#I like this so much I can not coherently explain myself

[meatsubstances]

Wow teehee I like this a normal amount. Rad cool.

THESE INSATIABLE ASPIRATIONS MAKE ME WHOLE

GAH !!!!! This was a final project for one of my classes, I went a bit freaky with it teehee. absolutely loved how it turned out the collage part was SO fun to do

close ups and details under cut :)

[peapod20001]

I’m the type that can and will cry if think too hard <3

[forlorn-plushie]

Styles of Prep - Games that Care

Yet another of the lies that Wizards of the Coast has sold TTRPG players, which they've bought into wholeheartedly, is that there are different styles of preparation, and all are valid for every game (because both are valid for D&D, and D&D is right for every game, of course.)

I'm gonna go over a couple games I've run, and explain that actually they all care about the type and level of preparation the GM does.

Indie games are often honest and open about what they want. To take a high-prep example, I recently ran Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy. It is not subtle! In the narrator section, right after the introduction, it says "We cannot advise you strongly enough to use prewritten adventure modules". It's not just there - throughout the rules, there's an emphasis that the situation, the state of the world at the outset and thus at every time that follows, is known and rigid. Eureka is a mystery game - the who, what, how, why, and more are all set in stone. The narrator is forbidden to change the scenario on the fly.

Eureka is very forceful of this because the authors, writing a game for mystery investigations, are well aware that it's damn near impossible to make a coherent mystery up on the fly. I'm sure they've tried. I've tried. It's impossible. Something will contradict, and you won't notice until well after the players have reasoned from that contradictory information. It can be done, but not well, and the mental load on the GM is going to kill them.

It's not a genre thing - Eureka is a game about the act of solving mysteries, but so in Brindlewood Bay. I don't have experience with Brindlewood Bay myself, but I do know that the GM doensn't have a real mystery ahead of time - there's a move which is rolled to determine whether a theory is correct. Both are mystery games, but they approach them differently - and each makes a vastly different demand of the GM's preparations.

On the opposite end of the spectrum from Eureka, more in line with Brindlewood Bay in fact, is just about every Powered by the Apocalypse game. Apocalypse World is very clear about what to prepare, and it's more or less the opposite of Eureka: "Daydream some apocalyptic imagery, but DO NOT commit yourself to any storyline or particular characters."

The rules actually tell you to start on what would typically be 'prep' during the first session: "Work on your threat map and essential threats". It's more like note-taking, at that point, just placing the names of stuff that gets mentioned in the session. After that first session, and between each other, you do some real out-of-session work, solidifying the notes you made into Threats.

I won't go into it at length, but Dungeon World is much the same - though there's no 'map' for threats, as characters are expected to be far more mobile, the system of solidifying problems that were mentioned in-game into problems with some mechanically attached descriptors is much the same.

Now, on to the elephant-sized dragon in the room - Dungeons and Dragons. The game itself is, truthfully, quite honest about this. It's the marketing team and the community, having fallen for their propaganda, who pretend low-prep is a valid way to play Dungeons and Dragons.

The 2014 DMG, correctly, focuses on prepared play. It asks DMs to consider "Do you like to plan thoroughly in advance, or do you prefer improvising on the spot?", but everything in that book is either rules text or preparation guides. Mostly the latter.

D&D, as it has existed since 3rd edition, (this is what I have experience with - I can't speak to earlier editions, except to note that there are alot of modules in their time and in the OSR tradition) is a game that thrives on prep. Even if that prep is procedural - tables of encounters and wandering monsters for an area, for example - it's impossible to run the game from nothing, without a lot of background, and have it work.

Imagine not knowing D&D, at all - you pick it up, read the non-list rules (so skipping most of the classes, races, spells, feats, backgrounds, weapons, etc) in the PHB and DMG, and try to run a game entirely improv from the rules and vibes. You'd quickly end up scouring the monster manual for appropriate encounters - and the game, by the rules, demands appropriate encounters! There's a budget system! It's a game about killing monsters and does a lot of math to try and make sure it's challenging without killing player characters.

D&D, at least in the books, is pretty honest about what it wants from preparation. It wants a lot! The playerbase pretends otherwise, but they're wrong. I've yet to find another game that tries to lie like this. Eureka wants you to use modules. Apocalypse World wants you to wing it. I have yet to find any game that actually doesn't care.

