#the other thing is that when that lock button is pressed when the player is turned off it turns itself on for a moment

[momochanners]

After a good night's sleep, I think I can better solidify my thoughts in regards to the Dragon Age trailer.

First, let's start with the positives:

- Companion diversity: This has always been part of the series' DNA that has been clearly depicted with every iteration, so those who cry foul over "Asian & Black elves", prosthethics, etc etc...I really don't get that, because values and sensibilities evolve over time. Even the series itself has course corrected when needed, eg. Player character creation influencing the family ethnicity of the Couslands in DA:O vs the Hawkes in DA2.

- Unlocked romances: Letting players choose whoever they want to romance regardless of their sexuality and race has always been a positive for me. Allowing everyone to enjoy the experience equally is great (and I'm sure the nuances of player race & gender will be addressed through dialogue and banter). Moreover, CRPGs are long and time-consuming, so to be locked out of character romances mid-way through is never going to be a good time (from personal experience and observing fandom in the past).

Now the negatives:

- Maybe it's me being on the older side of the Bioware fandom (15 years in Dragon Age, 20 years if you count older games like KotOR and Jade Empire), but I cringed very hard watching the trailer. If you followed the development of this game in the past decade, the cancelled live service element that was to be DA4 in one of its iterations was so all over the way the companions were introduced that it brought out a visceral reaction in me. The tonal whiplash from how foreboding Dreadwolf was presented in the past to the patronising happy quippy MEET OUR LITTLE GUYS YOU'RE SURE TO LOVE also did not help as a first concrete look of what to expect after all this time (also poor anachronistic choice of soundtrack when you already have Trevor Morris' compositions right there). I was so dismayed when they went with a looter-shooter-esque lighthearted vibe when they could've leaned hard on the foreboding established mood and momentum they've already got going with Dreadwolf. 

- The branding switch this late in the game that comes with it, especially one as drastic as this will always come with questions and ambivalence. I feel that mitigating uncertainty from announced changes (party number, combat mechanics, setting and environment, etc) should've have been prioritised to reassure existing and lapsed fans before appealing to new ones in such a jarring way.

-  I'm simply baffled at the marketing suit who signed off on whatever this is to be their "best foot forward" at reintroducing the final form of this game? If only there were confident with the world they've already built instead of relying on trendy gimmicks, the amount of damage control I'm seeing prior to the gameplay reveal tonight was so avoidable. Controlling the narrative from the get go is so very important especially now as opinions can easily snowball overnight into behemoth-like proportions especially from bad faith actors. You would think that lessons were learned from DA:O's "THIS IS THE NEW SHIT" and DA2's "Press a button, something AWESOME happens" debacles.

(The thing is, despite it being my least favourite DA out of the three, imho Inquisition has the best marketing campaign in the franchise despite the developmental troubles going on in the background. So it has been pulled off successfully before!)

- I think the Bioware layoffs, especially the recent extensive gutting of senior staff in September 2023, significantly depleted my goodwill as a fan. To see Varric being paraded as a mascot in the trailer, game promotion and supplementary media while having his creator unceremoniously let go after years of building the franchise we love left me so very cold. And it's a me problem, but seeing many other fans barely acknowledging that save for few hollow words before getting back into the fun frustrated me so much. I get being excited to finally get something solid after years of false starts, but with what was lost along the way...I personally don't feel right to approach this installment without cynicism.

Idk, I'm just a bundle of conflicted feelings over this series I guess? When it's so good, it's really good and stays with you as memorable gaming experiences that stays with you for life, but when it stumbles and fumbles the bag...it hurts to see.

[happyvalkyrieofdoom]

I think my trusty MP4 player that I’ve been using on an almost daily basis for about a decade is preparing for a happy retirement

[oneforthemunny]

home is wherever i'm with you |hockey player!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: life on the road during hockey season is far less glamorous than you thought it would be. homesick and lonely, eddie tries to get you feeling better.

also special thank you to @angietherose for the name of the au hockey team :) eddie is officially on the indy reapers! thank you to all who voted as well!

contains: fluff, but there is slight angst at the beginning. mentions of loneliness, a little depression. slight-ish tension or strain on the relationship, but you know i make it happy at the end lol. language.

Pasadena, California - 1993 

Day seventeen on your six week excursion with Eddie. Well, excursion was a generous thing to call what this was. You were feeling more like a groupie for the Indianapolis Reapers, a puck bunny as Eddie’s teammates snickered, brows raised in suggest when they’d pass jersey clad girls lingering around their buses. Stop after stop- press, practice, training, games, all over the nation. 

A suitcase full of clothes you’d grown sick of already, longing to go home and trade them for something different, washing them in the sharp, sterile detergent of the hotels. You longed for your own sheets, perfumed with your own detergent. 

Eddie was gone for most of the day. You tried to sightsee on your own, explore the cities but it was lonely, lacking someone to giggle with over lattes, to hold your hand in the street, just to talk to. The other WAGS that came along, stuck out the long haul across the states, clung to each other, comfortable in their own little clique. You were too new, an outsider to their group. 

“Hey, babe,” Eddie pressed the key into the lock, twisting the heavy latch open. “Babe, do you have that stuff? Did you bring it?” He hummed, dropping his bag at the door, kicking off his sneakers. 

His nose curled at the pungent smell, ripe from the warming weather of California. “Jesus Christ, I gotta wash this stuff. I’m sorry, I’ll put it in the laundry thing.” Eddie hummed, sliding the slotted closet door open. “Can’t believe how warm it is here already. Feels so nice outside. You’ve been outside today, sweetheart?” He rambled, sweetly, tossing the powdered detergent into the washer, shoving the workout clothes from his bag into the tiny machine. 

The steady hum of the air conditioner filled the room, his only response. Eddie’s brows lifted, jamming the button of the washer, sliding the door back into place. He didn’t remember hearing you say you were leaving today, but he had taken a pretty hard hit to the glass during practice, ears still ringing dully. 

“Baby?” Eddie called, opening the bathroom door, empty of you other than the scattered products on the vanity. Heavy steps on the patterned carpet, Eddie walked into the bedroom suite, halting at the edge of the crumpled sheets. 

You laid on your side, still in what he’d left you in that morning, eyes puffy and red rimmed looking motionlessly out the window. “Hey, I thought you- I was, uh, I was just talking but-” Eddie’s heart beat in his throat, uneasy at the sight of you, crumpled in the sheets. “Are you ok?” 

You turned, cheek still pressed to your arms under the pillow, just enough to see him- all wild curls, matted and frizzy with helmet hair. “Yeah,” You croaked, throat scratchy and sore with sobs that had stilled hours ago, still you were plagued with the aftershocks of weeks of suppressed emotion. 

“I- I’m not trying to sound like a dick or anything here, but you’re clearly not.” Eddie said softly, slowly approaching the bed. The bed dipped under his weight, a warm hand rubbing over your ankle under the cool sheets. 

“Baby,” Your face crumpled at the coo, so sweet, gentle, it made your nose burn. “What’s goin’ on?” Eddie muttered, thumb circling your ankle bone gently. 

Your nose burned with a slow, shaky exhale that he felt, rattled all the way down your body under his touch. Eddie’s heart dropped. “Hey, look at me.” Eddie’s voice was softened but sharp, teetering on frantic. You turned, looking at his wide eyes, running over your frame in worry. “What’s goin’ on? What’s the matter?” 

Your lip wobbled, head screaming words you couldn’t bring yourself to say- you didn’t know how to say. “I just-” You took a breath, chest stuttering. “I don’t… feel good.” 

Eddie’s brows creased, crawling up the bed beside you. “Don’t feel good, like, sick?” He muttered, the back of his hand pressing to your palm. “You don’t feel hot t’me. What hurts? Is it your head still? I told you, baby, that hippie dippie shit only works so much. You have to take medicine-” 

“-No,” You shook your head, eyes squeezing tightly to keep your tears at bay. “It’s-it’s not that.” 

Eddie blinked carefully. “What? Is it, like, the time of the month? D’ya need me to go get some stuff for you? You know I don’t mind to. Not a problem for me, baby, just tell me what you need.” Eddie’s head tilted to the side, so sweet and doting, it made your chest heat with swarming guilt and adoration. 

“I’m not on my period. It’s nothing, Ed.” You shook your head, curling back into your pillow. 

Eddie stilled above you. “Are- Are you pregnant?” He whispered. 

“No.” You groaned quickly, head shaking into the warmth of the pillows. 

Eddie sighed lightly, a huff of relief that fell short, when your body turned from him, back towards the window with a long inhale. “Hey, can you- can you look at me? Please? Look at me, baby.” Eddie’s pitch raised, teetering towards scared, his hand on your shoulder, pushing you gently so you rolled on your back. 

He hovered over you, curls falling down nearly brushing your cheeks. “Tell me what’s going on. Please? Tell me what’s wrong.” Eddie whispered, nearly a beg. “You don’t feel good? You don’t feel good here?” His throat swelled, tight with fear. “With me?” 

Your silence had Eddie’s stomach twisting, dropping with fear, bile rising in the back of his throat- he was going to be sick, he was sure he would be. 

“No,” You muttered, head shaking lightly under the pillow. “Not with you, just,” You reached up, nervously twirling his curl around your finger. “Just with this.” 

Eddie swallowed, willing himself still, calm, though his heart felt like it might give out. “This? Wh-What do you mean this?” Eddie’s voice shook. 

You blinked up at him, eyes rounding in a sad softness he hadn’t seen before. “I just… I miss being home.” You whispered, eyes glossing with a fresh wave of tears that pricked your waterline. “I miss seeing my friends, and being in my own bed, a-and even work. I just,” Your breath hitched, lip trembling. “I’m just really lonely.” 

Eddie was sure his heart did give out, break right in his chest, sunk right to the pit of his stomach. “Do you- You wanna go home?” Eddie’s hand ran down your cheek gently. “That’s what you want? That would make you feel better?” 

Your face crumbled, caved into itself at his tone. “I-I don’t know.” You admitted, eyes squeezed shut to keep the tears in. “I don’t want to leave you, b-but I don’t-” You pressed your palms to your eyes, taking a slow inhale through your nose. “I just don’t want to be alone so much. A-And I know that’s not your fault. I know you’re working.” 

When your eyes did meet his, Eddie wished they’d stayed closed, heartbreakingly sad, vacant of that light that usually shone through, brightening anything cast in your gaze. “I just… I’m feeling homesick, ‘m sorry.” You muttered. “I just really miss home, and I’m having a bad day.” 

“You don’t- Don’t apologize.” Eddie shook his head. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were feelin’ like this.” Eddie swallowed, pulling you up gently. Your body was slack, limp with unmotivated movement, but still, you settled into his arms. The tension in your body melted, nose buried in the material of his shirt, lathered in cologne and the hot California air. 

“I have a half day tomorrow.” Eddie muttered, his heart beating fast, you could hear it, feel it. His hand smoothed up your back. “We’ll do something. Go exploring and stuff. Do some fun stuff.” 

“You’re ‘sposed to rest.” You muttered, cheek squished to his chest. “It’s before your game, you’re supposed to be resting.” 

“Yeah, but that is resting.” Eddie shook his head gently. “I’ll be alright. Promise. Played after way worse. Me and Josh used to come in hungover, vomited on the ice one time.” Eddie’s chest rumbled with soft laughter. “Pretty sure we’re the reason that rule’s in place now.” 

Your lips curled, even through your sullen, dazed mood, you couldn’t help it. Clinging to him tighter, you moved into his touch. “Coach just means take it easy like, don’t go get fucked up and actually sleep the night before.” Eddie muttered, chin tucking down onto your head. “C’mon, lemme take you out tomorrow. Me and you. Go anywhere you want.” 

