life. You smile, proud and big, take selfies with the other two medalists and make sure you hug every single gymnast you come across goodbye before walking out of the venue, a promise to catch up with your trainer in the evening.

Atsumu waits for you outside, he doesn’t have any additional training left for the day and you want nothing more than to walk back to the village with him, lovesick smile growing in size when you spot him underneath the afternoon sun, golden light caught beautifully in that honey blond hair.

“There she comes, the girl of my dreams” he coos and you roll your eyes with affection “I hear she’s now the greatest gymnast in the world, too!”.

“Corny” you murmur against his lips as he pulls you in for a real kiss, one of those you’re never willing to give him in front of the cameras.

“About those cardboard beds…” it’s a faint whisper into his mouth but it’s enough for Atsumu to pick you up and twirl until you’re both laughing between kisses, until someone clearing their throat prompts you to abruptly pull back and force your feet onto the ground again.

When you turn around, the embarrassed smile quickly grows into a surprised grin. The stranger is looking back at you with the faintest hint of a smirk and Atsumu isn’t entirely sure he loves the way you take a tentative step toward him.

“Congrats. It was a good routine, not your best though”.

“Oh my god” you chuckle, astonished, and Atsumu is now certain he doesn’t enjoy watching you run to hug this weird, 6’1 stranger with dark hair and teal eyes. He definitely doesn’t enjoy the way the stranger wraps his arms around you with a sigh.

“I should’ve known you’d be here! How long has it been? Look at you, all grown up!” you let him go, still smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“Too long” he concedes and if the stranger wasn’t still all caught up in old, familiar patterns of stubborn coldness, maybe he would be able to utter the truth about how much he’s missed one of his oldest friends.

“I missed you” as usual, you take it upon yourself to fill the spaces left empty by his obstinacy with warmth. His eyes soften and you smile again as you turn to look at your boyfriend.

“’Tsumu, c’mere!” you’re holding out a hand, an impatient invitation “come meet Rin!”

Atsumu is openly wary of your friend, one you’re obviously close enough to address by his first name. As he shakes his hand with a fake megawatt smile, Rin seems to be equally skeptical and does nothing to hide it.

“He’s your boyfriend?” he asks, briefly scanning Atsumu from head to toe with an openly dubious gaze “came all the way here just to support you?”

“Atsumu is a pro volleyball player, he’s in the national team just like you!”

“Volleyball, huh?” Rin cocks his head “doesn’t really interest me. I find it to be overrated”.

“I mean…”.

“And what would your sport be, Itoshi?” Atsumu can feel a vein throb on his forehead as he politely interrupts you.

“Soccer”.

“Oh!” a seemingly friendly laugh bubbles up from his throat but you recognize the petulant vibration to it “soccer! I think there’s only so long you can watch a player throw himself on the ground because he stubbed his toe on the grass or, I don’t know, try the same failed corner kick for the millionth time”.

You uncomfortably clear your throat and Rin directs his attention to you once more. Isn’t that what being a mature adult is all about? Ignoring pretentious assholes he doesn’t even know?

“I mean it, by the way. You deserve that gold more than anyone else I know”.

“C’mon, say it” you chuckle “I know you noticed”.

He mirrors your smile, pleased that the familiarity strengthened by years of friendship is still here.

“Barely catched that ribbon in the end, could’ve made that front walkover less stiff. Good job overall, though”.

Atsumu wants to punch him in the goddamn face, especially as you laugh once more.

“How come he’s so familiar with gymnastics?” he asks instead.

“Rin used to come watch my training sessions back in high school, although it’s insane to me that he still remembers!”.

“She never missed any of my trainings either” Rin smirks once more, gaze locked to the man in front of him.

“Speaking of!” you lightly smack his arm “when are you guys playing?”.

“Tomorrow. I can arrange special seats if you want”.

“Oh, I’d love to come! We should totally go, ‘Tsumu!”.

“Yeah, totally” Atsumu forces another smile onto his lips.

That night, as you’re cuddled against his chest on that infuriatingly uncomfortable cardboard bed, he believes it’s of the utmost importance to share the picture of you with an adorable smile and the medal around your neck as you stand proudly on that podium, followed by the two of you kissing right after your win.

miyatsumu the most hardworking person I know. my golden girl, now an olympic champion ❤️🥇

He thinks it’s a good caption and, as you softly snore in the quiet of the dark room, Atsumu also believes he’s in a mood good enough to decide not to block Shoyo on the spot after receiving his stupidly enthusiastic text about befriending some super nice dude on the national soccer team.

Whoever the hell Isagi Yoichi is anyway.

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #haikyuu x reader

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bet-on-me-13 · 1 year ago

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Danny is The Doctor (Dr Who)

So! I've been on a Dr Who High for a little while now, and I thought this idea up.

Danny, as the apprentice to Clockwork, has the ability to traverse Time, and his can use his own Powers to traverse Space.

(He is not at the same level of Time Manipulation as Clockwork, but he is still very good at it. Less of a Time Master, and more of a Time Lord if you will)

So, after his family dies and he is left alone for his Immortal Life, he gets bored. Taking a Cue from Ellie and her whole Exploration Obsession, while also indulging in his own Space Obsession, Danny decides to explore Space and Time to his heart's content. (Maybe Ellie is his Companion?)

He travels the Universe, visiting different planets, witnessing historical events, and sometimes even Helping wherever he can. He is still a Protector Spirit after all.

He doesn't use his powers much these days, in fact he has mostly locked them away in favor of using his own custom built Inventions to get any task done. He is the son of Mad Scientists after all, and he likes to Own It.

Danny becomes known across the Universe in the same way that the Doctor is. To some he is a Savior, a Healer, a Wiseman. To others he is a Demon, a Trickster, a Warrior.

Danny becomes the Boogeyman of the Universe, so it's no surprise that one day someone tries to contain him, to keep him Locked Up so he can never interfere with the Universe again. To do so, they build a Device named, The Pandorica.

(Yup, I'm using that little thing in this)

Danny is trapped within the Pandorica, mulling over the Irony of being trapped by a Device named after one of his friends, for Eons. He is completely and utterly trapped.

Sealed Away, waiting for the day when someone will set him free.

...

Now imagine this.

The JLA has just confiscated an extremely Old and Extremely Magical Box from an Alien Cult, who were proclaiming that they would use the Pandorica Warrior to fell their greatest foe.

They call in Constantine to explain what it is, and just imagine the Doctors description of the Pandorica Scene coming him him.

"This is the Pandorica, an Ancient Magical Prison designed to hold the worst of all bad guys." Started Constantine.

"Why was it made?" Asked Superman.

"There was a Goblin, or a Trickster. Or a Warrior." Constantine explained as he paced a circle around the Box in front of them, "A nameless, terrible thing. Soaked in the blood of a Billion Galaxies. The most feared being in all the cosmos."

He took a closer look at the box and Continued. "And nothing could stop it, or hold it, or reason with it. One day it would just drop out of the sky and tear down your world."

He paused and took a deep breath, "Or at least that's how the Story goes, probably why those cultists wanted it so bad. The greatest Warrior in existence on their side? It would be an instant win button."

"Is it possible to open it?" Asked Batman.

"Easily, anybody can break into a Prison. I just want to know what we'll find first."

Zatanna interrupted, "Won't need to wait long, it's already opening. Layers and Layers of Magical Barriers are dispersing as we speak. That Cult knew what they were doing, it's going to open soon. Very soon."

The Box in front of them shuddered a little, and they tensed. They waited for a few moments to see if it would do anything, but eventually they realized it was probably just a side effect of the barriers falling.

"How soon can we expect it to open?" Asked Batman, still tense.

Constantine replied this time, "From what I can tell, maybe 2 hours at most. So you have that much time to prepare to meet the Universes most feared Individual."

...

Just thought of this while I was binging Dr Who videos on Tiktok and thought, "this would be cool as a dpxdc idea"

Here is the Video that inspired me, give it a watch

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Dr Who #Doctor Who #Danny is the Doctor #Ellie is his Companion #Danny is sealed inside of the Pandorica #The Pandorica #At least the irony of the situation is entertaining #Ellie is just waiting for her bro to wake up she they can get going #Like waiting for him to get out of the bathroom #Ellie is the Centurion?#New Headcanon: When a Halfa dies they go through a similar process to Regeneration but they don't have a limit #You can just explain it as their souls going through Reincarnation very rapidly

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l0vesecretsociety · 2 months ago

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PATHS

“I hope our paths cross again.”

tags: ekko x fem! reader, angst, closure. warnings: none. art, not mine.

You never imagined, for all the moments you’ve spent together, and the years you’ve ‘wasted,’ this fleeting youthful love between you and Ekko has ended. There wasn't an end credits that rolled to your story, only that soft hum you used to hear from him. Silly you, unprepared and wounded, clenched into a fetal position. You savor your tears for tonight, and tomorrow will come where you will no longer walk the same path as his—no longer wake up on the same side of the bed because you took over his. His space was void and empty, so you fill it with your body still trying to cling to the scent he left. But every time you do, his shadow fades away and you think, no, know, he will soon drift into another’s arms. Your tears stained the sheets of his pillows, or what was once his. And you scream for days on end. Your friends try to pull you from the cliff you fell from, to cheer you up and they tell you, “You’ll meet others,” but how can she? When all Ekko had done was be good to you, provide for you, care for you in ways you thought was irreplaceable. You’re a mess and you can’t help it, that’s why he was there. To clean you up and love you even though… you’re different.

“I think we should end this.” You could still hear his voice like it was yesterday, even though a few years had already passed by. You froze like a deer on headlights, you see the light but you don’t move. You wait for it to crash onto you and kill you. “I’ve got a thing going on with the firelights now, and… I, I can’t have you there anymore.” But it doesn’t and you live to see another day. He left you bleeding, like a wounded soldier, a cut that runs deeper than it looks. Questions inside your head were not doubt, but a question of loss. Where were the signs?

You try to piece the puzzle of his mind, but in the years to come, you give up attempting to find the answer. You both were young, and sure, it was a heartbreak but you’ve learned a lot. You keep him in your heart, because you promised that you would. You reminisce at the memories you shared, the anger that boiled your blood leaving your body and soul, the butterflies every time he kissed you softly now flew away, leaving your stomach empty. And that one time he built a little stargazing hideaway for you, just for it to run down with cobwebs and overgrown with earth returning. The futures you both wrote together now feel ghost stories you remember like a memoir for the people that never existed.

Even as a war passed through Piltover like a storm, a thousand deaths, and a thousand more griefs. As the city rebuilds itself, you do too. You’ve got an amazing job! After the mess he left you in, it took awhile… but you did your best to pick yourself up and bandage the wounds and you’re doing so well.

The bridge that used to separate Piltover and Zaun, now collectively crowded and busier than before. You find yourself browsing the fresh produce, hearing the bustling vendors to come by at their shops. Street food never smelt so savory and the sun shined brighter than before. Everything has changed, but the bridge remained. You’ve changed too. With your hair longer than the awful cut you had before and your fashion fancier, something you’ve always been proud to afford.

You were in through the fruits, looking to satiate your sweet tooth. A peach would do, you might make tea out of it later. Just as soon as your fingers touch a piece of that peach—the one below it rolls down the mountain, almost falling. Luckily for you, there lay a hand that caught it quickly. You look up preparing yourself to thank the person.