[cosmiclily]

.ᐟchapter seven: what’s the rush? kissing, then my cheeks are so flush

wc: 2.2k

you

are you home? can we please talk?

vi ♥️

be home in 10

On my way home from the coffee shop, I tried to put my thoughts in order, rehearsing how I would explain to Vi why I’d been such an asshole to her lately and why I’d been avoiding her. It felt impossible to string together a coherent explanation that didn’t involve blurting out the whole messy truth.

Because that truth? It went something like this: "So, I have feelings for you. And you're the most amazing, beautiful, kind, loving human being in the world. And I’ve been too scared that if I told you I love you, you’d hate me forever. Because, let’s be honest, you’re incredible, and I wouldn’t deserve you in a million years."

Yeah, that wasn’t happening. As much as I wanted to say it, as much as the words were clawing at my throat to be let out, I knew better. The stakes were too high, and I wasn’t willing to lose her completely if things didn’t go the way I hoped.

I exhaled sharply, trying to push away the familiar ache in my chest. I just needed to focus on fixing things. I needed to make her understand that I cared about her—even if I couldn’t say exactly how much—and that I didn’t want to keep hurting her.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter what I said, Vi would be pissed at me. I’d earned that much. It would probably take time—maybe a long time—for me to gain her trust back. But as long as I could get through this conversation still being her friend, I’d count it as a win.

I glanced up at the darkening sky as I approached the apartment building. A part of me wanted to turn around and run—find some excuse to delay this conversation for another day. But I knew I couldn’t keep running. Jinx was right. Things were spiraling, and if I didn’t face this now, I was going to lose Vi anyway.

When I finally reached our floor, I hesitated in front of the door, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to steady myself before stepping inside.

The apartment was quiet, and for a moment, I thought Vi wasn’t home yet. But then I saw her, sitting on the couch with her legs tucked underneath her, scrolling aimlessly on her phone. Her expression was neutral, but there was a tension in her posture that hadn’t been there before.

She glanced up when she heard me, her eyes meeting mine. And just like that, the words I’d rehearsed a hundred times on the way home evaporated from my brain.

"Hey," she said, her tone guarded.

"Hey," I replied, my voice unsteady. I stood there awkwardly, clutching the strap of my bag like it might anchor me to the ground.

Vi raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for me to say something more.

“I... we need to talk,” I finally managed, my throat dry.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded and set her phone down. “Yeah, we do.”

The weight of the moment pressed down on me as I moved to sit across from her. This was it. No more excuses, no more hiding. It was time to finally lay my cards on the table—even if it wasn’t all of them.

“I—” I started, but my voice caught in my throat. I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down, even as my heart raced uncontrollably. My head was spinning, and I couldn’t seem to find the right words. “I wanted to start off with... I’m sorry. It’s not your fault that I’ve been distant lately. I wanted to make that clear. You did nothing wrong.”

My voice wavered as I forced myself to look into her eyes. It was terrifying, but I knew I had to face her. I braced myself for anger, disappointment—anything that could mirror the chaos inside me. But what I saw was so much worse: hurt. It was written all over her face, raw and unguarded, and it made my stomach twist painfully.

“Then why?” she asked, her voice quiet but laced with pain. “What happened for you to treat me like that?” Her words were like a dagger, each syllable cutting deeper than the last. She wasn’t yelling or angry; it was like it physically hurt her to say them.

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her gaze on me. “I—I didn’t mean to hurt you, Vi,” I said, my voice cracking. “I thought... I thought distancing myself would help. I thought it would make things easier. But I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

“Help with what?” she asked, her brow furrowing. There was frustration creeping into her tone now, but it was overshadowed by the lingering hurt. “You don’t just push someone away for no reason. I don’t understand, and I’m trying so hard to, but you’re not giving me anything.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words got caught again. How could I explain this without ruining everything? Without shattering the delicate balance of our friendship? But then I remembered what Jinx had said—about how we were already falling apart—and I knew I couldn’t keep avoiding the truth.

“It’s because of me,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s because of the way I feel about you.”

Her eyes widened slightly, confusion flickering across her face. “The way you feel about me?” she repeated, like she needed to hear it again to make sense of it.

I nodded, gripping the edge of my seat so hard my knuckles turned white. “I... I’m in love with you, Vi,” I said, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. “I’ve been in love with you, I think, my whole life. From the moment you walked into Vander’s house that first day with your uneven bowl cut and those blue eyes. I didn’t understand what I was feeling—and honestly, I still don’t,” I let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. “But I knew, even then, that you were it. You were everything. And when I finally understood that those feelings were love, I got scared. Scared that if I told you, it would ruin everything. Scared that you’d hate me, or that you’d feel like I wasn’t enough, like I couldn’t ever be enough.”