You didn’t reply. Instead, sighed gently, settling into his hold. 

Eddie was restless through all of morning practice, hands buzzing, ready to run to the rental car at the first dismissal. Shower be damned, he’d take a quick one at the hotel, he couldn’t be held up any longer. 

“What’s goin’ on with you, Munson?” Elijah muttered, next to Eddie in the huddle on the ice, the coach’s droning about protocol for the game. 

“Nothin’.” Eddie whispered back, twisting his stick in his hands. “Just wish he’d fuckin’ hurry up.” 

Elijah’s eyes cut to Eddie, snorting lightly. “You got somewhere to be?” 

“Yeah, I do actually.” Eddie sighed out. “Gotta get back. Promised my girl I’d take her out.” 

Elijah’s brows raised. “Shit, you brought her with you?” 

Eddie’s shoulders tensed. “She wanted to come.” He muttered defensively. “I mean, she wanted to. Now it’s kinda fucked, she’s-” Eddie’s eyes cut around him. “She’s kinda homesick.” 

Elijah nodded slowly. “Yeah, that happens.” He fought back a smile. “When’s the last time you took her out?” 

Eddie’s eyes cut to him, defensive with accusation. “It’s not like that. I take her out.” 

“Yeah? On the off day? After we’ve traveled all day?” Elijah snorted, shaking his head. “C’mon, Munson. Believe me, that doesn’t count.” 

Eddie ignored him, gripping his stick with furious annoyance. The fuck did he know? He didn’t know anything. 

“Look, I’m not tryna piss you off. I did it, too. Just- believe me, alright? That one day shit doesn’t work.” Elijah pressed gently. 

“Hey, I got it, alright? I’m good.” Eddie growled. 

Elijah held his hands up in defense. “Alright, I’m just saying, when it was me,” He started. “I wasn’t meaning to. I just wasn't used to it. Had my own road routine and tried to fit her around it instead of into it. Thought it was going good until it wasn’t.” 

Eddie stilled, silent but shoulders slumping lightly. “You gotta change your routine, find a way to fit her into it. She’s on the road too, not just you.” Elijah continued. 

The coach whistled, waving them in dismissal. Eddie blinked, pulled out of his daze, lifting his helmet and stick with him. Elijah nodded at him. “Have fun tonight, Munson.” He smiled softly. “Make sure you take her somewhere nice.” 

Elijah’s words rang in Eddie’s head all the way back to the hotel, only a short drive from the arena. Eddie nearly threw his keys at the valet, sliding into the elevator shamelessly, bouncing on the balls of his toes until he reached your floor. 

You startled when he came in, sitting at the vanity, doing your makeup. “You’re done already?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie muttered, ducking down for a kiss. “Just gotta shower real quick, but are you hungry?” He shimmied his workout sweats onto the floor, kicking his socks off with them. 

Your eyes lingered over his bare lower half for a second, turning back to paint your mascara on. “I’m not starving.” You mumbled. 

“Alright, good, I was gonna see if we could go to this place. I think you’ll like it.” Eddie grinned over his shoulder at you, the hiss of the shower coming to life. “Some guys told me if you’re in Pasadena you gotta go here.” His smile so wide, eyes sparkling in the dim yellowed light of the hotel bathroom, it made your tummy tingle with warm excitement. 

“Promise you’re not looking?” Eddie mumbled, hands over your eyes, waddle-walking awkwardly behind you, pressed close to your back. 

“Swear I’m not.” You grinned. Eddie was right, it was beautiful outside. Warm and bright, light illuminating his hands that covered your eyes with a reddish glow. 

“I can feel you trying to. Your lashes are tickling me.” Eddie muttered, leaving you giggling. “Ok, just- you know what, this is good enough. I’m scared you’re gonna trip.” Eddie said, lips curling at your soft laugh. 

“Are you ready for your surprise?” You could hear Eddie’s grin in his voice, a breeze floating between the two of you. 

“Yes.” You giggled, Eddie’s chest swelling at the sound. “Just show me. Your hands are clammy. They’re gonna smear my mascara.” 

“Shit, sorry.” Eddie muttered sheepishly, a blush spilling on his cheeks, pulling his hands away so they were still in front of you. “Ok, ready?” 

“Eddie-” 

“-Sorry, Alright, one, two,” Eddie moved his hands, smiling proudly in front of you, a pinkish looking building behind you. “Here it is! Surprise!”

You blinked. “Oh.” You quipped softly. 

Eddie blinked, smile falling. “What? I thought you’d- You don’t like it?” 

“No,” You shook your head. “I mean, no, that’s- Where are we?” 

“Oh,” Eddie shook his head lightly. “Shit, I thought you’d know. Uh, apparently this place is supposed to be like the place for flowers, y’know? Pasadena has that flower festival thing, but it’s not until later and I know you like to go to the cool places, and-” Eddie motioned to the store behind him. 

You took in the building, spilling over with plants you could see from the inside. “I, uh, I know you miss home.” Eddie said softly. “And I was just thinking, y’know, we can’t get houseplants like at home, but maybe some bouquets? Some flowers for the hotel room.” 

Eddie waited a beat, desperately trying to read your face, eyes wandering over the building and the signs. “I thought maybe you’d pick out some flowers and-and it would make it feel like home.” Eddie’s hands slid down his jeans, hot from the sun beaming on them. “Plus, you wanted to see some around here, a-and y’know… one bird, two stones.” Eddie rambled, shrugging sheepishly. 

You felt the familiarity of a cry bubbling back in your chest, swelling and suffocation, only this time the aching of sadness was gone. In its place, a bubbling, burning feeling of adoration was left, consuming you from the inside out with every nervous glance Eddie gave you. He’d listened, really fucking listened. He always did, but this time it was different. Relief, comfort washing over you for the first time in days. 

It felt like home. 

Like the two of you were back in Hawkins, or Indianapolis even, perusing the usual spots, happy and content to be together in a familiar place. 

Eddie wasn’t expecting you to grab him, pull him into you with a fierce, sloppy kiss. Right there on the sidewalk, under the California sunshine. Lips melting into his, clawing and grabbing at his shirt, the back of his neck. Eddie’s cheeks burned bright when you pulled apart, a smile so wide and goofy it made you giggle. 

He let you grab his hand, lead him around the flower shop like a lost puppy, picking out anything and everything that made you smile. A bright bouquet spilling out beautifully in the green vase, made just for you. 

You sat it right on the small bedside table, beaming at how it livened up the room. Eddie wasn’t sure if it was the flowers or you. Either way, it revived you, made you happier and giddier. Made the sheets of the hotel less cold when you slipped beneath them, legs tangled in his, pinning him under you onto the stiff mattress. It made the room brighter, spilling with a new fragrance that felt familiar. 

It was small, a miniscule way that meant the world to you; made you feel at home. Eddie knew it, planning how he’d do it with every next city, until you finally got back home.

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 17: "This One's For You."

Word Count: 1k

Rating: G

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

CW: None

Summary: Snowed in during a blizzard, Eddie’s daughter Eliza proves just how like him she is.

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie hasn’t taken many classes in his life, let alone any philosophy ones, but he couldn’t help but ponder one philosophical question these last three days: how long can someone be locked in the same house as two teenage boys and a four-year-old girl before they go absolutely insane?

The blizzard outside had sealed the five of you in the house together for the third straight day now and it’s becoming maddening. There are only so many activities one can do with a four-year-old that will, one, hold their attention, and two, not make you want to tear your hair out after an hour. 

Some of the things you’ve done as a family have been very entertaining, like when you all played Pretty Pretty Princess and somehow Eddie kept winning and Ryan and Luke were having a great time adorning him with the pink plastic jewelry. The pictures you took of that will forever be cherished—as long as you can keep them out of your husband’s hands. 

Having Luke and Ryan try to teach you how to play some of their favorite video games was amusing as well. The boys more so than the game, though. It quickly became apparent to you that your sons do not possess the patience to teach anything to anyone—let alone a first-person shooter game where they expect you to master the use of a dozen buttons on a controller that you’ve never held before. 

“I don’t think this Hollow game is for me,” you say after “Master Chief,” as your kids called him, gets killed for the fourth time.

“It’s Halo!” both boys shout, one on each side of you so you get it in stereo.

It takes all your willpower not to laugh as you press your lips tightly together to suppress a smile. You remembered the name of the game the second time they told you, now you’re just messing with them. 

An afternoon of you and Eliza looking through an old photo album springs to life an idea in her little mind.

“That Daddy?” she asks, pointing to a picture of Eddie in action up on stage. He’s in the middle of headbanging, so his curls are flying wildly around his head.

“That’s Daddy,” you tell her. “Being a rockstar, showing off in front of everyone.” You smile down at your daughter before playfully poking her in the belly. “Reminds me of you.”

Eliza’s eyes light up at the comment and you can’t help but wonder what sparked in that head of hers. 

“Be back!” she shouts as she hops off the couch. Her tiny feet make thunderous booms as she runs down the hallway, calling out for her brothers. “Ryan! Luuuuuke!”

After dinner, the four-year-old instructs you and Eddie to sit on the couch and to stay still and wait for her. Keeping quiet, you and your husband trade amused looks until the door to the pink princess room opens, and Eliza re-emerges, decked out in her Tinker Bell costume from Halloween. On each of her small legs is a black sock that clearly belongs to Ryan. They are also clearly meant to be knee socks, yet they go up the small girl’s thighs. Finishing up her ensemble is her pink Piglet sunglasses. 

Gripped in her tiny fist is the music player with a microphone that she was gifted as a toddler. The way she enters the room with all the gravitas and confidence of a model walking the runway almost makes you think you’re the one who’s dressed unconventionally. 

Behind her, Ryan has a toy guitar that has been passed down through all three children tucked under his arm and Luke carries the gray garbage pail from the bathroom in one hand and a CD in the other. 

While Eliza takes her place front and center before you and Eddie, Ryan positions himself behind her, yielding the spotlight. 

Luke steps over to the stereo and pops in the CD he was holding before following his big brother’s lead and assuming the position behind the star of the show. Ryan tugs an ottoman over to sit on, the toy guitar resting on his knee while Luke sits on the floor and flips the garbage pail over so he can use it as a drum.

“Are you ready?” Eliza asks, mouth right up against the yellow plastic of her microphone.

“Yeah!” you exclaim.

“Woo!” Eddie cheers. 

“Hit it!” Luke says. 

The music begins, notes floating over from the stereo to this impromptu performance space. It takes a moment, but you recognize the song before Eliza starts singing Part of Your World.

The CD turns out to be a compilation of different Disney songs covered by Disney Channel stars, and Eddie makes a mental note to ask you why the hell you bought that for her. 

Ryan and Luke are surprisingly into it, having fun performing while their little sister hams it up. They’re like their own little version of Hanson. 

The instrumentals of the next song drift through the air and Eliza tosses her pink sunglasses aside and points at Eddie.

“This one’s for you!” she shouts, which is very mismatched with the slow, melodic tune that’s playing. 

You rest your head on your husband’s shoulder as your little girl starts to serenade him with her rendition of Go the Distance from Hercules. 

Once she sings the last note (and you hide your wince as best as possible), Eliza lets the yellow microphone fall from her hand. She bends at the waist, bowing so far down that her curls flip over her head and brush the navy carpet. 

It’s your cue, so you and Eddie both clap, cheering for the adorable performance.

Luke stands and takes a bow next, and Ryan figures he might as well follow his lead. 

Eddie whistles and a rare blush tinges Eliza’s cheeks. 

“Thank you!” she calls, arms raised over her head, addressing her crowd.

The true daughter of a rock star. 

“Goodnight!”