“...Ekko?” You say in complete disbelief. But sometimes, it takes only one thing to bulldoze progress.

"Never thought I’d run into you here. Small world, huh?”

He’s rendered you speechless again, he does have a way of doing that. “It’s a typical day,” you nod. You observe him a little and see the way he’s changed too. He’s gotten taller and muscular the last time you remember. You receive the peach from him, placing it on the basket so you could pay. Before you could reach for the money, he’s already placed it on the platter. “You don’t have to-“

“No.” Firm and true. “I owe you.”

You couldn’t tell what he was referring to—was it the peach that maybe had something to do with him? Or the favors of the past? Or was it the ripping of your heart that left you in a lifeless condition? You certainly don’t want to know, but a small voice inside of you does want to. He’s doing it all over again, that same devilish closed lip smile that etched your memory. No! You tell yourself.

He’s been observing you too, looking at you like he used to, admiring the way you dressed in skirts now. The way you parted your hair somehow changed the shape of your face, and the way the gold ring on your ring finger perfectly snuggled and decorated you. He assumes it's just a decoration, he hopes it is just that. But he knows, there was a full possibility that it was not just for display. He blinks twice. You stayed…beautiful.

“It’s not fair,” you say before turning away from him, the peach sleeping in your basket.

“Wait!” He speaks your name like a prayer. It was not silent, it was loud, and begging.

You clutched the rattan in your hand, your right foot a step ahead yet refuses to move as if it was glued to the floor. You wanted to leave. You don’t need explanations from him. But you do.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t speak. But him saying that lifted the burden off your shoulders, somehow releasing the tension in your bones. Something very deeply engraved inside you was the hope that one day your paths would cross again. A simple phrase extinguishes that fire in you; your hands relaxed and your shoulders loosen. It was not bad, and you were glad.

Finally, you can now leave the path the youth in you built, no longer leaving behind a trail of tears. A silent goodbye to the girl that you once were with and without him, letting yourself walk away, full and sure.

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1moreff-creator · 3 months ago

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What are some dynamics (in terms of like, foils/parallels) that you enjoy in DRDT?

you’re staring at a forest and asking me for every tree i like. do you want me to write another 28k word post /lh

I jest, of course, but not about the number of interesting foils in this series. It does a fantastic job tying everyone into several key themes in ways that make their dynamics endlessly enriching for my silly little character parallel-loving brain. So, uh, get ready for a long-ish post?

CW: One mention of self-harm, self-loathing

Teruko-David: I mean, you gotta start at the center, yeah? David’s the closest thing to a “main antag” we have, and it’s no wonder; the guy’s built like a standard DR protag, obviously he’s gonna have a cool dynamic with the actual protagonist.

These two could breathe a bit weird and somehow parallel each other doing it, that’s how much this foil permeates both their characters. From their fatalistic outlooks on the world (“my luck will always be terrible, I’ll always be betrayed” vs “people can’t change, the world sucks”), the ways they hide their feelings (Teruko was more distrustful than she first presented herself as, but cares about people more than she shows during most of CH2; while David has an entire different persona up to 2-11 and then pretends to be worse than he actually is), the self-loathing (Teruko refuses to think she could be a good person, David has the whole “inhuman” thing going on), down to the oddball sibling figure (Terubro “I know nothing about you” Tawaki vs Diana “I’m not even sure you exist” Chiem).

There’s their feelings about Xander and Min, too, which are all over the place. Obviously we all saw in 2-12 how much the British twink fucked both of them up severely, with Teruko rejecting any positive or yearning feelings she may have had about Xander (you can’t hide the cactus scene from us girl) while David vehemently defended him from any criticism. On the other side, Min is less of a narrative poltergeist (for now; XF-Ture exists), but she still comes up with them, with David calling her pathetic eleven episodes after Min hugs Teruko and Teruko’s internal monologue gives away how much she cares about the Student.

And these parallels play into their weird-ass dynamic very well, because their beefing is founded on their similarities and their differences, out of projecting their self-loathing to someone similar at the same time they hate each other because of their disagreements on things like Xander. Crazy stuff.

Xander-Min: Mentioning these two second because they’re also Eternal Parallels. There’s almost not a single thing about these two that isn’t somehow reflected on the other. If you projected them onto each other’s direction, you would get no perpendicular component. Get it, ‘cuz they’re completely parallel- That is, by far, the nerdiest joke I’ve ever made, I apologize.

But come on. Their attitudes towards fate (the Rebel fighting it and Min resigning herself to the XF-Ture thing), the whole “holding on to the past vs wanting to move on from the past” thing, the similarities between how they actually feel about the education system (they have issues with it) contrasted with the things they actually do in respects to that (Min is still the Ultimate Student, but Xander dislikes that), their already mentioned contrasting connections to Teruko and David… Just, absolutely everything about them is a meaningful contrast. And it comes into play a lot, with their eternal beef being born largely out of these parallels. They’re awesome.

Teruko-Ace: Pretty topical for post-CH2. Ace’s entire arc is sort of a reflection of Teruko’s, yet taken to the extreme because of one particular point of contrast; Ace feared death, Teruko doesn’t think she can die. But he still basically serves as a demonstration of all the flaws in Teruko’s all mindset; the feeling of unchangeable fate, the complete lack of trust, all the good stuff. It basically allows an exploration of Teruko’s mindset from an outside perspective, which makes it easier to see the flaws in it.

Ace-Nico: Also topical, these recap foils go kinda insane. Their motives for murder, their contrasting talents (love for animals on Nico's side and fear of horses on Ace's), the way they relate to the rest of the cast, Ace's persecution complex vs Nico actively disliking how much Hu defends them, etc., it’s all very fun to see play out.

Ace-Levi: The one who doesn’t care but protects others and tries his best to be a good person so he can be accepted in society without having issues, vs the guy that acts like an asshole because he’s scared of caring too much and he thinks the only way he can get out alive is by being the only one to survive. This leads to a fundamental misunderstanding between them that causes some of the most doomed yaoi of all time, which is the whole “Levi getting frustrated at not understanding Ace.”

Arei-David: You’ve presumably watched 2-13, so I don’t think I need to explain all the awesome stuff that’s come from their shared themes of “good people” and self-betterment and all that. Not to mention, David’s little breakdown over Arei trusting the letter of the only friend she had being presumably born from the way he saw Xander as the only friend he had. Shit goes crazy.

Arei-Eden: Recap foils… Good people… The choice to be kind… Etc… Woah :O

Teruko-Charles: Ah, Teru’s recap foil. This one’s basically opposite of Ace’s, where Charles used to be sort of like Teruko acted in CH2, but later became a bit friendlier, if still somewhat prickly. Basically, if Ace highlights Teruko’s character traits from CH2, Charles post CH1 serves as more or less the “end goal” in a way. It goes beyond that, too, with the whole memory issues (prosopagnosia vs childhood amnesia) and, again, mysterious siblings (Terubro and Elliot what are your deals), so it’s always neat to rotate these two in the brain.

Veronika-Levi: We really don’t know too much about Vero, which always makes it a bit harder when analyzing these dynamics, but they already got some interesting points of contrast. Neither of them are particularly concerned about the deaths of the others, at least post-CH2 (Levi doesn’t grieve and Vero actively laughs at Ace’s death), but it comes from almost opposite ends of perspective. Levi doesn’t understand others because he doesn’t feel much empathy (if any at all), while Vero seems to treat the others not as people, but almost as characters to be analyzed (that’s the impression I get, at least), which makes her come off as very good at reading people but also occasionally causes her to see them as sources of entertainment first and foremost. Not to mention there’s also the fact they’re both very different people than they were in the past (Levi was some form of delinquent and now is a good person, Vero used to be outdoorsy and then no longer was). Wow that’s… more than I thought there was- How am I finding more interesting foils just by writing more???

Hu-Levi: I kinda talked about this in my CH2 PT2 analysis so read that ig.

J-Rose: A pair of recap foils who haven’t had too much yet, but a lot of their themes, in particular about fate and privilege and stuff, are pretty noticeable with them, so this is always a fun dynamic to consider.

Levi-Arturo: More recap foils, this one’s fun because of the dead family member :) Also things like their talents being related to aesthetics and both doing the things they do for a better life.

Veronika-Hu: This one’s kinda more hypothetical, since Vero in particular hasn’t had as much direct focus as other characters yet, but that’s part of what makes them fun. Past history of self-harm (even if brought on by very different feelings) is just the first of many parallels they could have, and it’s fun to see the contrast between Hu defending Nico to the ends of the Earth and Vero talking about how much she likes Arturo because of how awful he is. They’re really silly.

David-Whit: All the recap foils are fun, but I've always struggled to see this one in particular. Partly because I feel like I know less about Whit than I know about Mai :v Still, certain things like Whit ignoring anything that upsets him which connects to David constantly lying about his real feelings for his fans, which is probably what leads to David's outburst at Whit in the second trial.

Teruko-MonoTV: Because fate. Really this is here plainly because it’s just a funny as hell dynamic to even consider lol.

Teruko-Mai: Have they interacted? Has Mai had enough screen time to truly determine that this parallel truly exists? Do we even know a single theme that Mai’s character touches on for certain? No and it doesn’t matter! Because these two are clearly connected somehow and the whole “someone dearly loved - someone dearly unloved” thing makes me ill. Mai is getting mentioned in this post and you're not stopping it.

Mai-Whit: Fuck it! “We tend to idolize the dead” dynamic!!! It's very speculative, but this one’s just fun to ponder even if we have even less idea of what could be going on between the two than with Mai-Teruko.

Anyways ready for a few themes that run through a lot of characters?

David-Levi-Nico-Rose: The “feeling disconnected from the rest of humanity’s experiences” gang!!!

Min-Rose-Hu-Veronika-Arturo: The “wants to move on from the past” gang!!!

Min-Arei-Teruko-Ace: The “trying to fix mistakes” gang!!!

Teruko-David-Eden-Arei-Levi-Xander: The “what makes a good person?” gang!!!

Teruko-David-Xander-Min-J-Whit-Ace-Rose-MonoTV-Probably everyone else: Fate!!!!

And there’s more than I’m probably forgetting because I can’t possibly check every conceivable connection between these guys. At least I hope I covered most of the major ones. Thanks for the ask, these dynamics are always fun to think about!

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #ask #david chiem #teruko tawaki #ace markey #levi fontana #min jeung #arturo giles #veronika grebenshchikova #j rosales #nico hakobyan #charles cuevas #drdt analysis #arei nageishi #rose lacroix #hu jing #xander matthews

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last-sprout · 2 months ago

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Last Sprout Dev Diary - Nov 22, 2024

Hello sprout folks! I'm Valerie, or @oneominousvalbatross, and I've been working on Last Sprout since July, and I'm wildly excited to share some of the things I've been working on with y'all.

Ignore that Twiggs' hat falls off that's natural.

I'm aiming for a Dev Diary once a week on Fridays, and I'm just gonna be giving a brief look into making a game! I'm learning how to do a lot of this stuff live, so I'm sure there'll be a ton of massive rewrites and changes. I have probably a dozen huge systems that are already built that I'm not going to be getting into in this post, since I'm already half a year or so into development, but I'm sure I will find space to include them later!