Her expression softened, her shoulders relaxed slightly, but she didn’t say anything. The silence felt like it stretched for an eternity, deafening in its weight. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might shatter my ribs, and I could feel the heat of tears threatening to spill over.

“I tried to push you away,” I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. “Because I thought it would be easier. I thought I could bury how I felt, and we could just go back to how we were. But I was wrong. I know you don’t feel the same way, and I’m not asking you to. I just—” My voice cracked, but I forced myself to keep going. “I just want to go back to being your friend. I hate what I’ve done, how I’ve hurt you, and I hate myself for—"

And then it happened.

I was cut off mid-sentence as her lips pressed against mine. For a moment, I froze, my mind blank and my body completely still. What was happening? My brain struggled to catch up, replaying the last few seconds on a loop as if trying to convince me that it was real.

Her hands came up to cup my face gently, her thumbs brushing against my cheeks, grounding me in the moment. The kiss wasn’t rushed or forceful—it was soft, tentative, like she was giving me the space to decide if I wanted to pull away. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

When I finally remembered how to move, I kissed her back. Tentatively at first, like I was afraid the moment might shatter if I leaned in too much. But then her fingers threaded through my hair, pulling me closer, and everything else—my doubts, my fears, the pain of the past few weeks—faded into nothing. All that mattered was her, the feel of her lips on mine, the warmth of her touch, the way she made me feel like I wasn’t just enough, but everything.

When she finally pulled back, I was breathless, my heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst. Her forehead rested gently against mine, and she let out a shaky laugh. “You really are an idiot,” she said, her voice soft but filled with something I couldn’t quite place.

I blinked, still reeling. “What?”

“I’ve been in love with you, too,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “Probably just as long as you’ve been in love with me. But I didn’t know how to say it. I thought... I thought you didn’t see me that way. So I kept it to myself and convinced myself it was better that way.”

“Vi...” I whispered, barely able to believe what I was hearing.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she continued, her voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t mean to. I just... I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

I let out a shaky laugh, tears finally spilling over as I pulled her into a tight embrace. “We’re both idiots,” I said, my voice muffled against her shoulder. “But maybe we can stop being idiots now. Maybe we can just... figure it out together.”

She nodded, her arms tightening around me. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Together.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on my chest lifted. It wasn’t perfect, and I knew we’d have to figure out how to navigate this new, uncharted territory. But in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was her, and the knowledge that I wasn’t alone in this anymore.

As we sat there, holding each other like the world outside didn’t exist, I felt a warmth spread through me that I hadn’t felt in what felt like years. It was strange how something as simple as the truth could be both terrifying and liberating. For so long, I’d been convinced that my love for Vi would only ever live in the shadows, something to bury and ignore. And now, here she was, holding me like I was something precious. Like she had been waiting for this moment as much as I had.

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her hands still resting gently on my cheeks. “You really had me worried, you know?” she said, her voice softer now, her usual tough edge smoothed out. “When you started avoiding me, I thought I’d done something wrong. I thought I’d lost you.”

I shook my head quickly, my hands gripping hers like they were a lifeline. “You didn’t lose me, Vi. You could never lose me. I was just... scared. Of everything. Of you finding out and hating me, of ruining what we had. But I was stupid, and I hurt you in the process.”

“You were stupid,” she said with a small laugh, her lips curving into that familiar smirk that made my heart flutter. “But I guess I can forgive you. Just this once.”

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips anyway. “You’re so generous.”

She grinned, then her expression softened again, her gaze turning serious. “But seriously, no more of this avoiding each other bullshit. If something’s wrong, we talk about it. Pinky promise?” She said showing me her pinky

I nodded, my throat tightening. “Pinky promise.”

Her fingers brushed against my cheek, and I leaned into her touch instinctively, like I’d been doing it my whole life. “Good,” she said softly, her thumb tracing small circles on my skin. “Because I don’t want to waste any more time, you know? We’ve spent so long dancing around this, pretending it wasn’t there, but... I’m done pretending.”

“Me too,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “No more pretending.”

She smiled then, a real, genuine smile that made her eyes light up in that way I loved. And before I could say anything else, she leaned in and kissed me again. This time, it felt different—less hesitant, more certain. Like we’d both finally decided to stop running from the inevitable.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly. “So, what now?” I asked, my voice light but genuine. “What happens next?”