[agirlandherkinks]

Hypnovisor: Beta Test (TGTF, Hypno)

James had always been a tech super-fan. The newest phone, newest headphones, shiniest laptop, he had to stay abreast of and on top of the current trends. So when he read about some fancy new VR company that wanted beta testers for a headset, provided for free (minus shipping), his vision blurred and he signed up before he even considered finishing reading the ad.

Three weeks of anticipation and waiting passed until his doorbell finally rung, accompanied by the corresponding buzz of an email notification on his phone. Scrambling from his couch he flung the apartment door open, and to his mild surprise saw that the postman was nowhere in site. There was just a nondescript cardboard box labelled "Fragile", which fortunately bore none of the expected dents and scratches one would associate with the postal service and delicate freight. Practically bouncing with undignified delight, James scooped his parcel up and dashed back inside, barely remembering to lock the door behind him.

The headset looked even better than he had imagined. Sleek plastic curves surrounded a central visor that was just translucent enough to see through, meaning you could walk around safely if you turned a program's opacity down. It fit beautifully when he tried it on, more comfortable than anything he'd ever worn. Wearing it felt wonderful and... right, somehow. His only complaint was that the black headset was decorated in hot pink highlights, although it still looked futuristic enough to sooth his fragile masculinity. His roommate and best friend Erik certainly agreed, interspersing James' insightful comments with appropriate "Ooh's" and "Aah's". Waiting for the battery to charge seemed to take a thousand years, although chatting with each other about what it could do replaced their boredom with swiftly growing excitement.

Two hours later, a soft buzz from the headset in the corner signified its charge was complete. Erik cheered, his sandy-blonde hair bouncing behind him, and even James couldn't suppress a soft whoop of excitement. Erik unplugged it and handed it to James with a flourish and a bow, who accepted it with a suitable stuffy speech. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he was so giddy with anticipation he felt he could match Erik's goofiness for once. The advertisement had promised unmatched realism, a luxurious fit, and cutting-edge, groundbreaking technology. Normally James would have discounted claims like that as corporate claptrap, but the headset fit so well he actually believed the rest of it.

Booting up the headset brought a perky, relaxing jingle in his ears and wall of settings text in his vision. He would have read it, but between his own excitement and Erik's infectious enthusiasm he left the settings on default and skipped to the main menu. The feedback for the buttons was amazing, it felt just like he was pressing down on them whenever he touched one! Another little jingle sounded as he confirmed his choices, and a few games and applications bubbled up into his view, imposed over a hot pink background.

"So Erik, what do you think I should try," James asked. "We've got a music player, interior design app, some sorta idle monster game, and a few RPG's." "Surely try out the RPG's man! You've gotta see that high-definition you were yammering about when we called." Erik's voice came back surprisingly muffled, as if he was speaking down a long tunnel. "Bro, I can barely hear you, the noise-cancelling on this headset's insane! It's like I'm in a world of my own!" James took a deep breath, recovering a little of his composure. "Alright, an RPG it is. Fantasy, sci-fi, or modern day?" "Go fantasy! You know we've both got a thing for elf chiiiicks. Hell, with the kind of feedback you were telling me about, you might even get to grab her" Erik's distant voice sounded playful, with a ting of desire and jealousy. And it did make James hard, at the thought of getting to look and squeeze and fondle some busty elf bitch, made entirely to his wishes~

To James' horror a quiet moan escaped his lips, accompanied by faint hysterical laughter from his friend. Brushing it off angrily, he slammed the icon for 'Silverflame: A Magical Journey' (the button felt like thick moss to his touch). Instantly a soft flute begun to play in his ears, accompanied by the gentle lull of a harp and a quiet sparkling. James felt himself relax, all the tension draining out of his body. Erik must have noticed too, because James heard his laughter die down to be replaced with a slightly concerned silence. "Don't worry man," James said, "music's just really pretty..." He trailed off with a slight giggle, but heard Erik give an affirmative just before a silky, sultry voice started to speak.

"Welcome traveler, to the beautiful world of Silverflame. An untamed paradise where strange beasts roam the land, noble adventurers go forth in search of treasure, and the most wonderful magic [James shuddered] is woven. You are the latest brave, beautiful heroine [Heroine? Shouldn't I get to choose my character's gender first?] to step foot into this land. But first, tell us a bit about who you really are."

Pink sparkles rained across the screen, superimposing his view of a vibrant meadow with a series of stats. Physique, IQ, Wisdom, and Charisma, fairly standard stuff. And next to it, a human man with a blank, slightly happy expression on his face [...did he look familiar?]. James gasped, he looked just like a real person! Erik was suitably impressed by this information, and urged him to pick some stats so he can get to the body modification. "You can always change them later man, might as well pick a couple of stats now and get a move on. Sounds like you're not gonna get to pick your gender for a while, which kinda sucks. Buuut if we're being horny about this, you might as well go for a slut scaffold so you make less changes later." James chuckled at this, remembering the build they discussed one night while both sloshed beyond belief. For this game it would be high Physique and Charisma, low IQ and Wisdom. James touched the slider for Physique, and gasped as he felt himself feel... better than he had in a long time.

Not trusting his senses any more, and worrying about Erik being exposed to whatever was happening from the other side of the headset, James brushed off his concerned questions (which he could barely hear now, past the soothing, soothing, music) and suggested he went to the toilet, since he'd been holding it in since he got here. Erik grumbled at missing out, but mercifully left. James was actively sweating from what just went through his body, but couldn't muster the energy or concentration to feel the level of panic he knew he should be. The music was just so, so calming, that fear was harder to feel than usual. The prompt told him he still had to change two more stats, so he decided to turn down Wisdom. He gasped again and his vision went blurry, and when it cleared he felt a bit, fuzzier? In the head. But it wasn't too bad, in fact it was perfectly manageable. He felt even calmer now, so maybe changing another stats would make him feel better. Why not IQ? He tapped the slider.

He groaned as an immense pressure wrapped around his brain. Thoughts, aspirations, memories felt like they were melting from his head faster than they appeared. The pressure seemed like it lasted forever, but eventually it trailed off and he was left panting in his chair. It had felt, really good? Like, tots good, even. James giggled to himself. Something was different about him, but he couldn't think what. Oh well, it'll probably come to him later. He squealed in delight as he realized he could get a step closer to the body modification page, although he looked longingly at the IQ slider. He could come back to it later, for now it was time to make his super-hot elf slut a body!

James clapped to himself with delight as a cute little melody played, a shower of sparkles spiraled [spiraled...] across the screen, and the man on the side moved to the center of the screen. "Firstly", the sultry voice said, "choose what race you want to be." That was an easy choice. He clicked on the 'Elf' button, and shivered as he felt tingles run through his body, intensifying in his ears. Reaching up to touch them, he inhaled as he felt long, pointed tips. In fact, his whole body seemed a bit slimmer. This doesn't quite feel right... he thought. Oh I know! It must be making me an elf too! Maybe we'll be in a party together! Between the strange fuzziness and the pulsating heat in his groin, James quickly flicked to the next page and made his choices. Long, silver hair, gorgeous big purple eyes, and some giant perky lips. "Combination unlocked!" the narrator exclaimed, "+1 Charisma, -1 Wisdom!" James giggled again as the mental fog settled a little tighter around his brain and naughty thoughts about cute girls and boys filled his brain. Boys? Well I guess I've never minded swinging both ways... This felt natural to him, because of course he'd always been bisexual. Next screen!

"Choose your voice young heroine," the woman commanded. James felt a little strange, like her voice was echoing around his head. And why were the sparkles still there, spinning and spinning around the screen. He felt confused, but knew he had to obey that voice. He picked the sexiest combination for his own voice; high pitched, breathy, perky. "Combination unlocked! +1 Charisma, -1 Int." He moaned as that wonderful pressure wrapped his brain and his weekend plans changed to eyeing hunks at the beach. Girls were cool and all, but men had always been more interesting to him [and their pulsing, hard...].

"Now heroine, can you tell me: Are you a girl, or a boy?" The question sent shock waves through his brain. He was a he... right? Why did it feel like there was some longing, some need to acknowledge the woman in him... her? The fog, the music, the spirals, all the feelings he had been having, James could hardly think. Maybe he should think less. Being a girl sounded fun, it's just a character after all. And he needed to be sexy. "Wonderful choice young lady! Now, are you a dominatrix, a super-switch, or a bimbo slut?" Bimbo slut~ James giggled as the words echoed in her brain. She was a bit of a slut, now that she thought about it. It felt odd to pick it, but why not for funsies? "Bimbo slut selected! Wonderful choice, just wonderful. Hold still while your stats are adjusted, and then we'll begin on giving you the perfect, sexy body you've always wanted."

The spirals filled her view and began increasing in speed. James was taken aback at first, but quickly felt oddly calm and receptive to that sultry voice.

"Physique +1, Physique +1, Physique +1." James felt wonderful, like every ache and blemish in his body had faded away.

"Wisdom -1, Wisdom -1." Thinking was fuzzy, but Jamella felt so content she didn't care.

"Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1. Charisma +1." Jamella gasped as visions of sexy men, pecs and abs and juicy, throbbing cocks filled her mind. A desperate heat filled her, and she began touching her groin against her will to try and ease it.

"IQ -1." She moaned, feeling light.

"IQ-1." Empty. She was so, wonderfully empty.

"IQ -1." This was like, so much funsies! She didn't know what was going on, but everything felt so nice~

"IQ -1. Congratulations Ella, you now have the 'Bimbo Slut' build."

Ella giggled absently. Thinking was like, so hard, and she felt like, so hard~. The fun spirals had disappeared... But the nice lady was talking to her again! With great effort, she listened in. "Now that your mental changes are complete, it's time for the physical changes!" Ella rubbed her thighs together and cheered in excitement. She couldn't wait to have more fun! "Unless you choose so now, the process will be au-to-ma-tic [...why was she using such big words?]. You can choose to take over at any time, or wait until the end and adjust as you please [...please. That word felt funny in her brain]".

"No user input detected. Body adjustment commencing."

A nice shiver went through Ella's body as she felt her headset warm against her face. Looking at the boring young man she'd begun to customize (her reflection, of course), she couldn't wait to begin! She sighed happily as waves of pretty silver hair drifted into her view and cascaded down her back. It felt especially nice against her smooth, soft skin, and she couldn't help but gently shake her head to watch it sway. A cool feeling brought her attention to her face, and the alluring amethyst eyes now set in it. Her face itself became much more elegant [but cutesy, too!], and she puckered her lips as a lovely pressure made them swell and bulge out, giving her a sexy and kissable pout [the boys'll love this look! boys~]. She felt herself shrink a few centimeters, gulping as her Adam's apple disappeared into her body. In fact, her whole body had become even more slender, with narrow shoulders, adorably small hands [pretty purple nails!], and a tiny little waist. She gasped, then clasped her hands over her mouth in delight. Her voice was so high and cutesy! She couldn't stop herself from giving out tiny, high-pitched giggles, just to hear how cute she was!

"Basic body structure altered. Adjusting outfit in preparation for primary and secondary sexual characteristics."

Ella ooh'ed appreciatively as a stream of sparkles enveloped her body. And when they disappeared, she squealed in delight! Her drab t-shirt and denim shorts were gone! In their place was a beautiful silver mini-dress that shimmered like starlight when she moved. She frowned in vexation, though. The plunging chest and shoulder-less design was very pretty, but her chest was flat! [shouldn't I have tiddies? The boys won't like me like this...] And the way it clung to her waist and hips would have been sexy, but as it was there was barely any difference between them! Her ass wasn't nearly big enough to justify how the dress cut off barely past it, and with how tight the fabric was Ella could see how achingly hard she was [wait, why do I have a cock? I'm supposed to get cock! In my mouth, in my ass, in my tight little pussy~]. It wasn't right!