I spent most of my time figuring out exactly how we wanted to represent XP in the world. We were pretty certain that we wanted XP to exist physically as a substance you picked up, so I started with a system from a previous build.

In that version, we just created a bunch of XP objects and scattered them into the world, then had some code that scooted them around. Of course, that means that we're tracking an individual unity GameObject for every single instance of a point of XP which is, uh, slow.

This is what we call 'suboptimal.'

So obviously we needed to not instantiate an entire transform every time we needed to spawn XP. Even if we re-used objects that would just be prohibitively expensive for an object that really just needs a position.

I'm not going to go over each step in the process, but after experimenting with GPU instancing to just draw a bunch of XP objects at once, eventually I landed on extending Unity's particle system, since it has a lot of the settings I wanted access to.

To make the XP move how I wanted, I wrote a pretty simple process that iterates through all the little blobs and checks how close they are to a designated collector, then uses an exponential decay function (with thanks to Freya Holmér) to make them move towards Twiggs.

I think every game should have an action that can be best summarized by making the noise 'SHWOOOOOP.'

Parrying

Parrying was a good deal simpler, but it still has its issues. Essentially, all a parry needs to be is a hitbox and an animation, with some callbacks to enemies to let them react to the parry. Whenever an attack hitbox intersects with either a Parrybox or a Hurtbox, it checks its tags to see if it's interacting with the appropriate entities, to makes sure enemies aren't hitting or parrying each other constantly. If it passes the test, it calls GetParried() on the intersecting object.

GetParried(), idiot.

For the basic behavior, parrying just interrupts the attack in progress and knocks the enemy back by a set amount, but there's room in the system to add all sorts of neat effects, which I'm sure we'll be taking advantage of in the future. It's been a challenge to juggle the various kinds of hitboxes, but it'll definitely be worth it going forward!

Of course, between all these bits there were a ton of bugfixes and little experiments, but that's a topic for a later dev diary!

#indie game #Dev diary #game dev #Last sprout #Last sprout: a seedling of hope #game development #game dev blog #game dev update #Roguelite #robot #scifi

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weemietime · 4 months ago

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1. there's no such thing as a soul and 2. why does israel specifically need to be where it is now? israel has not even existed for a century. many different people have inhabited the land for thousands of years, mostly arab. is the only argument for the current geographic location of israel a religious argument? why can't it be anywhere else? if it's not a religious argument, why is the land so important if the it was jewish land thousands of years ago? is america justified in its existence despite having killed dozens of millions of native americans? WHY CANT ISRAEL ANYWHERE ELSE IN THE WORLD? WHY IS ISRAEL EXPANDING INTO LEBANON AND WHY IS IT BUILT UPON THE EXPULSION OF HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF PALESTINIANS? Religious arguments should not be taken seriously in the current day. The only other argument i've heard from zionists is one of racial superiority. Zionism boils down to white supremacy and Judaism/Jewish people are completely separate from that. The original zionists claimed to be secular marxists. How can you reconcile these inconsistencies and expect people to not think you're genocidal???

Good l-rd, the Kremlin-Hamas propaganda pipeline workin overtime. *Pats trunk* I can fit so much Nazi gibberish in this bad boy. 1) I don't give a shit that you don't respect my traditions and my beliefs, we already know you have no respect whatsoever. Cool.

2) Israel is where it is now because it is Israel, you deranged fucking lunatic. No, the people who have lived there over the last centuries have NOT been Arabs. There is ZERO archaeological evidence to back up a claim that Palestinian Arabs have been in Israel from the same time as Jews.

3) Point blank, everything you've built up here is a Nazi lie. this is false. A lie. We Jews dig up thousands years old shit from our culture in Israel. Not Arab/Islamic culture. It isn't there. You know your little al aqsa flood operation as Hamas calls it. Arabs built Al Aqsa over our most precious Beit hamikdash. Just for spite by the way. Muhammed hated Jews, ask the Jews of Medina how he handled them. Oh you can't they all got beheaded and enslaved.

Then turn around and call us colonizers when we return street names to their ORIGINAL Hebrew. You're ignorant as fuck of history, "dismantle colonialism" but simps for Hezbollah, the long arm of the IRGC who colonized Iran from the native Persian population. Do you know how many countries Arabs conquered? You don't know shit about the Middle East, keep us out of your fucking mouth.

This is called DARVO and its a tool of colonizers to suppress indigenous history and tradition and overwrite what really happened. And y'all are mad about it because Jews won't let it happen. We won't let you gas light and manipulate us and say see we're the indigenous ones when Arabs were the ones who rolled in and stole our land in the first place.

Arab migrations happened and the Arabs who lived there knowingly lived in stolen land, that is not our fucking problem. I would be content to live in peace with Arabs. I would respect moderate Islam. I would even say sure you can call Israel your homeland even though it's not, whatever.

By the way when Israel declared independence Israelis didn't force Arabs out of their homes. The Arabs all ganged up on Israel and attacked. The Arab league told those people leave your homes, we will kill all the Jews then you can come back. Welp they lost. Tel Aviv wasn't there before 1920s, dipshit. Most of Israel has been build on ceded, legally purchased land.

The amount of private land that was taken from innocent people occurred as insulation from terrorism from a war six other fucking countries started at once. Israel is genocidal huh, Israel has never once fired the first shot in any war its ever been in. Think on that you limp ugly bitch.

We're a community, a family. That's what Judaism is. By the way, that's what the people in those kibbutzim were doing too. They were peace activists, pro Palestinian peace activists, lol. They tricked them for twenty years, multiple generations, being their friends.

But Hamas doesn't want peace and they openly say it over and over and over again to you dumb fucking imbeciles, over and over and over. No peace, no compromise, no ceasefire. They want total annihilation of Israel and Jews world wide. That's their agenda. Don't even fucking come back if you can't acknowledge that this is what they want to do.

Palestinian Arabs can't even pronounce the word Palestine in Arabic lmao. It's not got any Arabic etymology. It was a slur to mock US, THE JEWS, by the romans. Can you pickup a G-d damn history book and read for once in your piss baby life?

#weemie #politics #jumblr #israel #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #palestine #i/p #gaza #ask #zionism

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sanctus-ingenium · 1 year ago

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I’m really inspired by your world building and the creatures you use. I’m trying to kickstart my own world using Celtic, Norse and Scottish myths (it also involves werewolves because they’re cool)

But I’m stumped and a bit overwhelmed. How’d you start your project and what were huge sources of inspiration for you as you worked on The Black Horse?

hi there!!! this will probably get wordy i have a lot of thoughts on this but here's how i built up my inver setting

i had the characters first, and the werewolf establishment was basically the first thing invented about the world. I wrote a decent amount about the characters in the pre-1st draft slush pile just getting a handle on their voices, their history together, etc. the first slush draft was in painstaking chronological order telling of their lives from birth to like age 40 - it wasn't pretty to read but it meant I knew what big moments formed their worldview, their relationships with others, things like that. and then i got to pick and choose which ones would feature in the actual 1st draft, and which i would leave unsaid, in flashback form, or only in the form of vague allusions. the plot and world events changed significantly as i wrote the actual 1st draft so this ended up only being useful for backstory stuff and not book plots, but it was still good to have.

There was an important moment of a character being kidnapped into a faery realm, which is what started me off thinking about fairies in general. they weren't originally a part of this world - it was an undefined space before just for the characters to exist in, because i was (and still am) more interested in the characters than the worldbuilding. but i still like for there to be SOMETHING there in the background, and it gives a lot of opportunities to inform characterisation, so i started to make my setting. I picked the Púca as a pivotal being & major inspiration source to include because of its relatively large presence in the fringes of my childhood in stories told by my older relatives and i like the unusual aspects about it as well, how it has been both heroic and malevolent in different stories. you have to remember i grew up in this culture too, i knew a lot already, and that's what got me thinking of alternate Earth history - as in, the setting of Inver as alternate history, not wholly original fantasy set in a fantasy land.

So then I had to think about the implications of that, and here is where I think a lot of authors adapting extant mythology fall short. A world where faeries/mythological monsters/gods based in real cultures exist and people interact with them is indistinguishable from our own. We already live in a world where people interact with faeries in their own way; I've heard many older relatives recount stories of being trapped in their fields by faeries, how you can only escape by taking off your jumper and putting it back on inside out. There was no question as to whether they believed this was a concrete, meaningful interaction with a supernatural being. We have a motorway that was diverted while it was being built because the builders didn't want to risk cutting down a hawthorn tree. There is a deep stigma against harming hawthorns. Now, tell me how things would be any different if faeries were real irl? ftr I do not believe in the supernatural whatsoever, not even a little bit, but it is impossible to deny that I live in a world deeply shaped by it - I need only look out the window at the stands of whitethorn around my house to know that. because the main expression of that supernatural element is in how the people of that culture react.

you cannot, you cannot pick and choose only the monsters from a legend and leave behind the people who made & propagated that legend. you're only taking a single thread from a rich tapestry. I'm not arguing that other cultures should be untouchable, far from it, I'm just saying that to truly appreciate it, you need context for everything you adapt. you gotta know what you're writing about

in that sense, the people are more important to building Inver than the faeries. a citizen of Inver not immediately affected by the main plotline would likely never see or interact with magic in their lifetime, but their society is still shaped by it. so is mine (though that's more on the catholic church than anything else)

So now that I'd had that realisation, I decided to dump a lot of the traditional fantasy tropes I'd been working with. Think basic fantasy setting stuff, pop culture "The Fae" tropes, even the terminology of 'Fae' at all - that is not something I've ever heard the older generation in my life call them. It's just 'fairies' to them (although I did shift the spelling to match the Yeats poem because I could not handle writing characters making accusations of being A Fairy and have it not come across as a unintentionally homophobic accusation lmao). I did some research; mostly on JSTOR, using my institutional access, because my own university is mostly science and didn't have a big library of anthropological texts. I read An Táin Bó Culainge which is honestly one of the greatest stories of all time PLEASE READ IT if you are at all interested in Irish myth. It is a fantastic story and extremely comedic as well (a canon mmmf foursome lol). In terms of academic sources specific to the Púca, I have a drive folder of pdfs I will share with anyone if they ask.

I decided I was not going to include anything from what people actually think of as pre-christian Irish mythology - no fianna [rangers notwithstanding], no Ulster cycle, no Tuatha Dé, no Irish gods. All the things I include are post-colonial aside from the notion of the Otherworld in general. This decision wasn't necessarily accurate to what might have happened in this alternate history (given that christianity still has no real foothold in Inver) but it is a colonised society after all. It's why I got slightly steamed once when someone filed my Púca art into their irish deities/irish polytheism tag (I have my own issues with iripols/gaelpols for the same reason I dislike people taking myths out cultural context and in this case contemporary cultural context), because the Púca is in fact a postcolonial being - it comes from the UK, and likely the mainland as well

One of the last things I did before starting on my 2nd draft, which is what turned into Said the Black Horse, was decide to always capitalise the word 'Púca'. Because what really clicked from doing my research and remembering what I'd heard as a child was that the Púca is a specific character. Not a species, not a class of monster. A character, one guy. And you'll find this everywhere - the obvious example is the Minotaur being one specific guy, the son of Minos, not just 'a minotaur'. One very funny consequence of speciesifying mythological characters is dnd ppl saying their character is A Firbolg (fir bolg is plural!!). Fantasy bestiary books like Dragonology or Spiderwick Chronicles have done some amount of damage to how people relate to myths and legendary creatures, and I am not immune as someone who loves speculative biology, but in Inver I decided to cut all of that out.