Vi leaned back against the couch, pulling me with her so I was tucked against her side. “Well,” she said, her arm draped casually around my shoulders, “I think we figure it out as we go. No pressure, no rush. Just... us.”

“Us,” I repeated, the word feeling strange but wonderful on my tongue. “I like the sound of that.”

“Good,” she said with a grin, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Because I’m not letting you get away now.”

We stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other and talking about everything and nothing all at once. For the first time in weeks—no, months—I felt like I could finally breathe. The weight of my unspoken feelings was gone, replaced by something warm and hopeful and new.

And as I drifted off to sleep that night, curled up next to Vi on the couch, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, everything was finally going to be okay.

──────────────────────

chapters - chapter six

notes: finally!!!! i love me some “we have been in love with each other the whole times and we’re both too dumb to realize”

it’s been a journey with this fic for me, bc it’s the first time i had the courage to post anything that i wrote, thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed it !!!!

[getaapologist]

I shouldn't even request because I'm too much of a creature of habit, but I'll never stop wanting both Geta and Caracalla to get some love (they're touchstarved and desperately need affection)!!!!

A/N: In my writer's block, I tried to write something different. So here's a little Caracalla? I'm not sure how to write him yet, but I just needed to write SOMETHING or I'd lose my mind. I will return to Geta as soon as I can. Hope you get something out of this! Hopefully I will be back to writing your regularly scheduled programming soon.

Copper hair. Seafoam eyes. A wide grin. 

An apology tumbled from your lips. You knew you should not be here. But with the hour so late, surely he should have been asleep. Not in the gardens. No, at night, this was your haven.

And yet.

“Please, don’t mind me,” he spoke, his words both hurried and unhurried at the same time. Like he was scrambling to form thoughts as quickly as he could, as coherently as he could, before he lost them. But he wasn’t used to living his life at anything other than a snail’s pace.

“The hour is late, Emperor,” you noted, asking the question without asking.

There was a flash of something in his eyes. His grin slid wider. 

“Dondus,” he answered. As if that explained everything.

“Emperor?”

He looked up, much higher above, and your eyes followed, a screech announcing the reason for the surprise visitor to the gardens.

“Dondus,” he repeated, clarifying.

“Oh.”

The monkey flitted about, hopping from branch to branch gracefully, at home in the treetops. 

“Sometimes this is what it takes to get Dondus to sleep,” Caracalla explained, taking a few steps forward. “Too cooped up, I guess.”

“I can understand that.” 

You could. It sounded uncomfortably familiar.

“You are also up late…” he said, also asking without asking.

Heat filled your face. Head bowed slightly, your hands squeezed each other before you. “I–It’s too warm in our quarters, Emperor. For me, anyway. I cannot sleep.”

Who am I to burden an Emperor with these small problems?

“Too warm? Do you not have a window?”

Embarrassed, as if you had built the palace yourself, you shook your head ‘no.’

His brows furrowed. Confusion. Indignance.

“It is an interior room,” you added, as if to ease his reaction.

He said nothing more about it, but he was visibly occupied with the information.

Standing there awkwardly, you allowed yourself to look upon him. He wasn’t an intimidating figure, not like his brother, and it added to his unusual charm. He appeared much younger than his brother, despite them being the exact same age. Down to minutes. Minutes that made all the difference, it seemed.

He was cute, in his own way. Like Cupid, youthful and meddlesome. The story of Cupid and Psyche came to mind, but you pushed it away just as quickly. He was an Emperor. Not someone to have daydreams about. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, interrupting your thoughts.

Embarrassment filled you. You scrambled to piece words together in a way that wouldn’t offend or betray your true line of thinking.

“You are not what I expected.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, my brother does his absolute best to portray me as some monster,” he frowned.

Panic, concern. “That is not what I meant, Emperor. I only mean… you are… charming.”

A large smile spread across his face. A glint in his eye. Pink dusting the tops of his cheeks and ears. 

He was blushing.

“What is your name?” 

His question did not frighten you as it could have. He sounded genuinely curious. 

You provided him with your name quietly, cautiously, as if it was some secret. Even as he repeated it, it felt forbidden.

“I imagined you as more of a ‘Luna’ myself,” he admitted. 

Whatever gave him that notion, you couldn’t pretend to know. But it seemed so very Caracalla. 

Glancing up overhead, you could see the moon looming large, bright and full, in the sky. 