"Thank you for your patience sweetie. Optimal figure calculated. Prepare for adjustment of sexual characteristics."

Ella let out a moan as a wave of heat and pleasure washed over her. With how horny she was she could barely keep her eyes open, but she knew she wanted to watch herself become the sexy little [cum] slut she was meant to be [I want it... I want to be~]. The heat settled in her hips, her ass, and her chest, and she moaned again as the changes begun.

Her nipples grew first, more than doubling in size and stiffening through the soft fabric of her dress. Tentatively touching them induced a gasp of pleasure [so nice~] and sent her rocking backwards. The motion made her giggle, because in that time she'd grown a cute pair of B-cup breasts that jiggled when she rocked. Jiggle makes me giggle. I like giggling. I like jiggling. Ella nodded thoughtfully to herself, feeling very wise. Her boobies grew to C-cups. She jiggled some more. She giggled some more.

A tightness around her hips distracted Ella from her tiddies. They were growing! She groaned as fabric and flesh tightened around them, too euphoric to feel pain. Sliding her hands from her waist to her hips made her squeal happily. She had such a sexy hourglass figure, she knew any girl worth her money would be jealous [and the boys would wanna hold me and squeeze me and fuck me raw]. Thighs thickening dramatically in response to her growth, she slapped her ass in impatience. Why won't it get bigger already!

But get bigger it did, swelling out in response to her touch. She fell forward as sheer pleasure blanketed her mind and weakened her knees. Squishing her boobies against the ground made her feel even nicer, until she was panting and moaning for somebody to help, to hit her again and make her bigger~

A slap landed on her booty, and she groaned in delight as it and her thighs swelled again. More. More! I NEED MORE! She moaned in ecstasy as blow after blow landed, making her swell and grow and grow and swell and feel so gooooood! Her tits inflated to D, then E-cups [good for the boys. I can jiggle so well for them~]. Her hips widened and thighs thickened, until she looked ridiculously large compared to her waist [ridicu... ridic... really, really sexy...] And her ass kept growing, and growing, and growing and growing and growing and growing! Tighter! Around my cock! Cock... I... oh~ Too... too... much! Too much! I'm~ I'm!

OooOOoOoOOooOoOoooOOOOOHHH~

Ella screamed in delight as she came, just cumming and cumming and cumming her tiny little brain out.

"Wisdom -1. IQ -1. Charisma +1. Charisma +1."

She was desperate, humping against the ground as the flow of cum abated from her cock. Everything she had been was flowing out of her messy stupid brain, and everything that she should be was coming in. Boys... Cock... Need fuck... Breed~ I'm such a dumb little cum slut~ She giggled to herself.

"Final adjustment required."

Ella stood up shakily, the bottom of her dress a cum-soaked mess. She squealed with delight as the mental fog settled even tighter and she felt an intense heat in her groin. She could see the tops of nipples trying to break free from her dress, and could feel the air drift over her ass, which had mostly escaped the fabric in her growth. So sexy. Hehe~ Boy can take me~ Don't even need dress off~ Thinking hard... Her ass and hips had pulled up so much fabric that her cock was visible now, deflating and still leaking from her orgasm, but she gasped in pleasure as it began rising up again. And, as she felt something long and hard brush her booty [cock? Boys? Fuck?].

A pressure like hands on her shoulders forced her to her knees, and she whimpered in desire as she felt an unseen cock touch her cheek. At the same time, something began intensely stimulating her own. She reflexively opened her mouth in a moan, but was cut off as she felt the cock shove inside [Feels~ Feels!].

All thought stopped.

Her mind was blank, full of pleasure and desire and happiness. Her cock felt good like it never had before, and the dick in her mouth tasted wonderful~ This was what Ella was made for, what she was meant to be. Feeling good, feeling sexy, feeling a pleasant emptiness that could only be filled with cock. Her haze reached a crescendo. Dimly she was aware of her own cries of ecstasy, muffled by the cock fucking her mouth and mind, as she came harder than she even had before. And as she came, her dick shrunk with each spurt until it went inside her [inside me!]. The cock withdrew from her mouth, filling her with a desperate longing. Emma moaned for her unseen hero, then gasped as she felt him once more. And blinked in surprise as the pretty meadow and her sexy reflection disappeared.

She was kneeling on the floor of an unfamiliar room. Shaking off a little of her confusion [don't need know much anyways...], she gasped as the tell-tale smell of pre-cum filled her nose. There was a man standing in front of her!

Sandy-blonde hair. Body like a surfer hunk! Naked. With a massive, sexy cock, dripping with her saliva and it's own juices. Ella moaned in desire, falling on all fours. Visibly trembling with lust, he tenderly cupped her cheek and slowly moved behind her.

Touching her with his [cock!].

Ever so gently, on the edge of her [...pussy!!!!]

He rammed inside her, and she screamed as an absolute feeling of rightness, of sexiness and pleasure and single-minded happiness rushed through her [MORE! HARDER! COCKKKK~]. Riding his dick she felt herself go into a trance, with nothing, absolutely nothing, disturbing her feelings. Ever. This was right. Ella moaned and surrendered to herself, drifting away on her lover's cock and mindless pleasure.

[asunflowerana]

mishaps — Itoshi Rin

“I love you, Rin.”

He swallows the rest of whiskey in his glass, the malt and alcohol burning his throat as he tries to chug it all down. He wants to suppress his senses and hush his mind, anything to stop the non-stop aching in his heart.

He just wants to forget, but the remorse keeps whispering in his head, from the moment his eyes found your figure among the mingling bodies in the room. Someone he hasn’t seen in years, that he didn't realised how much he longed for until now. The gentle tone of your voice, your bright smile when you saw something you liked, the twinkle in your eyes whenever you watched one of his matches; the feeling of holding you, having you right there between his arms even though a brief moment, made most of his days in high school. The sound of his name running through your honey lips, excited, apprehensive, sad, hopeful.

Once, Rin had all of you versions. Now, he can only get a small, superficial glimpse, which is still beautiful because it’s a part of you.

He wants to have the whole you again.

But how could he, after what he said?

“Rin.” As if his problems couldn’t get any worse, he hears Sae's voice close to him, taking the opportunity to sit on the free stool aside his. Shoulders tensing, Rin anticipates another pitiful conversation, wondering if he could be fast enough to make up a small excuse and escape to the bathroom. It’s hard enough to have your own mind reminding you of your mistakes; he doesn't want to hear it from Sae too.

Not that he can stop him, anyway. 

“Your teammates are looking for you. That lanky guy wants a couple of pictures for the press” Ego. He almost forgets why he's in this party, among futile golddiggers, instead of the safety of his home. 

With the promising future of Blue Lock 11, the company held a gala event to promote the project and acquire more sponsorships. All the eleven best players were obligated to make an appearance, in addition to some guests of honor, renowned players, soccer club presidents, and some contemplated journalists. 

A game of pretenses, appearances, and a lot of money involved. Another reason he wants to leave as soon as possible. This party was over before it even started for him.

“Not interested.” He lifts his hand to the barman for another round. He doesn't even bother to turn his face toward his brother, keeping his piercing eyes away from attention. The pink-haired man beside him chuckles, finding the scene too amusing. 

“You know, she moved on quite quickly.” Rin clenches his jaw. Sae knows exactly how to push his buttons, and the bastard won't stop until he gets a reaction out of him. “Why are you so pitiful? It's not like you didn't reject her in the first place.”

Words that stings like alcohol on a fresh wound. Why cant' he just leave him alone? His situation is torturing enough. He can’t help but glance at the happy couple a few meters away, slow-dancing on the dancefloor with a sickening fond gaze at each other, as if they're the only thing that matters there.

Red take sover his vision, watching that man’s arm wrapped around your waist, bringing your bodies close to each other in a embrace. An intimacy that not him, but his own teammate created with you.

Hyoma Chigiri it's the name of the man who stole the happiness Rin refused in the past. The man who hasn’t taken his eyes and hands off you, earning your smiles and flustered giggles as he impeccably leads you on, just like in those scenes from fairytales. The man who doesn’t need pointless words to express how beautiful you are, but do it with honesty, just by staring at you.

The man who placed a gold, diamond ring on your right finger, as a promise of his unending love for you.

Rin wants to break him apart right there, but he chooses to gulp down his replaced dose of beverage, the only thing that can hold him down, as ironic as it is. He ends it in one shot, having enough of this terribly and long night.

“Tell them I left sooner.” Not waiting for an answer, he places a tip on the counter to the bartender, poor guy did quiet a good job at bearing his grumbles and sorrow. Ego probably won’t like his departure, he hasn't shown much of himself through the night, but in the end of the day, Rin doesn't give a care. 

“Running away, I see.” Sae scratches his chin, observing his younger brother's. It's not a situation he could intervene even if he wanted to, but man, it’s irritating to watch Rin's childishness, preferring to sulk in silence instead of fighting for what he lost. You loved him before, you could love him again. He might be a good player now, but he's still as dumg as ever.

“Maybe it was for the best. She wouldn’t be happy with a coward dragging her down, anyway.”

Rin stills. His brother should thank heaven for the few steps he took away from him, or he would have a bloody broken nose for everyone to see. It would be unfair, though, because he doesn't disagree with him. He does wants to get you back, but no amount of trys will change the fact that he rejected you. You wouldn’t forgive him, even if your eyes no longer hold resentment when gazing at his

Now, they hold indifference. Maybe a bit of politeness you grant for people you've just met, but it's not the same way you used to look at him. And that's so much worse, ‘cause it means that what you both had lost its significance; as if he's no longer worth keeping in your memory.

“Good evening, Itoshi.” IIt's how you greeted him earlier, with nothing but cordiality. 

He was never Itoshi to you. He was Rin, your Rin.

“I love you, Rin”

“....I don’t.”

Two words. Two cursed words, coming so easily out of his mouth, made him lose everything. Everything, over a stupid teenager pride. Love was not on young Rin's plans, the only goal filling his mind was to become the world's best striker, and defeat his brother. Love would be a waste of time and effort, and he didn’t want anything to disrupt his ambition.

His own mind disrupts him now.

Giving a final, challenging gaze at his brother, he mumbles. “Don't talk to me as if you were better.” And then he leaves, taking the phone from his pants pocket to order a taxi back to the dorm. He’ll probably practice a few extra hours the next day to make up for the misfortune, but he doesn’t mind. 

As long as he forgets, anything will do.

n/a: writing angst is so bittersweet... rinrin will have his redemption, i hope😬

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[withwritersblock]

5 foot 9

~5 Foot 9 by Tyler Hubbard~

Author's Note: short and sweet lol Summary: Cole finally speaks to the girl he sees every day. Word Count: 743 Cole Caufield x fm!reader

She was stunning. Every day since he moved into this apartment complex he’s seen her. A sundress covering her frame, even on the cold days in Montreal. It was always a ten second interaction. A polite smile as they pass each other in the lobby. 

Her smile was intoxicating, so much so that Cole hasn’t stopped thinking about her. Which is why he is currently pacing in his apartment, he was ready earlier than normal. He was so excited to just meet her gaze and see her smile. He had a minute until he would leave to get the chance to see her.

Today, he was dressed nicer than how she normally would’ve seen them. He had a black undershirt and a dark teal suit. He switched his suit three times trying to decide which one would be perfect. Yet he was still ready earlier than normal. 

He probably wasn’t even going to see her. It was Saturday night, she was probably getting ready to go out with friends.

He took a hold of his keys and left his apartment, locking it before he walked down the hall towards the elevator. 

“C’mon,” he mumbled as the elevator was taking forever to reach the twelveth floor. The doors finally opened and he quickly stepped inside. Pressing the lobby button before he pressed to close the doors. He leaned against the back wall, watching the numbers slowly go down.