Next once I got that out of the way I had to think about tone, atmosphere, and intended results. I didn't achieve my holy grail of a very atmospheric, undefined, and uncertain story that provides no answers, due to limitations in my own abilities, but I tried. I have given less than 1 second of thought to how magic or faery biology in Inver works because that is not conducive to the atmosphere of a fairytale. Many of these source myths and legends are really about the fear of the unknown. They are rationalisations to explain away something unknown, some mystery of life, and you cannot explain the unexplainable and expect it to carry the same punch as the original myths that you are drawn to adapt. That's also why I try to never actually give facts about fairies, but instead I talk about what people think of them. The word 'considered' does some insanely heavy lifting in that linked post lmao. Is any of what I wrote true with regards to the Red King?? It is for the people who believe it.

I'm saying all of this because these are all points I had to think about before writing that 2nd draft, but also because I think they're worth considering for your own story as well. I'll admit I invented my werewolves from scratch, they have no mythological basis, because they pre-date the faery stuff and also I wanted them to fill a very specific role and appear a little more concrete than the other supernatural elements. It is what it is; I wanted a werewolf element that didn't match myths and legends (and honestly was partially inspired by me rolling my eyes about those posts going around moaning and whining about 'the doggification of werewolves missing the point of werewolf stories'. I thought, well, there's more than one story you can tell with a werewolf - it isn't always 'i fear the beast within', sometimes it's something else! sometimes it's daddy issues! it's okay to make something new)

ok i think that's all i have to say.. modern Inver is a bit different, that worldbuilding is largely the same but with a big dose of actual ecology because the main characters are rangers and in Inver in 2017, rangers mostly do environmental monitoring. and that's a whole different sort of worldbuilding lol

good luck with your story!!

#me about to write literally anything: this will probably get wordy #mvf #setting: inver

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bitchqueenofthebitchsquad · 2 months ago

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Another problem I had with season 2 is the weird way that hextech is treated. The hexcore is treated like it's semi sentient and malicious, no explanation for why that is, but even regular degular Hextech is treated as uniquely capable of great evil. We're given a whole episode that waxes poetic about how much better everyone would be if hextech was never invented but no explanation for why that is.

As others have pointed out, the problems between Piltover and Zaun are the problems inherent to all stratified societies, particularly ones that appear to be in the midst of an industrial revolution. The under city predates Hextech by a long shot. So why are we being shown this episode about how much better everything would be sans these tools? It just has a luddite vibe to it. I think some people mistakenly identify technology as the reason oppression exists. While some tech can exacerbate oppression, the same technology can often do the opposite. I think season 1 was still a little clumsy in places, but it did a better job of pointing out that the technology is a neutral thing. It's the system that allows greedy and ultra powerful but unqualified weirdos to make all the decisions that's a problem.

I feel like the writers who left over the pandemy took their talent with them when they bounced. I can't know this but I get the sense that the remaining writers did little to no research but were enamored with portrayals of class conflict they'd seen in other media. Not to bring up simulacra but, you know, that's what it was giving. It was derivative.

Getting back to the hexcore, I liked the aesthetic of it, particularly how it transformed Viktors body but thematically I think it was incoherent, especially when put in the context of the rest of the show. Again I like spooky purple energy with evil vibes, very witchy, but how does it help progress the narrative? It seemed to me that it was a totally derivative element. Because sometimes magic is portrayed as spooky and seductive they decided to have this cool object that was spooky and seductive. Maybe someone in the writers room was going somewhere with this but if they were I don't think the execution was successful. It doesn't have anything to do with the stronger themes of the show, it distracts from them, and then becomes a problem because they spent so much time foreshadowing it so there's no way to gracefully retcon it.

It's made even more awkward when Viktor uses his new spooky powers to help disabled people who have nowhere else to turn. Before Jayce shoots Viktor in the chest we don't actually see Viktor doing anything malicious with his magic. He's essentially just set up a rehab and is quietly minding his business. The empire and state come to him and give him grief so wouldn't the reasonable conclusion be that actually Hextech is just a tool no matter how purple and swirly it is and that militaries and cops get in the way of positive social change because they seek to abuse and control technology used to help people? But then the show goes on to make Viktor the ultimate villain and it's very hard to parse what the message is other than to avoid the very specific scenarios that happened in the show.

It's almost like they forgot the show was for an audience, forgot about the themes, and just started advertising for the next league project, forgetting to finish what they were actually making. I also think they fell victim to too big of an ending, not everything has to be world ending or contain multiverses. Idk very sloppy but, even though he's essentially an entirely new character, I loved blonde highlights Viktor.

Edit: not "no explanation" it's the blood that made it evil but again this is tropey and leaning towards derivative again. We wouldn't assume that a technology that interacts with blood is bad/evil if we hadn't all already seen a million other works that do this and have built the negative associations for us.

#arcane #arcane critical #arcane season 2 spoilers #viktor arcane #hextech

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fernhoney · 2 months ago

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Hey!! It’s EXHAUSTING to run a small business — but YOU can help!! Yes, YOU!! YOU have the power to make a difference in other people’s lives. In your own community.

Literally the biggest thing to help us small businesses continue to exist is by giving us money. Shop with us.

BUT THAT’S NOT THE ONLY WAY!!

If you can’t afford to do so, tell your friends to shop there. Help us advertise because advertising is a huge amount of labor and requires tons of money. It’s hundreds of dollars, sometimes thousands, just to appear on the radio for a few minutes. We do what we can with the free advertising and promotion through our social media pages, but often that’s not enough. you can still help.

Also, make it a point to STOP shopping through places like Amazon, Walmart, TJ Maxx, the Dollar Store, Etc. I promise, it’s not as hard as it might sound. If you know the name of a business that feels like it exists everywhere (Starbucks, McDonalds, Barnes & Noble, The Home Depot to name a few) that means the money you give to that business is being sent directly away from the community you live in. Sure, some of it is used to pay the employees in the store, but the location exists because it *profits*. Those profits are not being kept in your community, and unless billionaires regularly visit your neighborhood and spend their money, it’s NOT coming back.

By shopping at these businesses, You are mailing money to people who already have more than they could ever need, and in turn, devastating your local economy and breaking the hearts of your friends, family, and neighbors that work tirelessly to offer you their businesses.

One of the smallest things you can do to help is just to VISIT the businesses in your community. My shop has existed for more than two years, on a Main Street, and still there are people that live less than two miles away discovering we exist for the first time. It makes me smile every time. Stop in and say hi!!

When you shop small, you’re building a stronger community and giving more value to your neighborhood. When you shop at the small local business, you’re paying your neighbors— this will allow them to fix that broken down car in their driveway, replace their roof after 12 years, reseal their windows, buy a new weed whacker, replace that refrigerator they’ve had for 28 years to reduce their energy bills, and give their children better lives. We’re not asking for much. We’re not trying to hire people to build rockets for us so we can go to space. We’re asking for food and shelter. We’re asking to replace the heat lamp in the chicken coop and to have just a little more time to sit by the fire in the wood stove and knit a blanket for our loved ones so there can be some sort of long lasting sign that we existed in this world and we actually made something.

I’m in a small town so this might sound a little rural, but the same goes for cities. The destruction of the small town is also true for the small city neighborhood and contributes to urban sprawl. If the city doesn’t have it, the suburbs do, and people commute to find their “big box stores” as we say, which contributes to the traffic that EVERYONE hates. Shop at the places in your neighborhood — the places that are run by your neighbors.

If you want sources: There are books, articles, studies, that you can read on how this impacts local economies. There are documentaries, podcasts, and lectures on how small businesses create our community cultures and how large corporations are the primary cause of wealth inequality across the world. The information is out there. Please go seek it.

I see and hear so often people describing how they feel a lack of community, they feel alone, they feel like they’re losing their culture and sense of self. This is how culture, tradition, community, art, sustainability, TOGETHERNESS, is built. Shop local. Shop small. Make a difference.

#sociology #economy #sustainability #sustainableliving #shop local #shop small #anti capitalism #late stage capitalism #fuck capitalism #i hate capitalism #community service #artists #art #politics #goblincore #goblin culture #small town america #please share

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fedorasaurus · 3 months ago

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DEUS EX SPOILERS

I finally beat the game yesterday! I'm sure you're curious to know what ending I got.

First, let me go over my thoughts about each of the options that were presented (I assume it was only these three):

Morgan's offer -- Spare the base. Join him in leading the world via the Illuminati, which will definitely not be tyrannical.

I don't trust him. Not after seeing what he did to DeBeers (locking him in a cold stasis pod under his house and using him for his knowledge while lying about curing him, taking sole control over the Illuminati in his place). Is that going to be JC's fate, too? Plus, even with JC's compassion, I don't see what good can come of a secret society running the world. Joining the big conspiracy goes against everything JC fought for up to this point. Maybe he can make a change for the better, though?

Tracer's offer -- Destroy the base, activating a massive EMP blast that will disable electronic tech worldwide. Society will be returned to the "dark ages," but from there, everyone will be on equal footing, and we can rebuild to a better, more fair society, where no one government or billionaire can control everyone/everything.

Like JC says, "that sounds overkill." Then again, Tracer's hope and optimism is compelling. It's not that advanced tech would NEVER return, anyway. Now it has the chance to be rebuilt under better circumstances. Maybe this time we can use tech to help people rather than harm them. One thing gives me pause, though: this is a sudden, worldwide change, which most people will not be ready for. A lot of people will be harmed by this at first. Think about it: no hospital equipment, no refrigerators, no phones to contact people in an emergency. I certainly don't know enough about farming to be self-sufficient, nor am I in shape enough for long term physical labor. But, I also think... If forgoing the use of modern technology means, for example, that nukes no longer existed, I think it's worth it.

Helios' offer -- Combine JC with the AI, using his augs and Helios' vast knowledge to control the world.

This sounds scary on the face of it. Trust a machine to handle running the lives of humans? Helios makes a compelling argument, though. It doesn't have ambitions. It's simply programmed to protect people and help the world run smoothly. No emotion or ulterior motives that can be bribed into doing what some wealthy benefactor wants. Though, any fan of System Shock would sweat a little at this, recalling that Shodan was programmed for a similar purpose, and her solution to "protecting people" was to... make it so that there were no more people. Come to think of it, Helios never elaborated on their plan to protect people. A machine built on spy software and internet data, relying on algorithms to make decisions, it's concerning. But combined with JC, maybe it could work. JC would have to do a lot of emotional heavy-lifting, but maybe he can keep the AI in line. We also found out that... people are already kind of okay with Helios opening up the roads and shutting down the criminal organizations. JC does wonder, though, if Helios is trying to learn about people in order to control, not help them.

As a sidenote, Bob sounds like SUCH a jealous lover when he finds out that Helios wants JC and not him. God, hearing the villain lose his shit when he knows he's at a disadvantage is delightful after everything we've endured at his hand. All he can do is sit behind his force field and yell at us. You got got, Bob!