“Uh, I am sure you may call me whatever you like, Emperor.”

“Good,” he beamed, approaching you. “What do you do here?”

It felt wrong to be looking upon him, to be holding a conversation like this with an Emperor. But the flicker of excitement that bloomed with each passing second couldn’t be denied.

“I work in the kitchens.”

He brightened at that. “So I have you to thank for our delicious meals?”

You quickly dispelled that notion. “No, no, I am no great cook, Emperor–”

“Caracalla,” he corrected.

“I–what?”

“We are friends by now, surely,” he chuckled. “The ‘Emperor’ stuff is so boring.”

This felt so significant. And yet, it seemed like no big deal to him. As if he were just exercising a preference and not doing away with a layer of formality.

“I, uh, I prepare some ingredients, Caracalla. In the kitchen.”

“A noble task. Someone must. I’m glad it is you.”

Heat fills your face at his warm praise. To feel such a thing is dangerous. Because you will never want it to stop.

Caracalla laughed as Dondus leapt out of the tree and sought purchase on his shoulder, tiny hands grabbing the cloth there tightly. 

“That is our cue, I believe, mea luna. It was nice meeting you.”

“It was also nice meeting you, Caracalla.”

And it was. He was quite different from how you expected, with how his brother fretted over him. Perhaps a little unusual, but you didn’t mind that at all.

“Mea luna,” he smiled, “I’ll keep your secret.”

“My secret, Emperor?”

A wink before he turned, walking out of the gardens.

“Wait, Emperor!” you called out. “What secret?”

You got no answer.

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Torn Stuffing

I stumble as I walk down the hallway, my feet tripping over themselves as I fall against the wall. It’s nothing serious—just a little misstep—but as I push myself up, my sleeve shifts, revealing the faint red lines trailing up my arm.

I barely even notice, but the sudden gasp from Charlie makes me blink in confusion. I glance over at her, but before I can say anything, I feel Vaggie’s hand on my wrist, jerking it up to reveal the stitches clearly. My heart skips a beat, but I smile. Alastor always patches me up, it’s just another one of those things I’ve learned to look forward to. His touch is always so gentle, and I can’t wait to feel those soft threads working their magic once more.

I look at Vaggie, my smile wide and innocent. “It’s okay, Vaggie. Alastor’s just been fixing me up again,” I explain cheerfully, excitement already bubbling inside me at the thought of him taking care of me.

But Vaggie doesn’t look comforted. Her expression is a mix of confusion and anger, her voice quiet but shaking with frustration. “What the fuck did he do to you?” she demands, her grip tightening on my wrist.

Before I can even answer, I hear that familiar hum. It’s low, soothing, and before I know it, my mind goes blank, the fog settling over me as if the very air is being stolen from my thoughts. A shiver runs down my spine, but I can’t quite form a coherent thought. My body relaxes against the wall, every muscle going still.

Then Alastor is there, standing in front of me, his presence as commanding as always. He presses a hand lightly to my shoulder, his fingers tracing along the red thread wound around my skin with gentle possessiveness. I can feel his warmth radiating, his touch sending a strange sense of comfort through me.

“Now, now, darling,” he says with a soft chuckle, his voice sweet and calm, “There’s no need to get worked up.” He looks at Vaggie, that charming smile still on his face, but there’s a certain sharpness in his eyes. “My dear poppet is perfectly fine. In fact, they’re quite content, aren’t you, sweetheart?” His gaze turns to me, and I feel that soft pull at the back of my mind, urging me to nod, to agree.

I do, of course. I nod eagerly, the words slipping from my lips without hesitation. “I’m fine, Vaggie. Really.”

Alastor’s fingers brush my cheek, that knowing smile never leaving his face. “You see, poppet, this is how I like to take care of you,” he coos, voice dripping with affection. “Everything is perfectly in place.”

Vaggie stares at him, clearly frustrated but unable to do anything. She takes a step back, glancing between us, unsure of what to do. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything more.

Alastor’s gaze softens, the tension in the room melting away like it always does when he’s around. “Now, Vaggie, I’m afraid you’re simply going to have to trust me on this one,” he says, his tone light, almost playful. “My poppet is mine to care for, and I’ll be keeping them in the best possible condition.”

I feel a strange satisfaction in his words, as if there’s no need for anything more to be said. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t need to think about it. I just want to be close to him, to let him do whatever he wants, because it feels so… right.