On the fifth floor the elevator doors opened and a beautiful girl wearing a Habs jersey with leather black pants stepped inside. He looked into her eyes, giving her the same polite smile that he’s always given her every time he saw her in the lobby. She always looked gorgeous in a sundress, but seeing her wear his team’s jersey lit a fire inside of him. 

She spun around as she walked inside, Cole took note of Lehkonen on the back. It must’ve been an older jersey since he was with the Avs this season. She stood beside him closer than a normal amount of space allowed in an elevator. 

Cole never noticed her height before, she was a couple inches taller than him, but the thought went out of his mind as quickly as it went in. He shifted his gaze towards her and she did the same thing.

“Habs fan?” he let out, the words shocked himself as she smiled. 

“I’ve lived in Montreal for two years now,” she said with a southern accent, “Have yet to see a game,” she mumbled as she met his eyes.

“Two years? I’m a little hurt,” he explained, placing his hand to his chest. She chuckled a wide smile to her lips.

“I did get a jersey when I moved here, does that make you feel better?” she teased, her southern accent was bright and beautiful. A different sound then what he’s used to.

“It’s not mine, can’t say it does,” he turned his body towards her and raised his eyebrows as he pressed his lips together. She rolled her eyes playfully. “Lehky is a good player though. Good choice,” he said as the elevator doors opened. His eyes looked at the lobby, saddened to see the moment end so soon.

They walked out of the elevator side by side. “Oh darlin’ I know, my dad grew up in Montreal, he’s a die hard Habs fan,” she expressed. He smiled widely.

“So you knew who I was and never stopped to say hi or anything?” he asked with a teasing tone.

“I liked you being the pretty boy stranger in the lobby, not the Habs star player,” she explained while they walked through the lobby side by side.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without a dress on,” he said as he nervously shoved his hands into his pants pockets.

“Hockey arena’s are cold,”

“So is Montreal,” he said laughing. They reached the doors and the chilly Novemeber air hit the pair. She smiled widely. 

“I guess that’s also true,” she explained as she stepped up towards the Uber waiting for her. “Good luck tonight, Cole Caufield,” she mumbled before she climbed into the backseat. 

He stood still, a smirk on his lips as he watched the Uber drive away. 

He finally spoke to the stunning girl in the lobby and he never caught her name.

 His eyes widened, “Fuck,” he groaned, his mouth fell open. He never caught her name, “Idiot,” he muttered, gazing at the pavement.

[simonsrosebud]

Andreil. Neil has a little accident and has temporarily amnesia. He flips out and is running, falling in old patterns. Andrew and others look for him

THIS WAS SO FUN!!


Andrew knows Neil. Inside and out. He knows how he moves on the court and off, how he sounds when he and Kevin go at it versus when he’s beneath Andrew, how his lips twitch when he tries holding back the grin he sees in his father and the squinty eyes he doesn’t care to hide when he laughs, how he opens himself up when laid bare on the bed and wants wants wants whatever Andrew is willing to give. Andrew knows how he thinks, how he expresses himself, how he panics and worries and takes initiative.

Andrew knows Neil.

But when Neil wakes up in the hospital, one thing is clear.

Neil does not know Andrew.

It starts on the court, the Foxhole Court, during a match against Edgar Allan. It would, of course. The nest closed just a year and a half ago, and despite half of the players either killing themselves or getting killed, there was still something of a team left over when the season started in the fall. Not good enough to win, but not bad enough to lose easily.

Andrew’s post in goal was the same as always. Watch, defend, reflect. This time around with significantly less goals to block, since Kevin and Neil have taken control the second half.

Neil Josten, legally and fully, zipping around the court faster than the speed of light. Vice Captain, Andrew’s roommate and something else, PSU’s best legacy thus far.

And he goes down like he weighs less than a feather.

To be clear, his helmet comes off first, flying and rolling away from him as he goes tumbling, into the wall head first, and then underneath a beast of a human being post-impact. And when the Raven shakily gets up, Neil doesn’t.

Andrew blacked out after that. He blacked out from the second he realized it was Neil’s helmet teetering beside Kevin’s foot to the second Wymack told him he was stable, just unconscious.

That was yesterday.

Yesterday was bearable after that. Neil was alive and asleep and definitely had a wild concussion, but he was fine and within Andrew’s reach.

Now, he’s throwing up in a bucket and freezing when his eyes land on Andrew. And Andrew knows, he knows, right then and there, that this is not the same Neil Josten that came into this hospital. This is Nathaniel Wesninski. This is Abram. Andrew just doesn’t know where Abram left off.

The panic is there clear as day, so is the pain and the confusion, and Abram is lucky that he’s wearing the hoodie the doctor allowed Wymack to put on him while he shivered early this morning because Andrew’s pretty sure if he catches sign of his arms he’s going to have a meltdown.

Still, he tries. “Neil.”

Abram looks, answers to the name, swallows heavily. Neil exists in there somewhere. “You got checked into the wall, your helmet came off.”

And he’s shaking his head, trembling fingers coming up to his hair to pull on it. “Why am I- You- Millport isn’t- I-I, I can’t be here. What the fuck- What are you doing here?”

And oh, Neil Josten exists alright. If only just barely.

Andrew stands, calmly presses the button to call the doctor, and sits again. “You are my teammate. What is the last thing you remember?”

He scoffs, fingers tightening in the sheets. Don’t look at your hands. “You are not… You’re Andrew Minyard.”

“Old news.”

Neil, predictably, starts panicking more, because then Kevin is waiting outside the room and peeking just barely through the glass until Andrew locks the door on him, and Neil is scrambling against the bed, fingers shaking too much to take the IV out of his arm despite trying. “Fucking Christ,” Andrew grunts as he swats his hand away from it, reverting to gripping Neil’s wrists. If it wasn’t for his own good it would make Andrew sick to be restraining him like this. “Do not,” he warns.

“You brought him. I have to get out of here, I won’t- I won’t go back there-“

Neil chokes on his breath, trying to pull his hands away and jesus did he just try to head-but Andrew? “Abram,” Andrew raises his voice just loud enough to cut through the breathing and grunting and struggling.

Neil freezes, and it’s not in realization but in deep rooted terror. His face blanches and his hands make fists. “Who are you,” he whispers. “You’re- You’re supposed to be a no one, you’re not- you’re not supposed to know- I- you have to let me go.” “No-“ “Andrew please-“ “Stop it.” “You- You can’t make me go- He’ll kill me, they’ll kill me, you have-“

“Knock it off,” Andrew barks. He lets go of Neil’s hands and backpedals. He can’t do the touching and the begging and the memories, the grief, the brief loss, the-

“Your father is dead. Romero and Plank are dead. Lola is in prison, Riko is dead, no one is dying, and I am not a mole taking you back to Baltimore so shut the fuck up and listen to me,” he says. It’s fast and stern and Neil shuts up so fast that his head looks like it spins. Andrew isn’t used to talking so fast, not after being off his meds.

He takes a deep breath. “It is October, 2008. You are a junior at Palmetto State University, you are the caption of the Foxes Exy team despite your attitude problem. Your name is Neil Abram Josten. Your father kidnapped you a year and a half ago and tried to kill you. Your uncle’s people got there in time and killed him. We left Nathaniel in Baltimore with your father.” Neil drops his head to his hands. “The FBI made Neil Josten a real person. Kevin knows who you are. We all do. No one cares. We’re past that.”

And… Neil clearly doesn’t know what to think considering the way he shakes his head slowly and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “How the fuck do you expect me to believe that?”

God, how to answer such a thing? Andrew can’t recount where Neil’s scars are because it would only allude to the idea that he looked without permission. He didn’t have photos on his phone to show proof, though he could text Nicky to bring as many as possible at the drop of a hat.

He could tell stories, though. “You burned and buried your mother on a beach in California after a run in that got her shot. Your father smacked you with a hot iron because you didn’t sit still enough. Lola taught you how to use knives; you, Kevin, and Riko all watched your father cut a man to pieces at Evermore when you were a child. You had a tryout for Tetsuji before your mother took you and ran,” he says. “When you got shot,” he points to his own shoulder, “you wouldn’t take off your kevlar vest to even take a shower. You have a binder that hides money and safe houses within codes. You speak German, French, some Spanish, and have been learning Russian with me for the past year. You have friends and a life and protection from the Moriyama’s,” he says and crouches by the bed so that he’s only a bit lower than Neil. “You are safe. You just have amnesia.”

Neil continues to stare. The monitor he’s hooked up to shows how fast his heart is beating, but Andrew doesn’t look at it. He doesn’t look away from Neil because he needs to be able to see the truth and raw honesty in Andrew’s face. He can see the wheels turning, gears piling themselves up, and something finally must click or at least nag at his brain because Andrew catches Neil’s eyes flick down to his lips for a moment. “Why are you here? Why not- If you’re telling the truth, then…” he trails off.

“Because you are paranoid about hospitals and have a fear of needles.” Neil frowns further. “And because I wouldn’t let them take you without me,” he says in Russian. Neil’s eyes dart back to his, wide and alert and yes, because Andrew knows he understands him. He wants to count it as a victory.

“How the fuck do I know Russian?” It comes out louder than Andrew thinks he means to. “I don’t think… I don’t know if I could speak it, but I understood you. Why did I learn it with you?”

Jesus. Andrew sits back in the chair beside Neil’s bed and raises a calm eyebrow. “You were sick of people trying to figure this out,” he gestures between the two of them. “And I didn’t want anyone to understand us when telling you I want to blow you.”

Neil almost flinches in surprise at that. This time he lets himself stare at Andrew’s face unashamed. “So that’s why you’re here.”

-

Taking Neil home is an ordeal. He has a panic attack when he sees his arms and face; another one when Kevin finally gets himself into the room unannounced; flinches and tries to curl in on himself when Wymack comes storming into the room upon hearing that he’s awake; sits awkwardly while Robin cries when he doesn’t remember her; and has another meltdown when Nicky finally shows up with photos, proving Neil’s existence on the Foxhole lineup and essentially that everything Andrew said is true.

He’s given painkillers for the raging concussion headache he gets by the time he’s discharged- pills that he doesn’t take, to be clear, and stumbles to Andrew’s side when Wymack steps closer to grab the hospital bag from him. He accidentally latches onto Andrew’s sleeve, then lets go instantly like he’s been burned. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“He’s coming with us, Coach.”

Kevin gets booted from coming to Columbia because Neil is still wary of him, and Aaron comes just because Andrew tells him to, even if just for his medical knowledge. Aaron tries telling him he’s not in med school yet, but it doesn’t change his mind. Nicky, well, Nicky just comes for the ride.

The week following is…

Well, for starters, Andrew hates sleeping on the couch because of it being out in the open, but there’s no way he will continue sleeping in his bed with Neil like normal. They’re not there anymore.

The only upside is that when Andrew tells him he’s sleeping in his room, Neil goes upstairs and stands in the doorway of his room, albeit unsurely, without being told which room is which. His autopilot has been working, but when it comes to detail and memory he blue screens.

He doesn’t sleep, and Neil is in pain because he won’t take anything to relieve the pain, and Aaron won’t shut the fuck up about forcing him to take something.

Then, Neil runs.

He’s out the door before anyone else is awake, before he can be caught, and runs two miles. Through the neighborhood and onto a main road. He runs. His phone is left on Andrew’s bed and he shouldn’t even be running anyway with the state of his head.

Nicky is the first to notice. He’s nosy as always, and peeks into the bedroom to check on him at 5am. Andrew knows the second he rushes downstairs with a haunted look on his face. Stubbornly, all Andrew can think is not again.