Alright, so, what choice did I make for my first playthrough?

---

Deus Ex handles the endings in an interesting way. There's no obvious "GOOD" or "BAD" ending. Each option has positive and negative consequences, and it's up to the player to decide, based on what they learned and discovered throughout the game, what feels right to them. Even Paul trusts JC to follow his heart, supporting him whatever he chooses (god, I love Paul 😭).

Part of my decision also came from just having a difficult time navigating the Area 51 base. Other folks in Chat had similar experiences, so I'm glad I'm not alone there, but it got to a point where I was mulling two choices around in my mind but ended up committing to one because there was no way I'd be able to find my way back if I changed my mind again (yes, the game gives you maps, but even in real life I struggle without a point of reference of my current location 💀).

Plus, Helios was weirdly pushy. "Yes, you will do this," "You will go there, do that." It was uncomfortable, kind of bossy. JC had an option, but Helios still acted like it was bent on controlling things. Maybe I can chalk it up to the language processing of a machine, though.

The ending I picked on this run, you can probably guess, was the New Dark Age ending. Tracer's hope is something I can really vibe with. His, "Come find us, JC!" got me really emotional, in fact. The game doesn't explicitly show JC escaping and reuniting with his friends, but I believe he does. Something made me second-guess my choice, though: the animals and workers who are still alive on the base. The mechanic who tries desperately to stop JC when he presses the three buttons to start the reaction. I really hope they all had enough time to evacuate. I'm okay sacrificing my own life to save everyone, but taking others down with me feels terrible. It's left ambiguous, though. In fact, the ending only shows JC running from the facility while it crumbles. Did we make the right choice, in the end? Is society going to be okay? It isn't shown. I like that, though. Let the player imagine how the future plays out. We weighed the options and followed our heart, and really, that's all anyone can do.

I believe it all worked out.

I'll get the other endings next week and see if any of them feel more "right," and then we'll see how Invisible War handles the continuation of the story (one thing's for sure: Alex Denton must have escaped somehow 👀)!

#phenominal game #Deus Ex #spoilers #DX Spoilers #thoughts #not many games make me think like this one did #well done Eidos and Ion Storm!#fantastic work

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bleue-flora · 7 months ago

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why do people think cdream was obsessed with ctommy like i read stellos analysis on it and its well written and nice but they fail to take into account that cdream has a persona and 90 percent of the time is not telling the truth

Ummm well many reasons actually. Ones I’ve talked about a bit before, but basically I think it actually comes down to Tommy himself for a few reasons.

a) Firstly, I think because Tommy believes it, it’s hard for us not to believe it. In other words, by watching his stream, being in his head, that perception is ingrained into the lore itself so we are more inclined to believe it, simply because the character we are watching through does. This is true not just for Tommy but other characters as well and it makes sense, we are seeing things for the first time through their eyes - how could it not taint our view? This is also not helped by the fact that Dream leans into Tommy’s expectations. In multiple scenes we see him bring to life Tommy’s world view, giving him and us more inclination to take it at face value. Like Dream becomes who Tommy thinks he is so it makes it really convincing from Tommy’s head to believe it.

b) Secondly, in many ways Dream is obsessed with Tommy. Sure not in the way Tommy thinks - like him constantly trying to kill him and take his discs and yada yada… but he tears up Tommy’s whole yard for Tommy’s discs, he fights wars for the discs against Tommy, and in some ways that is Tommy obsessing over Dream forcing Dream to engage. The problem I think is not so much that Dream is really obsessed with Tommy but that he’s obsessed with keeping his “big happy family” and Tommy continues to threaten that and be the center of chaos and conflict, there by making him a priority for Dream. And it doesn’t help that Tommy is also the very center of Dream’s hurt, and beginning and end of his downfall.

c) Lastly, and I think probably most notably, I kinda touched upon this already, but because Tommy is obsessed with Dream, he forces Dream to constantly be involved with him, making it look like a focus/obsession/priority when Dream really may be just trying to defend himself, defend his friends, get back his stuff… etc. Dream can’t not be involved with Tommy because just like the finale Tommy inserts himself right at Dream’s throat again.

So is Dream obsessed with Tommy? Or is he obsessed with getting to live his life, something Tommy continues to make impossible?

And yea the fact alone that Spirit, Mars, and Bekerson existed before Tommy and that Dream built a prison but plans on putting Skeppy in a little cage, should be enough to highlight that Dream is talking nonsense in the disc confrontation about Tommy being the key and him needing Tommy alive and yada yada… like it should be enough to showcase that maybe he isn’t really obsessed with Tommy like he depicts. But perhaps it’s much easier to believe that narrative than the one that Dream is actually a relatively sane person who’s just lying (like he’s accused to be lol - “All you do is lie, Dream…”). It’s a less messy reality then the what ifs and considerations and dissecting needed to find the actual truth. And who doesn’t want to just do the things that are easier?…

#welp hopefully that makes sense…. it’s late and my brain is dead.#also not entirely sure what analysis you are referring to tbh #here me out: Dream is obsessed with living - and Tommy is just constantly trying to attack him…. just saying (besides Pogtopia era obviousl #dsmp #c!dream #dreblr #dream smp #dsmpblr #dsmp analysis #no one does it like c!dream #hello there #did someone order an essay?#c!dream and c!tommy #c!tommyinnit #c!tommy #c!discduo #look I mean though it’s hard to blame people for believing Dream when all the characters do ya know…

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rimanne · 1 month ago

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well this recent stuff messed me up a bit, even if i'm not a akatsukiP. i normally wouldn't do this kind of thing but enstars is a really beloved series to me and i wanted to share my experience with it and vent a little

so yeah corny stuff after read more

I've always loved rhythm games, since my childhood playing rhythm heaven. In fact, it's the only type of game, besides visual novels, i can say i'm sort of good at lol

And some years ago i used to play love live and utapri-shining live a lot. If i remember correctly both of them had gacha elements and story modes but i didn't really care about it, because my english was really bad at the time AND all i cared about was to play silly anime songs on my phone.

I wasn't really sad after both of these games ended their services. I was left bittersweet, yes, but nothing that impacted me that much. So i was left wondering if there were other games similar to those i've played.

I tried bandori, project sekai, d4dj, but none of them really stuck with me, maybe because i'm a thumb player and the layout was really hard for me to adapt to. And then, almost 4 years ago, i saw enstars in pre-registration. It apparently had a similar layout to what i was used to, so i figured "i might like this! i'm gonna give it a try!"

And it didn't take me long to fall head over heels for this series. I love absurdism, so the crazy lore behind the silly idol game really pulled me in. And i did get used to the gameplay style, i felt nostalgic of the games i used to play before and i felt like i struck gold for finding enstars.

I can't exactly point out what makes enstars special to me, compared to the other games i've played, i never felt such a deep connection to a game before.

Regarding the story, as i said before, it really left me interested to learn more about the world and the characters. The way the plot point was over the top and insane, along with the characters who are crazy too, it was as if it was built in for me to obsess over lol

But of course, the problem was always there. Honestly the way aira treated hiiro left me so uncomfortable at times, especially within the story, where it makes it seen hiiro as a stupid kid who knows nothing about anything.

Adonis' case is really complicated for me, because, as a black woman who grew up watching cartoons and anime with little to no black characters, i just got used to, in lack of better words, "be grateful for what i have".

And adonis being the only foreigner in a cast of yamato japanese people made me sympathize with him. "Oh, so he is viewed as a violent foreigner who's obsessed with meat, but he is just a softie? Well, i'll take what i can get".

And i genuinely thought that "maybe they're making a criticism on racist views or something". But really, adonis has existed for 10 years, i've been a fan for almost 4, and to this day we don't know what country he is from.

Not to mention what they've been doing with their neurodivergent characters lately! Sora lost his synesthesia somehow, and apparently shu got "cured"?? Mademoiselle doesn't appear anymore??

This new stuff with ibuki was my last straw, because it felt like happyele spent years punching us, then suddenly they switch to hitting us with bazookas with their blatant disrespect for their characters, their fans, everything!!!

I really can't bring myself to enjoy playing it anymore, but i'll still be in the fandom, i'll still have so much care for the characters, i'll still listen to the songs i already like, because they're mine now. And happyele can try to pry them away from my cold dead hands!!!

Anyway

#i feel silly for being “upset” over this stuff #but idk #this left me tired #i need a huuuge nap for sure #enstars #ensemble stars

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lilyevanstan1325 · 11 months ago

Text

❤️ Built For This World ❤️

Chapter 12

The sun slowly lowers behind the hills, painting the sky in shades of gold and orange.

After Rick's heartbreaking words for Amy, I took refuge in a corner of the farm, away from curious eyes and the dangers that lurk outside.

My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, and the setting sun only seems to amplify them.

Amy's death.

The memory of the young girl, with her wide eyes and pale face, haunts me.

She has seen too much, she has experienced too little.

I continually wonder what could have happened, what brought that walker so close to all of us.

And now I only feel fear, a fear that tightens my heart.

The fear of protecting.

It's a mixed feeling.

On one hand, I want to keep the people I love safe, but on the other, I know that every protective gesture carries a risk.

Amy's death is proof of this.

We tried to protect ourselves, all of us, relentlessly.

Nevertheless.

And then there's him in my thoughts.

Always.

As much as I want to ignore it, he is there.

Negan.

The man I loved and hated equally.

Before the apocalypse, he had been a different man.

He was good, sweet.

Now, he isn't anymore.

His soul has become darker, wilder.

I often wonder if deep down in his heart he is still him, if that sweet and altruistic man still exists, or if the horror of the world has simply transformed him.

Or maybe it transformed us both.

And then there was the pain.

The pain is always there.

The pain is linked to his name.

The pain is linked to his scent.

The pain is linked to his raspy voice.

The pain of having to run away from him, leaving him behind.

I had hoped that time and distance would dull that pain, but every night when I close my eyes, I still feel it.

I hear his voice.

I feel his caresses.

I still feel my love for him.

Every time it's like a fucking knife in my heart.

I hug my knees to my chest, looking blankly at the foliage of the trees moved by the wind, I watch the sun disappear completely behind the hills.

I know I still have a lot to face, but right now, I just want to let go of sadness and nostalgia.

The world has changed, and I with it.

I don't know if it's good or bad but I know I'm no longer the person I was.

Everything has changed in me, even the way I perceive the world.

I can no longer see its beauty.

Now every corner is covered in dark shadows, shadows that hide threats.

Nothing seems purer to me.

I would just like to go back and see the beauty.

That's all I ask.

Light footsteps behind me distract me from my thoughts.

I look over my shoulder and with his head down I see Carl come towards me.

“Hey, buddy.What's up?What are you doing, wandering around by yourself?It's starting to get dark, it's not safe” I ask trying to hide the tremor in my voice.

I lower my legs, crossing them and tapping my hand on the ground next to me, I invite the boy to keep me company.

Carl sits next to me and we are silent for a few minutes.

Small points of light begin to appear in the sky.

Another night in this broken world.

Carl sighs as he hugs his knees to his chest.

I give him a slight shove trying to catch his gaze with mine.

“Hey!You know you can talk to me” I whisper, focusing my attention on his small sad face.