Alastor’s fingers twitch, and I’m suddenly aware of the gentle tug of the red thread around my wrist. He’s guiding me, just as he always does. “Now, poppet,” he murmurs, voice soft and soothing. “Why don’t you come with me? We have so much to do together.”

I don’t resist. I follow him eagerly, leaving Vaggie’s confused stare behind.

I follow Alastor, my steps light and without hesitation. It feels… natural, like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I can feel the familiar tug of the red thread at my wrist, but this time, he lets me hold onto my thoughts a little longer. I feel more aware than usual, but instead of the usual fog, I can savor the sensations—his touch, the warmth of his proximity, and the comforting hum that always seems to accompany his presence.

As we reach the dimly lit room, Alastor gently guides me to sit down on a plush chair. The soft fabric beneath me feels reassuring, grounding, even as I settle into it with a sense of ease. He’s standing in front of me, looking down with that smile of his—the one that seems to hold so many secrets, and yet makes me feel safe.

With a delicate motion, he pulls up my sleeve, exposing the faint red stitches that trail up my arm. His fingers run along them slowly, tracing the soft fabric of my skin. The touch sends a strange thrill through me, a feeling of both comfort and possessiveness. He sighs, almost as if content, and I watch him as he works.

“Does it feel good, my poppet?” His voice is soft but carries a certain edge to it, like he already knows the answer.

The question hangs in the air, and I don’t need to think for long. I nod, feeling a warm wave of contentment spread through me. “Yes, Alastor,” I reply, my voice almost a whisper. “I… I enjoy it.”

He grins at my response, pleased with how easy it is for me to accept this now. He begins to work with more focus, gently tucking the loose edges of my “stuffing” back in place with a precision that’s both methodical and affectionate. The sensations feel soothing, as if he’s taking care of me in a way that only he can. It’s not just the physical comfort—it’s the emotional one too, the way he’s there for me, making sure everything stays in perfect condition. I can’t help but feel grateful for it, for him.

He looks at me with that same knowing gaze, almost as if he’s admiring his work. “You truly do enjoy this, don’t you, poppet?” he asks again, his voice teasing, but there’s a soft warmth to it. He’s not just seeking affirmation; he’s reminding me that this is our thing, something we’ve built together, even if I didn’t always know it.

I smile up at him, my thoughts calm and clear now, the soft buzz of comfort still tingling through me. “Yes, I do,” I reply, my voice steady. “I like being like this. With you.”

He hums, pleased with my response, and I can tell he’s savoring this moment. “Of course, poppet. You belong with me, don’t you? I’ve made sure of that.”

I nod, the words feeling natural, like they’ve always been there. “I belong with you.”

Alastor leans in, his fingers moving with gentle precision as he finishes tucking the last of my stitching back in place. There’s a warmth in his touch, a tenderness that contrasts with the way he claims me as his, and I feel completely at ease, my body and mind soft, knowing that this is what I need, what I’ve always wanted.

His smile widens as he pulls away, admiring his work once more. “Perfect, as always. You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you always stay in top condition, my dear poppet.”

And with that, he steps back, his eyes twinkling with a possessive affection. I’m exactly where I belong.

[lesbiantism]

Nadja, Autism, & Womanhood (aka, me using the writers woman allergy to project on Nadja)

Ok here’s the highly demanded (by one person) Nadja autism + womanhood analysis. Before I start, I wanna note that I’m a rambly bitch. This whole post is basically me just putting down thoughts and loosely stringing them together. I don’t know if this will be coherent. I have Really Big Thoughts on characters like this but I never know how to really lay it out in a coherent way. So idk maybe none of this will make sense but it does to me so. Autism essay under the cut.

So, I’m a nonbinary autistic person, but I still identify With womanhood. Just not As a woman if that makes sense? Like I Experience womanhood but I don’t Identity with it, not entirely. It’s hard to explain idk. But for me, autism and gender are inextricably linked. I’ve thought a lot on how, when I masked as a young girl, a lot of it was just me over-performing femininity, desperately trying to fit in with other girls but always feeling like I was stumbling through the performance. Reaching out and tripping over my feet.

Women are expected to be a lot of things in society. They can never be too loud, too bold, too impolite, too dominant, too rough. Too much. I was always too much for others. When Nadja told that story about other kids finding her too loud growing up, so her teachers made her sit outside, I identified so much because school was such an isolating thing for me. My voice was something always criticized, and my big emotions, so I learned to quiet myself, to dull myself. I’m unlearning it now, and I think that’s one big reason I’m drawn to Nadja’s character, because she’s so many of the things I learned Not to be, and she makes me want to fully embrace them again. She’s a woman in a way I understand and relate to.