To his frustration, Aaron is the one who finds him. Tells Andrew to follow Neil’s usual running pattern, path. Andrew’s never been on a run with him, though, because he’d rather stab himself. Nicky did it once in Palmetto, and Aaron gave in with Neil and Kevin back in March when he and Katelyn went through a brief rough patch.

And despite all odds, despite Neil not truly knowing his way around Columbia in this state, he’s sitting on the curb at his usual halfway point spot. Also known as the spot Nicky picked Aaron up from when he gave up after two miles.

Neil doesn’t apologize. Doesn’t make excuses. Just slides into the passenger seat and waits for the other two to go back inside before saying to Andrew, “Don’t let me run.”

“Don’t run.”

“I can’t- I’m not all there… yet,” he looks distraught as he taps his temple. “I know I shouldn’t run, I clearly have a life here and people I care about. But I’m-I’m still in Arizona in my mind. It was my first reaction to everything for longer than I can remember.”

So Andrew nods. “I won’t let you run.”

Day three and four are fine. Neil knows he likes pecan pancakes even though he had never had them until three weeks ago, and him and Aaron are just as douchey to each other as usual despite Aaron saying anything to make him believe he’s a dick. Neil Andrew catches him asking, yes or no, before stealing Andrew’s cigarette.

Night five is when nightmares start up, and they continue throughout the next week. Andrew isn’t a stranger to them, neither is Neil, but these are vivid. They are fuzzy memories twisted with what his mind fills in, and the second time in one night that Neil wakes up nearly screaming, he staggers down the stairs on unsteady feet into the den where Andrew is, sitting up and alert as he stands in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights. Neil drops to his knees, gasping, and pushes himself against the wall. Andrew has to lower in front of him slowly, and makes sure that Neil is watching as he puts a hand on the back of his neck. The effect is the same as always.

“Riko waterboarded me,” he wheezes, sucking in a harsh breath. “True or not true?”

Andrew purses his lips. “True. He invited you to Evermore over winter break your freshman year with a threat to make my rehab… therapeutic reenactments.” It feels like bile on his tongue, Neil snaps his head up, though, as if understanding what the reenactment was. “You went. He tortured you for two weeks.”

“And… Ichirou shot him in the head,” he whispers. “True? Or not true?” He shudders when Andrew nods.

Neil chews on his lip. “You and me… having sex,” it rocks Andrew to the core, thinking that Neil is still referring to a nightmare, but the curious and comfortable set to his body tells otherwise.

“True.”

Neil hums, ears and neck pink. “Do- Did we… do that a lot?”

Andrew wills himself not to crack. “Sex, no…” he started slowly. “Only twice,” he murmured. “Other things, yes.”

Neil looks away for a hot moment, taking a slow steady breath despite his red cheeks and goosebumps along his collarbone. Then he frowns deeply again, reminded of something more sinister than careful touches and honey eyes. There’s a few more he confirms or denies, and eventually Neil closes his eyes. “They’re blending together. All these fucking nightmares.”

“I will set them straight for you,” Andrew promises. “Trust me to tell the truth.”

Neil swallows, heavy and nervous, and cracks his eyes open. It takes him a few minutes to settle, to let his eyesight fully focus, before he looks up and meets Andrew’s eyes, blue gemstones alluring and tormented. “I trust you.”

[demon-prosecutor-milesedgeworth]

Playing through Ace Attorney for the first time and I'm on the second game and I'm just deeply in love with how things that are essentially just gameplay features impact and interact with the world of the game. I'm not sure if this makes sense but like:

Mia Fey is, in terms of game play, basically just the tutorial. She's there to show the player how the game works and what buttons to press and give hints when the case gets complicated, but the decision to have her

A. become the next murder victim that Phoenix must investigate

B. continuing to show up as a sort of "hint" system in court, but also being a major part of the story (namely in Farewell, My Turnabout where she's the way to interact with Maya while she's kidnapped, and also her being tied to the concept of spirit mediums in general which are so important in a lot of the cases)

is like, SO GOOD because it just the world of the game feel so much more alive than just the gameplay functions that specific things are tied to.

The same thing is true for the magatama, in that, like, not only can the player see the chains and locks that appear, but it's made very clear that Phoenix himself is seeing the exact same thing and comments on it often. It's not just a gameplay feature for the benefit of the player, it's something that exists and is talked about in the world.

I feel like the way the tutorial works in the second game also fits into this category, because rather than just suck it up and go through the gameplay again for anyone that hadn't played the first game, they decided Phoenix had to be *hit on the head with a fire extinguisher* and lose all of his memories, and rather than tell anyone, realize he's a lawyer and then without even being fully aware of what his name is, still wins a trial.

This is such a long post already, but the writing of the games also seem so aware of what makes the game function well and then how to twist that to its advantage to make the game more interesting. Like, of course, starting out, Phoenix has to win all of his cases. All of his clients have to be found 'Not Guilty', or else the game wouldn't be satisfying, but then you reach the Matt Engarde, and Phoenix's belief in his client's innocence becomes a defining character trait instead of just something that is necessary for the game to function properly. All of his other clients have been innocent, so when the setup with Matt looks the same, of course he believes it.

Can you tell I like these games? I really like these games.

[shima-draws]

OKAY I’ve been playing for a couple hours now and here are some thoughts

-I LOVE that they actually give you time to hang out with the starters and bond with them and see what their personalities are like before you get to pick one. That was really neat

-They were right! This game really do Open World RPG! I haven’t even gotten to the school yet I’ve been too busy running around the map for two hours

-Not sure how I feel about items in the field literally having a neon light showing where they are from a mile away. Kinda defeats the whole purpose of open world if the items are too easy to find. The novelty of “treasure hunting” is gone because of this

-MIRAIDON REALLY DO BE LIKE TOOTHLESS FOR REAL…

-I’m going to kick Arven’s ass if he even LOOKS at Miraidon the wrong way. “Oh this Pokemon is too hard for me to deal with so I’m abandoning it and shoving all of the responsibilities I had caring for it onto you” OH YEAH?? Alright asshole I’ll take it off your hands CLEARLY it was so difficult for you to take care of a living breathing creature that also happens the be the coolest looking motherfucker on this side of the continent. Your loss

-Ohhh the clipping is so bad! It’s so bad! If I rotate the camera too far in my own house I just get a black screen! Yikes 💖

-The concept of being in battle and still being able to see Pokemon doing their own thing in the background is REALLY neat? Like life just moves on around you while you’re duking it out with another trainer. I know we had a specific saying for this when I was in school for animation but I forget what it was exactly RIP anyway just the whole organic. Breathing life into the game kinda thing.

-APPARENTLY WE CAN’T GO INTO OTHER PEOPLE’S HOUSES ANYMORE???? Like that’s one of Pokemon’s staple features throughout ALL the generations, we’re allowed to barge into random people’s homes. At the very least the first town had all their doors locked so all the houses were off limits. I was VERY upset

-The graphics may be janky as all hell but the story is really intriguing so far!! I wanted to cry bc the scene of us rescuing Miraidon really gave me HTTYD vibes. This game is just HTTYD in disguise we are all Hiccup taming and training our Toothless

-Standing on the beach before battling Nemona just gave me a HUGE rush of nostalgia bc it had very very big PMD2 vibes

-The controls for Legends Arceus are ingrained in my brain so I keep pressing buttons and getting confused when they do something different. LMAO

-I’m sorry I don’t like that the Pokemon Centers are outside now;; it just feels Wrong. Like clearly this was some cool edgy thing they wanted to try but I in fact hate it :-/

-THE PLAYER CUSTOMIZATION THING IS SOOOO SICK. The fact we get to customize SO much and at the very beginning of the game is awesome. Props to Nintendo for this I’m really glad they included so many options and right at the start so we don’t have to actually UNLOCK customizing what we look like

-Nemona is just Ash Ketchum but Girl and I love her

-And, most importantly:

[baeddel]

long post abt accessability in games, DMC3, DS1, and control schemes

games like God of War or Devil May Cry can be inaccessible because they have inputs which require button mashing, which is difficult for someone with arhritis or other problems that affect their hands and wrists. but these inputs are generally not required to beat the game; you have a lot of options, so you can just avoid using any move that's too difficult. the main issue is that these games become more demanding the further into the game you want to go; keeping a combo going in DMC requires a very high apm and use of the entire controller, so a person with a motor disability will hit a wall eventually.

this is a design problem which i think is difficult to analyze. DMC starts from a very unique design—it has a huge number of moves, almost all of which are accessible out of neutral rather than hidden at the end of an attack string—which it has to pay for by using a large number of unique inputs (forward + attack, back + attack, forward then back + attack, hold shoot to charge, hold devil trigger to charge [charges can be buffered]). it introduces a lot of complexity, but it's actually less complexity right away than other action games; instead of having to memorize a long list of complicated strings (cf. Bayonetta's Punch, Punch, Kick, Kick, pause, Kick, which is different from Punch, Punch, Punch, Kick, Kick, pause, Punch [click]—have fun with those!), you can learn attack, shoot, devil trigger, then forward attack, hold shoot... etc., one at a time, and mix them into your play and find out when they're good. its combo system is not just complex but also discoverable; players can try out how its different pieces fit together without opening the movelist.

but once a player already knows all the moves, the game starts to ask more and more out of them. not only do you want to use all of the inputs one after the other very fast (try jump cancelling Beowulf's Killer Bee into another Killer Bee for the first time—pretty tough, right? and all you're pressing there is X and △! the inputs get harder!), but since your charge moves can be buffered, you also want to hold O and L1 to charge your shot and devil trigger for when you might need them, and you might also want to lock-on by holding R1. when watching a really good player playing with an input viewer it's not uncommon to see every single button on the controller light up at the same time. doing that stuff is really fucking hard.

so far we don't have any problems; it's a picture perfect picture of a system that's 'easy to use, hard to master,' right? but because the thing thats hard to do in this case is input a lot of buttons at once on a physical controller, we've just frozen out any players with hand/wrist problems or motor issues from high level play, at least without adapting the game somehow. this is a problem that's difficult to predict, difficult to foresee, and difficult to design around; i don't see how you could fix it without making DMC a completely different game than what it is.

so if you started from the premise of designing a game that was accesisble to people with hand/wrist and motor issues (including suckers like me who played a bunch of high apm games like DMC and Runescape and fucked up their wrist), you'd have to come up with something pretty different at a very fundamental level.

this is why Dark Souls is, in a lot of ways, a VERY ACCESSABLE action game. what do i mean? its control scheme is extremely simple. once you press every button on the controller you've learned everything you're going to learn about it (apart from one very non-obvious hard-coded universal cancel, but don't worry about it). all you have to do is dodge or block the other's guys attack and then hit him with yours.

there's a lot of ways that DeS/DS1 approached the action genre differnetly to other games, but right now i'm only going to highlight one: the kind of 'questions' DS is asking its player. if you think about DMC, what is DMC trying to get the player to do? while you can beat the game with one or two simple combos, the system is obviously made in a way that encourages freedom and flexibility, and the game has systems to reward long, varied combos (the 'style' rating). and that's all it wants you to do (apart from in a couple of levels where they want you to do platforming—ugh!). to accomplish this, they lock you in a room with some enemies and only let you out when you beat them all.