I saw how he cried during Amy's funeral, he must be really upset.

His young mind, still too immature, is finding itself fighting against demons bigger than him.

No human being, let alone a child, should ever find themselves entangled in this shit.

“If… if I told you a secret could you promise not to tell my parents?”

Instinctively I would like to accept his plea but I know I can't.

His eyes, blue as the sea, focus on mine and he already knows that I won't be able to keep this promise.

The boy immediately lowers his gaze.

I dig in my mind looking for the most suitable words.

I raise my hand, bringing it to his head and taking off his father's hat.

I turning it between my fingers for a few seconds and then placing it on my head.

Carl looks at me and lets out a soft laugh.

I smile with him.

“I can't promise you but I can promise I'll help you, okay?”

My compromise seems to convince him.

He puts his hand in his pocket and after a few moments he takes out a gun which he hands to me with a trembling hand.

“I took it from Daryl's motorcycle.If he found out I took it, he'll kill me”

I turn the gun in my hands, returning my gaze to the boy.

“What are you doing with this?” I ask him trying to keep a calm tone.

I don't want to scare him or even scold him.

I just want to understand why he did it.

His behavior has been strange lately.

I saw very little of the sweet and kind little boy I was told about.

Instead, I saw a boy incite his father to kill another human being.

A boy who stole a gun for what reason only God knows.

“Amy” he whispers looking straight ahead, “It's my fault that she died”

For a moment I don't know what to answer.

Thousands of thoughts and scenarios chase each other in my mind but none of them guide me towards a plausible solution.

“Carl” I murmur, squeezing his shoulder with my hand, “Why would you say that, buddy.She got bit by a walker.Why you say…”

“I saw that walker” he interrupts me.

His eyes clouded by tears move from his hands towards the sky.

A single tear rolls down his face.

My heart breaks at his pain.

“I was gonna shoot it.It was stuck in the mud.I was…I was throwing rocks at it and stuff ” the boy sniffs, his eyes still turned to the sky, “But I was gonna do it…shoot it right in the head.And it…it got free, came after me and…I ran away” Carl sobs.

A little sob that rumbles in my head like thunder.

I wrap my arm around his slender shoulders, pressing my lips to the top of his head.

“If I had killed it, Amy would still be here” he adds, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

I drop the gun onto the grass next to me so I can hold this little man against my chest.

His tears wet my shirt but I couldn't care less.

Now my priority is his well-being.

“Carl, stop that.Please.This ain't your fault, okay?”

His arms close delicately around my hips while his back shakes with small jolts.

My right hand presses the back of his neck while the other slides delicately along his back, small caresses in an attempt to soothe his pain.

I let him vent everything he's been holding painfully inside trying to make him understand that I'm here for him.

I move away from the hug just enough to be able to look him in the eyes.

I hold his face between my hands and with the tips of my thumbs I dry the tears that continue to flow relentlessly from his sweet red eyes.

“Listen to me Carl.As long as I'm around, I always protect you.Me, your father, your mother and everyone else will always protect you.What happened is not your fault.It could have happened to anyone and I swear to you, I swear to God, that I would have given my soul to be in your place, to not see you like this now”

His lower lip trembles and new tears slide down his face, still so young and innocent.

I stand up offering him a hand inviting him to stand up too.

He gets up hesitantly.

His eyes full of remorse and fear watch me as I bend down to pick up Daryl's gun and tuck it into the waistband of my jeans.

“I'll take care of this” I reassure him, giving him back his father's hat, “Don't worry about Daryl, I promise he won't tell you anything”

Carl smiles shyly but his smile fades as soon as he notices my serious look.

“And...I won't say anything to your mom but I will talk to Rick.Maybe I could convince him to teach you how to use it so that you can protect yourself if you were in danger and none of us were there with you”

At my words Carl takes a few steps back.

He shakes his head violently from side to side.

“I will never touch a gun again”

“You know this is not possible.As much as we all want to, we can't do it.We can't hide forever, Carl.We have to fight.You have to learn to fight.The world has changed and if we don't change with it...”

But the boy seems determined and, shaking his head again, he turns his back on me and walks away, leaving me perplexed.

I don't even try to stop him.

At this moment a storm beyond my understanding is stirring in his heart and it is not up to me to help him so with a heart full of worries I go in search of Rick.

Along my way, however, I spot Daryl.

He is sitting in front of a small fire, near what has now become our tent, while he smokes a cigarette.

I approach coming up behind him, surprised that he didn't hear me.

His hunter's hearing is always alert but at this moment his mind seems not to be there.

The surprise in my eyes is replaced by horror as I see him press the flaming tip of his cigarette into the flesh of his hand.

A barely audible hiss escapes his lips.

My eyes immediately fill with tears as my hand in a completely automatic gesture moves up my thigh, caressing the flesh through the hard fabric of my jeans.

I know what he's doing.

I know what he's feeling.

With extreme delicacy I place a hand on his shoulder.

The archer flinches violently.

The now consumed cigarette slips from his fingers.

Without speaking I stand in front of him and offer him my hand.

The man observes it for a few moments then his eyes lift up to find mine only for a moment then his gaze shift to the fire and in their reflection I can read the shame he feels at having been caught in a moment of weakness.

I try to impress in my gaze all the tenderness and all the understanding that I can find in my torn heart.

Daryl looks up again.

“I don't wan’ yer pity” he spits between his teeth.

I smile sadly.

It's not my pity I'm offering him and I want him to understand that.

“Take my hand, big boy” I murmur softly.

The tremble in my voice makes him look at my hand that is still outstretched and motionless in front of him.

After moments in which he doesn't stop studying my gaze he grabs my hand and lets himself be dragged away from the fire.

In the silence of the evening I drag him towards the tent, inviting him with my gaze to enter.

“Sit down, please”

The man obeys me as if in this moment he was devoid of any will.

Trusting me blindly.

And this does nothing but fill my heart with a sweet, almost forgotten feeling.

Trying to tame the nervousness that grips my guts, I grab the lamp and lit it on, positioning it near my feet so that it can illuminate my figure well.

I feel sweat beading on my forehead and with trembling hands I reach for the button on my jeans, open it and pull down the zip.

Daryl looks at me with panic in his eyes.

His pupils move quickly from one side of the tent to the other as he slides away from me, pressing his back against the wall of the tent behind him.

I sigh deeply, gathering all the courage I have and with a fluid and decisive movement I lower my jeans to my ankles.

The archer, taken aback by my gesture, turns his head to the side, bringing a hand in front of his face.

I can see the blush spreading from his neck.

“Wha’ the hell are ya doing, woman?” he hisses through his teeth.

His tense shoulders tell me that the man is very uncomfortable but that can't stop me.

It can't stop me.

He must know.

He has to understand that I can understand him.

That I know what he was doing and why.

“Daryl” I call him softly, “Please look at me”

My plea veiled with barely held back tears makes him move his large hand from his face.

His embarrassed cheeks are a stab to my heart.

Behind his tough exterior there is a shy man full of insecurities.

Slowly the archer's eyes reopen and with equally exhausting slowness they rest on my face.

“Look at me” I repeat, lowering my hand towards my thighs.

The tip of my finger instantly feels the unevenness of the skin beneath it sending a jolt of pain to my heart.

The memory is alive again.

His gaze follows my hand and the moment his eyes fall on my bare legs his expression changes.

Now he knows.

And I have never felt so naked in my life.

But this isn't physical nudity…

Daryl is seeing my soul.

My true soul.

He is seeing a part of me that no one knows.

Nobody.

His uncertain and cautious hand rests on my thigh.

His calloused fingers move feather-light over the old scars.

Lots of little cuts that adorn my skin like stars adorn the night sky.

I stare at the tent ceiling unable to hold his gaze as the words float painfully from my lips.

“I had no other way to vent my pain.I didn't want others to see my pain.This was the only part of my body that no one could ever see”

When the nights at the Sanctuary seemed endless and the pain was too excruciating, it seemed like the only possible solution.

Sitting on my bed, with my father's knife in my hands, I cut into the flesh of my thighs.

Every cut eased the pressure on my heart.

Every cut expanded my lungs as I felt suffocated.

Every cut made me feel alive.

Every cut silenced the voices screaming in my head.

The man's strong hands grip the flesh behind my thighs, just under the curve of my ass, his face buried between them.

But as intimate as it may seem, there is nothing sexual in his gesture.

Only sweetness and pain.

His lips touch every little scar starting from my knee to my right hip, near the elastic of my underwear.

I dig my hands into his hair, in that portion of skin the contact of his lips makes me hiss in pain.

The skin is still red there.

“This is the last one.I did it after I have killed that man down town” I admit, full of shame.

It had been a while since the last time.

But the desperation for my action brought me back to falling into my old and unhealthy habits.

Daryl grabs my jeans and gently lifts them up by buttoning them and zipping them up, then standing up he crushes me in his arms.

I bury my face in his chest cradling myself in his strong grip.

His scent soothing my soul.

“I know what you're feeling.I won't pretend to believe that thanks to me you won't do it again...but...but...I want you to know that I'm here with you.I'm here for you.I always have your back, big boy”

He hugs me even more forcefully.

His face is pressed against my neck, my hair is a dark curtain in which he hides his gaze which I know for a fact is as anguished as mine the moment I saw that cigarette sizzle against the flesh of his hand.

With a disarming delicacy his hands wrap themselves in a strong but gentle grip around my cheeks and immediately my lips are on his.

I don't know if it's the right thing to do but I know for a fact that words would be superfluous at this moment.

Gently we slide towards the ground.

His lips kiss every part of my face.

Reserving reverential attention to my lips.

His tongue slides velvety between my lips, colliding with mine, intertwining in a sensual dance, which smells of tobacco, which in its silence keeps solemn promises.

I am here.

You are here.

I'm your.

I'm yours.

Together we can.

My hands move to the back of his neck, scratching his skin.

His bold fingers grip the flesh of my hips, inviting me, with the weight of his powerful body, to lie beneath him.

In its will, my legs widen, allowing his narrow and sensual hips to find space between them and then wrap around his waist, pressing my ankles against his buttocks and involuntarily pushing him towards my pulsating core.

The contact of his bulge against my most sensitive part makes me pant in ecstasy and the man full of new audacity pushes his hips against mine again, earning another obscene moan from me.

His warm, sinful lips slide towards my collarbone as he tries to move the fabric covering my breasts with his hungry teeth.

His greed makes me chuckle and, helping him in his intent, I grab the hem of my shirt, pulling it off my head, remaining in front of his eyes with only a simple black bra.

The worn fabric makes me blush thinking about how I am not such a sensual sight in the end but his words erase all my worries.

“So beautiful, ’ma sunshine” burying his face in the hollow between my breasts, his words sound almost like a growl.

He peppers my skin with sloppy kisses while his fingers creep under my back, arched with pleasure, searching for the hook of my bra.

As soon as he finds it he tugs on it trying to unhook it and when he succeeds a guttural sound scrapes his throat making me roll my eyes in ecstasy.

Always with the help of his teeth he lowers one strap and then the other without ever stopping kissing every new corner of exposed skin.

With a trembling hand, between anxiety and pleasure, I grab the bra and throw it behind me.

The look of wonder in Daryl's eyes sets me on fire.