Getting more into Nadja and less about me—I don’t necessarily read Nadja as nonbinary per se, but I do think when it comes to other women, she sees herself as Something Else. (I think there’s something to be said about Nadja doll, as some kind of metaphor for depersonalization or dysphoria or something. I can’t really articulate it but if anyone else has thoughts feel free to). It’s like there’s a wall of glass there between her and other women. She wants to reach out, but that wall is there. But when it starts to slip-which is I think is what was happening with Guide—she puts it back up.

It’s interesting to see her when she actually Tries to reach out to other women. Like this season, being in the human workforce, trying to befriend Lisa, and getting So Excited that this girl liked her stupid banana phone joke that she just did it over and over, completely unaware that she was starting to annoy her. Kind of like how Guide was with her, and maybe that’s part of why she pushes her away. Because there’s a part of Guide she can relate to, that longing in her. It’s like that wall of glass is a mirror now, a mirror into the parts of herself she’s afraid to really look at or evaluate. And the fact that she can relate to another woman is New and scary. I think Nadja comes off as very confident, and that’s definitely true, but I do also think there’s that part of her that’s Afraid, that carries the pain of a lifetime of rejection, that she hides under an armor of stone. The part of her that has go bags made because she’s afraid of being exiled again. That part of her who, in many different ways, has never really felt like she’s had a place to belong.

I also think another thing that’s interesting is her relationship Jenna. How she saw this young girl being pushed around by others, desperate to belong, and she Understood that feeling, so she wanted to take her under her wing and help her find confidence. It’s a different kind of relating than with Guide. Jenna is a vision of herself in the past, but Guide is a reminder that those feelings—that part of her that Cares what others, particularly women, think—are still present in her. And it makes her feel threatened. She can’t look at Guide without having to look at herself.

Idk. Maybe all of this is projection but what is a blorbo if not a canvas for your own issues. I think I’m extremely correct about all of this though.

So yeah! That’s all my thoughts for now. Feel free to add on!

[ymechi]

Who is the real Creator?

I had to edit and remove some parts for this to make sense, I hope it is coherent if not please tell me so I can fix it and explain everything better. I did not expect people to be interested in this au so I was surprised! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

-TW: cult au, yandere, impostor au, mentions of being hunted down, mentions of trauma, mentions of character injuring themselves (nothing major)

-Gn reader and darling (please tell me if I mess this up message me and I will fix it)

Part 1, This is part 2, part 3, part 4

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Reader ushered Darling inside giving them the blanket which they used to dry their wet self. They sort of reminded Reader of what a wet sad cat one of their neighbors used to own looked like after a rainy day. Darling sat on the kitchen table as Reader once again prepared some tea. Reader really should get a nice tea set soon, they mentally put that on their shopping list the next time they are going to the market.

Darling sat quietly at the table sniffing and not saying much, Reader had no idea what to say before it would have been so easy they knew each other in and out. Yet now. . . it was as if a hundred years had passed, a million things had happened. Reader was now not sure what to say.

They weren't sure if they even wanted to comfort Darling. Shouldn't Darling be comforting Reader? All they got was that half-assed hospital meeting.

If Darling is upset wasn't there a league of followers, acolytes, servants heck even Archons who would comfort them why come to them now out of all times and alone? Clearly something serious happened that they had to runaway alone to them out of all people.

Reader inwardly sighed.

They bought out a pan. One thing they knew how to lighten the mood up was pancakes, it was easy and they knew how to do that . In fact, they might get a master's degree in making pancakes, Reader should ask Nahida if that is possible.

(They tried not to think that it was Darling's favourite meal to eat after being sad.)

"So. . . What happened?" Reader tried to start.

Darling did not respond for a while just quietly staring at them. Their eyes were a bit dull and exhaustion was evident on their face. They seemed to contemplate what to say before they started.

"I. . . I asked to wield a sword, at first they were against it but I wanted to try y'know?"

There was no question who they were, the crazy cultist acolytes. Reader shuddered at some of their past interactions with them, they were good weapon wielders reader would give them that. . . Reader had first-hand experience after all.

Yet Darling was alone with the trigger-happy acolytes all this time.

Although Darling was the supposed Creator, they should have been fine, Reader looked over at them and they lacked any surface wounds.

They should have been fine right?