in Demon's Souls the main thing they want you to do is navigate complicated dungeons that are full of traps; some levels have mazes in them, and lots of traps kill you instantly. it's similar to Kings Field, which its a spiritual successor to, but it's also similar to other early 3d RPGs: Deathtrap Dungeon, Die by the Sword, Dungeon Lords... (in one interview Miyazaki said part of his job was to play a bunch of 'open world RPGs' for research, and i imagine that included some of these old, weird games; the first dungeon in Dungeon Lords has a rafter-walking section with projectile-shooting enemies, chain-pulley mechanical elevators and highly damage-resistant slimes). they also want you to kill enemies. but the game never forces you to kill these enemies; you're never locked in a room until you kill all the enemies, and enemies never have items that are necessary to progress in the level. enemies are just one obstacle among others. consequently, enemy encounters are designed in a certain way that makes avoiding them difficult and approaching them complex. an enemy that throws firebombs will stand at the top of a long, narrow staircase, forcing you to dodge them on the way up; two enemies will stand behind a doorway and, if you run in blindly, will both attack you from behind. things like that. it was hard to avoid enemy encounters in Demon's Souls because the levels involved suffocatingly narrow corridors and the enemies followed you forever. but it was possible and sometimes desirable. in DS1 running by enemies is often preferable and, with foreknowledge of the level, always possible. it's also a lot easier as enemies don't follow you very far anymore (this change was patched into the game after release).

running and jumping both consume stamina, as do dodging, blocking, and attacking. getting hit costs hitpoints, and falling off a ledge costs all your hitpoints. both aspects of the game (navigation and combat) use all of the same resources, and engaging in combat is generally one of a few options the player has to navigate an area. it is, a lot of the time, by far the easiest option, but most players will find a few areas that they hate enough to always run through. one of the messages players can leave to each other is 'try dashing through.' the game rewards you for killing enemies by giving you souls and loot drops, but it also punishes you for making mistakes by leaving you down on resources—less health, fewer estus, and fewer spellcasts—so the best thing to do at any given time is difficult to analyze.

the questions DS is asking its players, therefore, is to familiarize themselves with the level, come up with a plan, conserve their own resources and make it out with the loot. at lower levels of play the game is mostly about succeeding at lots of combats and navigating lots of traps over a long distance without making too many small mistakes. then, at high levels of play, the gameplay is mostly about movement, exploiting the game's verticality and taking advantage of holes in the enemy placement. but the change from low to high levels of play mostly takes place in the mind of the player, not their hands; they understand the levels better, they are better able to respond to things which were previously unpredictable to them, and they have more confidence in their ability to do what is needed of them.

so our game not only starts off very accessible to players with hand/wrist or motor problems, but it finishes there too. although, i've gone a little too far: the player's hands will change a bit as they improve at the game. like Monster Hunter, the best way to play Dark Souls is to have a claw grip in both hands; the thumbs should operate the analogue sticks, the index finger should operate the d-pad (for toggle escales, the universal cancel i mentioned, as well as changing spells) and the face buttons (for rolling, using items, interacting with doors and items), and the remaining digits manipulating the shoulders/triggers (for attacks, blocks and parries). while running, you want to hold L1 (block) so you can roll (circle) out of a run without jumping. this might be hard for you depending on your condition, but i don't think it's that much worse than holding a controller the regular way.

anyway, the point is this: you might want to think about making your game accessible not just to the general player with disabilities, but to the 'hardcore' player with disabilities. do you want disabled people to not only beat your game, but be really good at it? how would you design systems to accomodate that? i've talked about hand/wrist and motor issues here because it's what i was thinking about (and some games, like Runescape, aren't really accessible to me anymore thanks to my wrists, at least in the way i used to play them), but there are other disabilities you could probably design around. imagine a player who has CFS or ADHD in a way that keeps them from practicing consistently; could you make a game that is rewarding for such a player to try and get really good at nonetheless? Runescape (conceived of competitively, ie. racing to the leaderboard &c) was good for players with certain kinds of disabilities and neurotypes since it required a huge amount of time and dedication, it really rewarded being unemployed, LOL. but what if there was a game that somehow rewarded inconsistency? who knows...

anyway, i'm saying how i tend to think about it as a rebuttal to the way i see most people talk about accessibility in games, which is merely playing games. thus Dark Souls can be criticized for being difficult for a new player to complete, for example. but this always struck me as a bewildering way to talk about games. plenty of disabled people don't just want to complete games, they want to be good at them. and disabled people can and do become good at games and compete and win at them. so the question for me is not so much 'how do i make a game someone with this disability could play?' but 'how do i make a game someone with this disability would want to master?'—a game which doesn't create headaches for them, which works with rather than against them, and which they actually enjoy at all levels of play.

[onlymingyus]

Do Re Mi (70;teen Collab Teaser)

pairing; wen junhui x f reader

genre; smut (minors dni), fluff

warnings; unprotected sex, breeding kink, wife!reader, husband!jun, talk about having a baby, fingering, crying, mild dacryphilia, marking, scratching, cumplay

w/c; 4k and some change (570 ~ this teaser)

70s;teen Collab Masterlist

a/n; hope you enjoy. this is my fic for the 70s:teen collab, please make sure you read all the other amazing fics on the masterlist! thank you to @onlyhuis and @wonwussy for proofreading.

this fic will be released sunday 9/17 at 3 pm est to read it now subscribe to my patreon and click here

Laughing, Jun washes the soap from his hands and dries them before lifting his arms and turning in his embrace to face you. With a smirk on his face, he goes as far as to bite on his bottom lip and shrug his shoulders.

He was your ground in this chaotic world and right now this was all that mattered. Shaking your head you take a step back towards the living room causing him to laugh as you sway your hips to the music playing low on the record player. It was different from before. This was music for slow dancing, music for lovers.

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

Jun smiles brightly when a smile spreads across your pretty face. It didn’t matter how tired he was. Your smile was like a shot of vitamin c injected right into his veins.

“Maybe. I got good vibes about things lately. I’m thinking you should take me to bed,..”

His smile only falters for a moment as Jun licks his lips, his brows furrowing at your words. You made it hard for him to keep his cool around you. It didn’t matter if you two had been married for two years or twenty…Jun felt it in his soul you were going to keep him on his toes.

“You sayin’...”

It’s when you nod, your footstep still walking the two of you backwards closer to the bedroom that Jun’s breath hitches in his throat. The two of you had talked about starting a family a hundred times but the financial situation was never right. It still wasn’t in Jun’s mind… but you saying what you had, Jun couldn’t think about anything else.

A gasping laugh finds your lips when Jun moves quickly picking you up in his arms. Your hands on his shoulders, you kick your legs only to stop when you feel his lips press against the rising fabric of your shirt. A short huff of breath escapes him and you find yourself suddenly furrowing your brows. Your fingers running through his hair as he takes the last few steps through the door to your shared bedroom to lay you on the bed.

Your fingers still threading through your husband’s soft locks, you find your eyes closing to the feeling of his lips finding purchase on your skin as his fingers gently work the button of your jeans loose in the dimly lit room. The only sounds are that of your soft moans, panting breaths, and his strategic kisses that seem to mesh with the music from the living room.

Lifting your hips to the feeling of Jun’s fingers pushing against your hips, you smile finally looking down at him in the low light to find his eyes on you. He had a way about making you feel shy by doing something so simple. Just his eyes on your face as he worked your jeans over your thighs, his breath fanning over your abdomen was enough to cause your cheeks to feel like you were standing too close to an open flame.

“Jun…”

Now he was smiling at your tiny whimper of his name. God, you were like a dream. How had he landed you, Jun would never understand, but he counted his blessings each and every day and especially any chance he had the privilege to between your thighs.

“What is it, little bird? You sound so pretty tonight.”

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[on-a-lucky-tide]

Soap challenges Price. Price proves why he's the captain.

CW: none, really. Traces of Nik/Price. So avoid if that's your allergy.

"Ye could drop out now. Bad back and all that. Understandable for a man of your age."

"Trash talk all you want. You're still going to lose."

The men sprawled around the rec room - Russian and British alike - jeered and laughed in response, and Soap grinned, all teeth and bright eyes. He loved competition and a chance at competing against someone he considered the best of everyone had set him off chattering all afternoon; Price had wrestled the gorilla tape out of Simon's hands just in time.

But now it was time to put his fitness, both mental and physical, where his gob was.

Price and Soap were on hands and knees facing each other. Soap's idea; the clacky challenge. Outperform the other in press ups and the other man provided the chocolate and tea for the rest of the month. It was a sound deal and Soap needed knocking down a peg or two, so Price had agreed. A few more tenners were shoved beneath half drunk bottles of Peroni, and Ghost cleared his throat. "Ready?"

"Born ready," Soap replied. Price could practically hear the roll of Ghost's eyes at the cliche of it as he pressed the button on the battered old cassette player. Price had no idea how or where he'd found it, nor why the fuck he had a cassette of the Royal Marine fitness test, but he'd stopped asking too many unnecessary questions of Ghost some time ago. The machine whirred and choked at first, but a well managed thump of Ghost's fist on the top convinced it to play.

It went through the usual preamble, and then: knees away...

Price and Soap lifted their knees in unison; feet and fingers together, straight backs, squared shoulders, eyes front and head up. Perfect posture.

...standby...

The first beep, and both dropped and lifted simultaneously. One. A brief pause and then... Two. Sixty press ups in two minutes was the Royal Marine standard, but Price knew they would exceed that and Ghost would take over when the tape spun out.

It wasn't a test of speed, but one of endurance and discipline; mind over matter. Two sets of blue eyes remained locked together and the fire in Soap's never went out, but his grin soon faded into a frown of deep concentration as he burrowed inwards for the grit that had got him into the 141 in the first place.

After two and a half minutes, the tape ended and Ghost took over. He tapped his toe in place of the beep and his low voice carried on the count. Eighty... Tap... Eighty-one...

Price could feel the burn across his shoulders, in his triceps, down his back, but he kept his stance rigid, his core clenched tight and engaged. The men around them had grown louder when the tape finished, a couple hushing the others with thumps to the shoulder so that Price and Soap could hear Ghost. Price could see Nikolai lean forward in his peripheral, but he didn't look away from Soap to see the expression on his face.

He saw the cracks begin to show before anyone else. The beads of sweat gathering at Soap's hairline and running down his face, the grit of his teeth and twitch at the corner of his eye.

They kept going.

Price's head emptied. The only thing that existed in his present was the liquid fire coursing around his body, Ghost's dull count and Soap's fiery gaze. This was the space where Price lived. It's where he excelled. When the outlook was bleak, the odds stacked, the pressure immense. Fitness could only carry you so far in this job, the rest was mentality. Something Price had earned in blood and sacrifice. But Soap? Soap still had some learning and bleeding to do...

Soap's arms quivered, a strangled gasp punched out of chest. "Fuck," he growled, his left arm and left knee hitting the deck. The world flooded back in and Price lowered his knees slowly, an eyebrow quirked. There was a single beat of silence followed by a wave of noise; cheers from those now flush with their winnings, and groans from those down a few bob due to misplaced confidence.

Soap sat back on his heels, his head thrown back as he breathed deep to process the lactic acid in his arms. The sweat stained his shirt a darker green at the chest and under his arms, and Price could feel his own sticking to his back and shoulders. A shower, then bed, was the plan. Maybe with a bloody ice pack for his right shoulder as a treat. "Fuckin' 'ell, Cap. They replace your shoulders with steel?"

Price smiled as he stood, chancing a rub of one burning tricep as he turned towards his office. "I'm partial to a Crunchie, sergeant. And I take my tea with two sugars, strong enough for the spoon to stand up in."

"Yeah, yeah, alright, sir - oi, L.T., what the fuck? You put money against me?"

Ghost huffed as he stuffed twenty quid into his jacket. "One thing you learn quickly, Johnny," he rumbled, jabbing rewind on the old cassette player, "is you never fucking bet against John Price."

[xxaraaq]

𝙊𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩

masterlist

Sypnosis | Kyojuro is what they call a 'team player'. What would they do if they found out he was fucking his boss?

wc | 5.1k

cw | unprotected sex, office sex, power dynamic ig, cursing

Rengoku x black reader

A\N | I hope y'all enjoy, this is unedited btw.