And I swear I could cum here and now just because of the way his gaze burns on my skin.

I lift my hips looking for friction that will give me relief, trembling at the moment of the contact.

He envelops a breast in his large rough hand, massaging it delicately while he welcomes the turgid nipple between his wet and lustful lips.

His tongue swirls around it sending jolts of pure pleasure through every nerve endings in my body.

The moans rolling from my lips are now uncontrollable.

Unstoppable.

My hands move aimlessly as they wander along his broad back, curious fingers exploring unfamiliar skin that slowly find their way beneath the shirt that envelops that solid yet supple body.

Insecure but eager, I push the vest off his shoulders which slowly sags over my shirt which lies next to us.

But I feel like it's still not enough.

I want to feel the sensation of my skin against his.

With inexperienced fingers I undo the first button which slips unhindered from his buttonhole.

And I continue until my fingers graze the metal of his buckle's belt.

Daryl's mouth releases my nipple with a loud, wet pop, a long string of saliva stretching until it slides down his chin.

Raising my shoulders I push my face towards him, licking his neck, starting from the Adam's apple that bobs up and down as I pass, until I reach his chin, collecting the saliva that lies on it with a moan of sweet appreciation.

Daryl's lips capture mine again in a panting, lust-filled kiss.

Stroking the skin of his neck I can feel every vein under my fingers, veins where the blood pumps furiously.

My hands continue their way until they reach his shoulders.

When I try to slide his shirt along them the man stiffens, breaking the kiss.

His pupils are so dilated with pleasure that they almost completely swallow the blue but in all that chaos I can sense his panic.

“Hey” I whisper bringing my hands to his face again, gently caressing his tense features, “We can stop whenever you want” I whisper trying to regulate my breathing.

The archer seems conflicted.

In his eyes, in the hard lines of his jaw, something stirs.

“No.No.I just…” he murmurs almost embarrassed, “I want to take it” he whispers, shrugging his shoulders and putting the shirt back to cover them.

His request, which sounds like a small plea, shocks me but I accept it knowing that I could never do anything that could embarrass him.

I want Daryl to feel comfortable with me and I would never force him to do anything that would disturb his precarious balance.

“Alright.That's ok, babe” I smile sweetly kissing his forehead as I close a couple of buttons on his shirt covering his body.

Daryl nods once and then he kisses me again.

This time his lips are more delicate.

After exploring every cavity of my mouth he continues his way along the line of my jaw, moving down towards my neck and sucking forcefully on the delicate skin behind my ear.

“Daryl” I gasp, burying my hands in his hair.

In response he continues his sensual descent, kissing the incandescent skin of my body, in a long trail of lust that reaches my navel with unnerving slowness.

One last delicate kiss and then his eyes are back in mine, silently asking me for permission to go further.

And I cannot deny him that permission.

I nod, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip and lifting my hips to facilitate his movements.

Daryl, with a concentrated look, unbutton my jeans, sliding them down my legs.

His lips touch every millimeter of exposed skin.

His gestures are shy, full of exasperating sweetness.

I clumsily kick off my boots so he can completely slide off the jeans.

My chest rises and falls furiously as Daryl remains kneeling by my feet, completely still, staring at me.

I feel like my heart might explode in my chest.

The man I have in front of my eyes seems like a god painted by the most skilled of artists.

The dim light of the lamp creates seductive shadows on his face.

A few small scars cross it but my gaze is drawn inexorably towards the bulge in his pants.

His shaft presses angrily against the fabric of his jeans and my mouth salivates at the thought of having it inside me.

To be able to feel him.

Daryl reaching down grabs my ankle, lifting it and bringing it to his lips, leaving a delicate kiss on it.

His lips greedily travel up the calf until they reach the thigh where he dedicates all his attention to kissing every single scar.

His tongue explores everything that can be explored.

He lowers himself onto my body again, accompanying my leg with his hand and wrapping it around his hips.

And I let myself be manhandled.

His elbows rest on either side of my face as he nuzzles the tip of his nose against mine and then kisses my forehead.

“I have no idea wha’ the hell I'm doing, sunshine” he whispers, his embarrassed eyes in mine.

His hands gently move a few strands of hair away from my face.

And despite the excitement of the moment I can't help but smile sweetly at the man in front of me.

A man so strong and brave yet so lost.

“You're perfect, Daryl” I whisper, kissing him again.

With much more audacity I grab one of his hands, kissing the tip of each fingertips and then capture two of them between my lips, swirling my tongue around them.

He moans, a hollow, guttural sound rising from deep in his chest, his hips pressing into me again.

A shiver shakes him.

Now, free from my jeans, the friction of his shaft on my fold, still covered by the now soaked fabric of my panties is even more real.

Through his jeans I can perceive all of him…

And damn!

He looks so big.

With my eyes and mind in ecstasy I release his fingers from my lips and decisively guide his hand lower and lower, beyond the hem of my panties.

His hand is so warm...and so big that his palm can wrap my entire mound.

His digit slides along my wet fold and then it splits me open wetting in my arousals.

I cry out his name.

He grunts and slowly sinks his finger into me.

Moving slowly, almost fearfully, his thumb finds my clit and begins to caress it with small circular movements.

In response my hips lift to meet his too gentle movements, seeking something more.

Daryl grunts again, taking hold of my mouth and kissing me like his life depends on it.

“More, babe.Please more” I whine against his lips, rocking my hips.

The archer adds another finger, digging them both to the knuckles.

This time with more force.

His thumb moves more firmly against my little bundle of nerves, making me see little stars of white light behind my closed eyelids.

Daryl buries his face in the crook of my neck, almost roaring as his fingers pound into me forcefully, curving up and touching that magical spongy spot that can make my toes curl.

The leg around his waist tightens its grip, pressing the heel forcefully against his lower back while the other, which until a few seconds ago was resting on the hard ground, now lifts slightly in a spasm of pleasure.

I plant the sole of my foot on the ground to find a foothold to meet the almost furious push of the man's fingers which now work with precision and lust.

My fingers wrap around the wild, messy strands of his hair, pulling them forcefully from the root, his teeth sinking into the delicate skin of my neck.

Daryl is marking my skin mercilessly and the thought of the others seeing how much I belong to him pushes me even further towards the edge.

I try to stifle the scream of pleasure that erupts from my lips by burying my face in his hair.

“Please don't stop.Please.Right there, Daryl”

He lifts up, his stormy gaze passes along my face now distorted by pleasure, then moving to my breasts which continue to bounce with each thrust of his fingers and then finally stopping on my pussy.

His dilated pupils move quickly following the movement of his hand, watching as his fingers disappear inside me with each thrust, stealing one moan at a time until my throat is parched.

A pleasant sensation spreads in my lower abdomen, clouding all my logical thoughts.

My eyes roll inside my skull, closing again in a fog of pure enjoyment.

“Look at me, sunshine”

In that thick fog his voice brings me back to the surface and my eyes slowly open on his powerful figure.

The muscles of his abdomen contract as if spasms of pleasure were tearing at his very body.

His biceps swell with every movement as he furiously pumps his fingers into me.

A spark shines in his gaze and after a few moments his broad shoulders lower towards my core.

A light-as-air hand moves my panties to the side and the rustic, calloused touch of his thumb on my clit is replaced by something warmer.

More delicate.

His tongue.

The scream that rolls off my lips is impossible to stop.

“Oh fuck, babe” I moan loudly, digging my fingers into the sleeping bag beneath my body.

The archer's tongue moves divinely as if this man had done nothing else all his life.

Delicate and moist caresses that take me over the edge.

His velvety muscle moves on my clit as if he were writing his name adorning it with lustful squiggles.

And suddenly it's all too much.

His face buried between my thighs.

His fingers moving mercilessly inside me, pushing and arching, splitting me open.

Daryl eats me out like I'm the last meal of his life.

He is hungry.

Feral.

Hot, fucking hot.

My nails digging into the back of his neck pushing his face against my cunt, his skull crushed between the sweaty flesh of my thighs.

“Ya taste so fuckin’ good, sunshine”

His grunt reverberates through my body, plunging me into the abyss of pleasure.

A white heat explodes before my eyes...and the most overwhelming orgasm of my life envelops my body making me moan loudly, so loudly that Daryl lifts himself from the center of my thighs to calm my moans with his own lips.

His tongue deep in my mouth, making me savor my own pleasure, thus prolonging the last spasms of my climax and accompanying my trembling body back to reality.

Still panting and shocked, I find the strength to reopen my eyes, observing the statuesque body of the archer rise from his position only to lie down on my sweaty body.

His lips rest lightly on my breast, moving up my neck and then taking possession of my lips again.

I can feel his excitement.

A single thought echoes in my mind.

It's not enough, I want more.

The kiss becomes more and more heated.

My hands slide down his sides and then grip the buckle of his belt tightly.

“I need you” I pant against his jugular.

He groans in my hear, giving me goosebumps.

His hands reach mine, helping me to free him from the last obstacle that now separates our bodies.

Daryl puts the weight of his body on his arm so he can use his free hand to take off his jeans completely and I take the opportunity to take off my panties.

His lips find my neck, sucking on the skin and leaving yet another hickey.

The only sound in the tent is our strangled breathing.

Another moan slips from my lips as the archer positions his now naked body on top of mine.

His thick cock caresses my inner thighs and my body vibrates in anticipation.

Daryl hums against my skin.

I wrap my legs in a chokehold around his waist, my hands gripping his back finding purchase in his shirt.

I crush it between my fingers as yet another plea rolls from my lips.

“I want you, Daryl.I need you” I cry, my body shaking with pleasure.

He lets one arm slide under my head, like a pillow, while the other slides under my back, lifting me slightly.

Now the tip of his cock touches my labia and his hips slowly push towards mine.

Inches after inches his fat cock slips inside my cunt, the stretching is painfully pleasurable.

I moan, closing my eyes and pushing my head back against his hand.

He is so big I can feel my walls molding around him.

His breathing intensifies as he pushes towards me and when he bottoms out his body lowers, lying completely on mine.

I spread my legs even further to make room for him, the pain between them is palpable but the desire I have for this man manages to make me concentrate on other feelings.

The feeling of being split open by the man I love erases any pain, any discomfort.

The feeling of his heat on my bare skin.

The feeling of his warm breath on my neck.

Feeling him immersed in my body, fused together, makes my heartbeat faster between my legs.

Daryl remains still, his face buried in my neck and his shaky breath crashing against my ear.

I push my hips forward eager for him to start moving but Daryl remains still.

He seems almost paralyzed.

His back tense, the muscles in his arms contracted tightly.

Instantly all the neurons in my brain go on alert trying to figure out what's wrong.

The man's breathing becomes increasingly heavier while small spasms shake his back.

“Daryl?Everything is fine?" I breathe close to his ear.

In response he nods his head but continues to remain perfectly still.

I squirm beneath him, trying as hard as I can to catch his gaze but immediately after the hand that wraps around my back squeezes my flesh tightly.

Almost painfully.

“Could ya…could ya please stay still?” he exhales between clenched teeth.

Immediately my body freezes, my mind working quickly to make sense of his request.

“What…”

“’M fuckin’ trying to not cum like a fuckin’ teen” he interrupts me, lifting his head and pointing his wonderful blue eyes into mine.

His wild and disheveled hair, from how many times I've run my hands through it, falls messy and disheveled onto his face.

And I know I shouldn't, that I might offend him, but the laughter ringing in my chest leaves my lips before I can do anything to stop it.

My legs slip from his waist and wrap around his muscular thighs.

And no matter how hard Daryl tries to sulk, I see a little of that worry slipping from his eyes as one corner of his lips lifts, giving me that little amused grin that can make my heart stop.

With our bodies still intertwined and his masculinity buried in my body we find ourselves laughing.

Daryl brings both arms to the sides of my head, leaning on his elbows so his hands are free to caress my face.

My arms remain wrapped around his neck, my fingertips lazily stroking the hair that brushes the back of his neck.

And it is at this moment, in this very moment that everything makes sense.

The pain.

The fear.

The tears.

In the enveloping warmth of his embrace I feel the world slow down.

My hands tightening around my most precious treasure, every inch of skin against skin is a step towards a better life.

A life with fewer fears but many more hopes.

There is no need for words, my heart in sync with his speaks an older and deeper language.

It's as if time stands still, and all that matters is this moment.

My mind free from worries.

The outside world and its problems vanish.

He is my refuge, the safe harbor in which I can anchor myself.

The safe harbor that I am sure will protect me from every storm.

The peace I feel is like the silence of a windless night.

There are no storms, only calm and fears dissolve, and breathing becomes regular.

He is my shield against the chaos of the world out there.

The protection he offers me is like an impassable wall.

There is nothing that can hurt me while I am in his arms.

He is my warrior, ready to defend me from any threat.

He was built for this world.

And the joy?

Oh man, the joy.

It's like a love song in my chest.

Every heartbeat is a melody, and he is the only one who can play it.

I know this is my place, my destiny.

At this moment everything is perfect.

So, without the need for words, he holds me close to him.

And in his embrace, I find everything I have always looked for...deep love, without boundaries, without end.

The love that now shines in my eyes and presses against my lips, the words prisoner in my head...words too mature for a love that is still so immature.

Words too strong for a man still too weak for this too strong, devastating feeling of mine.

Deafening words that scream in my head, words that I swallow and put them in the depths of my soul.

Words that perhaps will never see the light of day but those words will always be intrinsic in my every gesture, in every caress, in every kiss.

In every embrace.

“That's ok, big boy.Take your time” I whisper against his lips curved in a sweet smile.

Smile that I treasure.

Smile that fills me with pride because I'm the only one who can have it.

A smile that I will jealously guard in my heart, imprinting it in the eyes of my memory.

Daryl kisses me and his hips move.

Slowly.

Gently.

By now the light in the lamp has stopped burning and the tent is shrouded in darkness, only the moonlight entering through the small cracks illuminates our bodies with silvery light.

The breaths intertwine, and my heart beats like the wings of a frightened bird.

There are just the two of us, two souls who have come closer with fear and desire.

His skin against mine is like silk, and every caress is a kiss without lips.

I feel the heat of his body burning against mine, his breathing deepening.

With each thrust the sweet melody of his breath crashes deliciously on my sweaty skin.

With each moan it is as if time expands, and each second lasts an eternity.

It's like opening a mysterious book, page after page.

I don't know what to expect, but I know that he is the key to that secret.

“Sunshine, ya're so tight.Shit!” breathes the archer with his lips pressed to my forehead.

As filthy as his words are, the sweetness and reverence with which he whispers them fills my heart with sweet devotion.

His every movement is a gift, every kiss a poem.

Daryl is capable of making me feel fragile and strong at the same time.

It's as if my body opened like a flower at the first ray of sunlight.

And he is the sun.

Confidence grows within me.

There are no more fears, just total abandonment.

When our bodies joined, it was like a love song.

There are no words, just moans and sighs.

A love song produced by our bodies.

I feel his heart beat in unison with mine through his chest pressed against mine.

Every thrust is a promise.

Daryl leverages his arms, lifting himself off my body.

His head falls forward, his chin almost touching his chest and a strangled moan between his parted lips.

Wonder pervades me.

It's like discovering a new universe.

Every sensation is amplified, every touch a miracle.

I close my eyes, digging my fingers into the firm flesh of his ass and let myself be carried away, like a leaf drifting on a river.

The archer's thrusts intensify, the sound of skin against skin echoes in my ears along with the blood rushing furiously beneath the surface.

My body is filled with tension while a sweet knot in my stomach prepares to spring.

Groaning, I raise myself on my elbows to look at the point where our bodies join.

Daryl's big, veiny cock sinks forcefully as his fingers dig into the flesh, leaving their imprint.

A couple more thrusts and I cum so hard that the scream gets stuck in my throat making me drown in my own pleasure.

My walls clenching rhythmically around him, milking him and making him suffocate in his own moans.

The archer, face flushed and his breathing ragged, pulls out in one sweet motion and grabbing his cock he strokes it a couple of times and then he cums.

Hot white ropes land on my stomach and breasts.

I fall back onto the sleeping bag in a daze without being able to take my eyes off the man kneeling between my thighs.

His muscular chest rises and falls furiously while his eyes remain glued to my body, observing me as a proud painter would observe his latest canvas.

Without speaking he runs a hand over his face, wiping the sweat with the back of his hand and then hovering over me he grabs one of his t-shirts using it to clean me up.

His hand moves with care and precision and once finished he lies down next to me, caging me in his arms.

In the silence of the night his hand lazily caresses my back, each caress leaving a trail of shivers behind it.

“Are ya cold?” he asks in a whisper, placing his lips on my forehead.

“A little bit” I reply pressing myself against his chest, breathing in the spicy scent of his skin.

Daryl grabs one of his shirts, placing it over our still naked bodies.

With my mind finally light and emptied, for the first time in time immemorial, I feel complete.

It's as if the world has found its balance.

My world has found its balance.

I found Daryl.

“Ya good?”

“Yeah”

“Sure?”

“Daryl, stop!” I giggle, propping myself up on one elbow and meeting his gaze, “You were perfect.Everything was perfect”

My smile seems to reassure him.

His blue eyes are two pools of serenity.

I scratch at his chest with my nails playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“Anyway…I came here for another reason although I'm not complaining about how things went” I chuckle making him chuckle too.

“Oh, really?” he teases me by pinching my side and making me laugh.

I fall back onto my back turning my head to the side.

Daryl lifts his arms to cross them behind his head, his relaxed gaze locked on mine.

“I have something for you” so I say, I turn my back on him and sit down to rummage through the pile of my clothes.

“Here” I say handing him his gun.

At first his confused gaze wanders between my face and the gun held in my hands, only a moment of confusion after which the man realizes.

“’S ’ma gun?”

I nod.

He sits down and grabs the weapon, in the meantime I take the opportunity to put on one of his t-shirts.

“Why do ya have it?”

“Now you have to promise me one thing”

His eyebrows raise suspiciously.

“Why?” he asks sceptically.

“Just promise me”

“Alrigh’, alrigh’!” he huffs in exasperation even though his lips are curled upwards.

I grab his brief from the floor and hand them to him and after he puts them on I sit on his lap.

His arms wrap around my hips and I kiss the tip of his nose.

“Carl took it.He asked me to give it back to you because he is afraid of you.So you won't tell him anything, okay?”

Daryl watches me curiously, I can hear the gears turning quickly in his head.

“Why?”

I sigh worried about that little guy.

“He's confused.He's just a scared little boy who wishes he were a man”

“And that's why he stole ’ma gun?”

I shake my head worriedly thinking back to the discussion I had with Carl shortly before.

“He feels guilty.Carl saw the walker who killed Amy”

Just saying the poor girl's name makes my throat tighten.

Daryl tightens his grip around my body, waiting patiently for me to pull me back together so I can tell him what happened.

“He says he saw it stuck in the mud.He wanted to shoot it but it freed itself and he, scared, ran away.Now he believes it's all his fault and that if he had shot it Amy would still be alive”

It's not his fault but ultimately I can understand him.

I would have thought the same thing too.

I would feel responsible too.

And I feel somehow responsible for all these people.

I feel compelled to protect the people who welcomed me with arms wide open.

I feel compelled to protect them not only from the outside world but also from their own pain.

It's all a fucking vicious circle of regret and guilt.

“Hey, listen ta me, ’ma little sunshine” whispers the archer, gently caressing my bare thigh, “None of us are to blame.The world has changed and the only thing we can really do is stay together.Help each other.Defend ourselves.Nothin’ more.Wha’ happened to Amy was inevitable.We can't change things.Ya can't protect everyone, Summer”

I know.

I am aware that I cannot protect everyone and yet I feel obliged to do so.

I can't fix everything but that will never stop me from trying even if it hurts me.

I sigh heartbrokenly as I rest my head against his chest, the slow, steady beat of his heart ringing in my ear like the sweetest of melodies.

His lips graze the crown of my head.

“Ya're too good for this world, sunshine”

I smile against the fabric of his shirt.

“Do you really think that?”

“Damn sure!”

I look up in search of his eyes, in search of the pity but that's not what I find.

In his gaze there is only sweetness, respect.

I grab one of his hands in mine, studying every curve, every little mark.

“You know” I murmur in a whisper, “Despite everything I do, I feel weak.I just wish I was stronger.More brave”

Daryl lets me vent by carefully observing my hands which with devotion continue to caress and venerate his large one.

“Ya're not weak.Ya already know wha’ I think ’bout ya”

I nod shyly raising my gaze, looking at this wonderful man from under my eyelashes.

His gaze is clear, relaxed and sincere.

All his defenses are down.

All his feelings exposed to me.

A shiver runs down my spine as his hand slowly moves down until it rests on my bare ass.

This time a mischievous smile curves his lips.

“No panties?”

I laugh throwing my head back

“Don't get any strange ideas, big boy.I'm just passing through” I announce, getting up from his lap and starting to pick up all my clothes scattered on the floor.

The archer's gaze doesn't let go of me even for a moment as I try to get dressed and not keep thinking about what just happened.

I sit next to him putting my boots on.

“I need to find Rick.I have to talk to him about Carl.I don't...”

“’M not screwing around with ya.Ya know, righ’?”

His words take me by surprise as I lace up my boots.

When I look for his gaze I find him intently staring straight ahead while nervously chewing on the corner of his thumb.

It is a tender and poignant scene at the same time.

The weight of his past has made him so vulnerable and so scared.

My soft big boy.

Life has not been kind to him, painful memories and invisible scars.

A pure heart that has learned to fear love.

A scared heart that is afraid to open up, to confide, to let someone enter his shattered world.

It's as if his heart were a wounded bird, unable to fly towards love.

His face is marked by the weight of a painful past, his eyes as deep as abysses hide secrets that only the night wind knows.

Words will never be enough so I make my decision.

I smile, even though he can't see me, and slowly get rid of my clothes again, the rustle of my clothes catches his attention and his eyes are finally on me again.

Soft and confused.

Left alone with his t-shirt on, I sit back on his lap, wrapping around his broad chest and burying my face in the crook of his neck.

His heart raging against mine, beating in unison.

“Do you know what?Rick can wait” I breathe against his throat, a light kiss where his Adam's apple bobs up and down.

“Here with you is where I want to be” I whisper, hugging him, “There is no other place in the world where I want to be”

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