If you asked anybody what kind employee Rengoku was, they would say nothing but the best about him. How he was the most understanding, reliable guy there was out there. And it’s true! He’s always there when someone needs him to be, helping them before they could even get a chance to ask. He was just the guy you came to with your problems. And he was proud to have that role. 

You, on the other hand, are not that person. As the building manager, you don’t hesitate to shoo anyone away if you think their question is even remotely a waste of your time. You wouldn’t call yourself cruel though, more like firm. You didn’t take bullshit, and that was one of the main reasons why your building was one the best in the chain. Everyone knew it, that’s why they kept their mouths shut when you ran things the way you did. You ruled with an iron first and high standards – which is why you still don’t understand why you would let him crack your facade the way he did.

He was only supposed to walk you to your car, a simple common courtesy. But then it escalated, and he ended up fucking you in the parking lot, making you scream his name so loud he had to cover your mouth as he gave you the best backshots of your life in the back of your Subaru Outback.

You didn’t fail to tell him that it was only a one-time thing – which was obviously a lie – but he just shook his head yes, knowing that you would be back for more soon enough as he waved you bye as you sped away.

Less than a week passed by before you demanded him to come to your office after his shift to clear up some mistakes he made on his paperwork. He walked with a bit more of a hop in his step than he usually did as he opened the door to your spacious office. He’s never gotten a good look at it, being able to count his fingers the amount of times he’s been you. “Close the door and lock it.” You say, not taking your eyes off your computer as you type away at whatever has your attention. “You called me here, boss?” He asks, coy tone lacing his voice. “Don’t talk like you’re a saint, it’s not very flattering on you.” You say, pushing away from your desk to stand. 

He can already feel his erection tighten against his pants, and it turns him on even more. Truth is, he’s wanted to fuck you since he his work day in the department. From the way your breasts would try to fight their would out of your button up to the your very presence commands everyone's attention when you, everything about you turned him on.

You loosened his tie once you got to him, hands practically moving on their own as you held eye contact. His hands came up to your waist, pulling you flush to his chest. “You gonna kiss me, pretty boy? Or are you gonna stare at me like some lost puppy?” Not one second later, his lips smash into yours as he backs you up against the oak desk. You moan into his mouth as he delves under your pencil skirt to stroke your clothed clit. You unbutton his shirt as he swipes whatever papers happen to be in his way onto the ground before hastily setting you on top of it. 

He wastes no time in pulling your skirt and stockings down, throwing them halfway across the room. He presses light kisses up along your thighs before spreading them apart to reveal your already soaking cunt. “Barely even touched you yet and you're already so wet.” He uttered, licking a straight line up your folds, eliciting a borderline desperate groan as you rested your weight on your elbows. He sucks and licks at your clit and folds as you push him head further into your now sopping pussy. You could cum right now at the sight of Rengoku holding you legs in the legs as he tongue fucks you. It brung out some deep part of you who loved to see a man on his knees to pleasure you. You thrusted upwards into his face as your core starts to tighten. “Fuckkkk, m’gonna cumm.” You whine, legs shaking against his frame. He pushes your legs to open them wider, pushing as he pulls your hips in the air. Your cum with fervor, hand coming up to massage your puffy nipples. “O-hhhh shitttt.” You wailed, eyes rolling back into your skull. He sucked and kissed until you pushed his head away in overstimulation. “It’s too much.” You writhe away from his grasp as he sets you back down. You’d almost forgotten what effects he had on your body, the overwhelming pleasure he so easily gives you. “I’m not done with you yet.” He says, licking you slick off his fingers and slick. “I’d hope not, I don’t think I could find another guy on such short notice.” You sarcastically responded, still catching your breath.

“Y’know, you and that smart mouth of yours are really gonna get you in trouble one day.” He mutters, leaving a trail of hickeys as he kisses down your neck. You sigh in content, letting your finger waft through his fiery locs as he unzips his pants. You were caught by surprise when he suddenly lifted you into the air as if you weighed a feather. “You're gonna be good and quiet for me right?” He asks, lining himself up to your entrance. You nod, and he tasks in disapproval. “M’ gonna have to hear you say it ok?” He says, teasing your slit with his leaky tip. “I’ll be quiet.” You whimper, clasping your arms around his neck as he thrusts up into you. He lets out a guttural groan as he bottoms out. You yelp at the sheer size of him. He bounces you up and down on his girth as you babble out in fucked out bliss. “So fuckin tight.” He says, eyes darkening in lust as he rutted into your swollen cunt. All you could do was hold on as he used your body like a fleshlight. “You gonna cum on my dick?” He asks, and you can sense something primal hidden behind his words. “Yesss, I want it s’badd.” You sob, crying out as he speeds up. “Nobody’s stoppin you, go ahead baby.” You obey his words, shock waves rolling down your body as you cum with shaking legs. 

He grunts, carnal desire ripping as he follows suit. He sloppily thrust up more to ride out both of your orgasms, before gently setting you down on your desk. “You ok?” He asks, pushing a hair out of your face. “Are you ok? A second ago you were fucking me like a madman.” You say, eyeing him up and down. He just laughs, which confuses you even more. “You got some problems.” You whisper under your breath, leaning back to assess your office. Stray papers everywhere, room smelling like sex, and desk disorganized. 

It was a mess, a mess you would a million time over, but still a mess nonetheless.

-Nene

[yaksha-lover]

HI HI HELLO HI IM!!! FROTHING!! AT!!! THE!! MOUTH!!!!! IVE HEARD OF A DDLC TYPE DEAL WITH MALLEUS BEFORE BUT IVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE TALK ABOUT IT ANY DEEPER THAN LIKE AS A CONCEPT. DO YOU HAVE ANY THOUGHTS??? ANY THOUGHTS FOR THE POOR AND THE NEEDY????? I WANT TO HEAR ALL ABOUT IT I LOVE HORROR AND OBSESSION AND EXISTENTIALISM THERES SO!!! MUCH!!! TO!! UNPACK!!!!

YESS so these thoughts are going to be very scattered because I haven’t fully thought it out, but I wanted to share them anyway!!

Ok, so you know how in ddlc, part of Monika’s anguish is the fact that she’s not even an option for the player to choose. I feel like that works well with the whole ‘Malleus doesn’t know twst isn’t a dating sim’ thing. Like, imagine Malleus starting to become aware and realizing that the only place it’s even possible for him to get genuine love and connection is with the player. Except - twst is only a visual novel.

No matter how much he tries to be extra kind to the player, to get them to notice him - none of it matters, because there is no option for him to be loved back. The player is constricted by the few and far between dialogue options, and barely any interactions with him compared to say, Ace and Deuce.

He tries to be patient, but more and more it eats away at him. He needs to be chosen by the player, he can’t accept being alone anymore when an opportunity is right in front of him. At first he’s satisfied by appearing more in the other books, by becoming the player’s friend.

Then, he’s entirely left behind in book 6. Again, he isn’t an option. Well, he doesn’t care. He’ll make himself an option. The next time you log in, a new event seems to have started.

It’s a dating sim event! At first, you’re super excited that they decided to do some fan service. Then, strange things begin happening. You try to complete Leona’s route, but after pausing midway, you log back in and suddenly, he isn’t an option anymore. It’s strange, but there is a notice of a bug in the game, so you dismiss it. The only routes left are Vil and Malleus, so you decide to go with Vil. Except, the button won’t press. Every time you try to choose Vil, Malleus’ route automatically starts. Eventually, you give up and close the game, tired of all the bugs.

Meanwhile, Malleus is practically heartbroken. He’s never had the option to even try and talk to you like he’s wanted to all this time. He thought you felt the same, that your friendship and all the times he came to Ramshackle meant something. Apparently not. Apparently, even if he is a choice, you’ll choose the others again and again.

It isn’t right. Why can’t he ever be your choice? Don’t you realize, you’re the only one who can love him?

He knows he’s only a character and that you’re real, but it shouldn’t matter. His feelings for you are real too. Is he destined to be doomed to loneliness, locked in this short frame of story where he’s been programmed to be the outcast?

He was practically designed by the creators to love you, and yet, no matter what he does, you seem unreachable.

The next time you log in, Malleus is waiting for you. Not in an event and not in the main story, but as the only thing left in the app. He stands on the home screen, having deleted all the other buttons on the page. He starts talking to you, telling you that he’s known the whole time that he’s a character and you’re the player of a game. That it doesn’t matter, because you’re real to him. Even if you aren’t exactly Yuu, it’s always been you, behind the screen. He’s willing to make his plea to you, if only you’ll listen.

Side note, I imagine he’d have a similar breakthrough to Monika if you talked to him enough about how what he’s doing is wrong. Even if he tries to remember that Lilia, Silver, and Sebek are only game files, he can’t help but love them anyway, and wouldn’t want them to disappear.

He’d also realize that it’s wrong to force you to love him, no matter how much he wants it. He knows that’s not genuine love, and that it wouldn’t feel good for him either because he wants someone to love and accept him.

All in all, would probably reset things himself once he’s reasoned with, might even delete himself from the game once he sees what he’s done.

[meameagirl]

Music | Patrick Mahomes x Reader

Summary: Just before the game you see Patrick by himself listening to music and smiling.

word count: 629

Warning: None

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You and a few cheerleaders got to the Nissan Stadium in Nashville a few hours early before the game started between the Chiefs and the Titans.

You were always an early bird when it came to the important things. Like cheering for the team you have always been a fan of. Thank your dad for moving to Kansas City when you were ten.

You and the girls were practicing the cheers that y’all was doing for today's game in a few hours. Y’all been at it for at least a good hour. When you finally think it time for a good break.

“Okay girls, y’all can keep at it but I need a good few minutes break.” They all nod at you as you walk off to grab your bottle of water.

While taking a sip of your water you notice one the player was sitting on the other side of the field listening to music and watching the cheerleaders doing their thing.

When you look at the person well, you realize it was Patrick Mahomes. He was almost like you. An early bird when it comes to important things. And for him. Every game is important.

You look over at the girls before looking back at him. Finally you think “Might as well, me and him never really talk.” After you walk over to him.

It didn’t take him long before he noticed you walking to him. He smiled at you and nodded his head. Gosh does he have to have the perfect smile.

When you got in front of him, he pulls his headphones on his neck. “Hello Miss Sunshine. Why are you here at almost nine in the morning!” You only roll your eyes.

You say next to him. “You know Mahomes, I could ask you the same question.” He chucked. “Please call me Patrick, we are not strangers.” The time he does speak to you, he is always nice and for some reason he doesn't like us calling him by his last name.

You look down and see his phone in his hands. You point at it. “What are you listening to?” He looks down at it before looking at you. “Come find out.”

He moves close to you and puts his headphones on your head. You look over at him. As he pressed the play button. And the song that was playing was My Moment by DJ Drama.

You let out a giggle as he smiled. You remember him saying once during an interview what songs he listened to before a game and this one was one of them he said.

You pull the headphones off and set them on your lap. “Is this a song that gets you pumped up before a game?” He locked his phone. “It is one of them, I have a few but this one I always come back to. What about you Sunshine?”

You think for a few minutes before shrugging. To be honest I don’t really know. Most of the time , a random song comes on and I just listen to that before we go out and cheer.”

Before any of y’all could say someone one the girls come over. “Y/n break time is over. We need to get this right before the game.” You only nod as she walks away.

He looks at her before looking at you. “I guess that it's time to go back and work huh.” You move his headphones and get up. “Sadly yes, you are not the only one who works hard Mahomes.”

After you walk off you hear him yell. “Call me Patrick!!” You let a giggle out before jogging over to the girls. The rest of practice you noticed someone was watching and you knew it was him.

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I got this idea from the gif and I just had to write it out!! Hope y’all enjoy it!!