"It was fine at first they taught me proper stances but then I got a bit touchy with the sword, you know me how I get with stuff like that and then I," she sighed, "I cut myself like an idiot."

Reader rubbed their head and thought about it, they would not be here for a cut something else went on and they waited for Darling to finish.

"Then I bled," Darling was quiet for a moment, "it was red."

Hey, it rhymed Reader wanted to say to break the tension but Reader refrained. They did not get it at all. What was so wrong with red blood? Wasn't blood supposed to be red.

Darling must have caught on and they looked like they finally understood something. It was they who wanted to understand what was going on!

"Uhm yeah you maybe don't know but the Creator is supposed to bleed gold."

Oh.

"Oh."

That is all they could say really. They felt dumb for a second there they had been actively avoiding taking any religious classes or any mention of religion for their own mental health's sake. Perhaps if they did not avoid it as much they would have understood what was going on much easier but for now the single religious book they owned remained hidden and untouched in their drawer.

Now that they finally understood the problem it was quite the conundrum. Darling was supposed to be the Creator yet now they were not because of some gold blood requirement. What would happen to Darling? Would they accuse them of harming the "real Creator"? Hunt them down like they did to Reader? Would they come and hunt down Reader again?

Although they doubted they would be hunted down again as the "blessings of the Creator" thing, whatever that meant, Nahida told everyone else seemed to work and placate them.

"Now what?" A reader asked tiredly.

"I don't know I managed to sneak out while they were distracted but I guess they will find out soon to come and get me."

Reader grimaced and turned around to prepare to finally whisk the ingredients they were too distracted to do while they listened to Darling.

"So like did they hurt you after they found out or something?" Reader cringed at their wording. They could have said that better considering it was a serious topic.

"No they didn't they just healed me and left me in my room," Darling paused, "You should have seen some of the looks on their faces, like I killed their puppy or something. . ."

Reader tried to imagine what it was like worshipping someone only for that person not to be the god they worshiped. It must have gone bad for both parties involved. Darling was told she was a god only to be looked at in disappointment. The followers who eagerly awaited for their beloved Creator only for it to be an illusion.

"Yikes, I can't imagine it was pleasant."

"It wasn't."

They went quiet after that soon the pancakes were ready and Reader went out to serve them along with the tea. Reader had to admit they could make some good mean pancakes because Darling looked a bit better with some of the color returning to their face.

There was another knock at the door.

Another visitor? Who would come- They looked at Darling, oh right.

Darling once again looked pale and the grip on their utensils was trembling. What had they done to shake them up this much? Reader wasn't doing better either their heartbeat going frantic as unpleasant memories resurfaced. Damnit they thought they had gotten better.

"Reader it is me Nahida we need to talk, I am sorry but it is urgent."

Reader inhaled, thank the stars it was only Nahida.

They relaxed their shoulders and opened the door. Despite the rain, the Archon looked dry and Reader wondered what sort of magic they used and if they could learn it as well.

"I am sorry to interfere," she looked behind Reader, "but it seems you have the person we have been searching for," Nahida said while looking genuinely sorry.

Right, the only person Darling knew besides the acolytes in this world was the Reader. No wonder they were found out so quickly.

"Uhm- uh- How about some pancakes first?"

Nahida looked the the back of Darling who was hunched over and relented. She must have seen something as she agreed rather quickly. Reader closed the door as the Archon entered their home. Nahida approached Darling they did an elegant bow and Reader was suddenly hit that Darling was or now was the creator. Darling got someone as well respected as Nahida to bow.

Reader had seen the way people behaved in respect and reverence at Nahida and how the scholars, the Emirates, and merchants would listen and take in her input. So someone like Nahida bowing. . .

Reader never fully understood the weight and status of that position the so-called "Creator" held even after being hunted down over it.

Yet now it seemed very heavy.

How did Darling live with that?

Darling face grimaced as she saw the bow. Nahida looked worried.

"Is there something going on your grace?"

This was going to be an awkward conversation. How to explain to someone you were not the god you thought they were?

Darling looked at Reader before looking back at their untouched pancakes.

"I am not your grace Nahida I bleed red like the rest."

A tense silence followed.

Nahida to her credit seemed calm with the revelation. She had her point finger touching her mouth in a contemplative gesture.

"I see and that is why you are here."

The room was quiet for a while. Reader awkwardly wrung her hands and it was surprisingly Darling, the least stable person who spoke up again.

"Did you know?" Darling said in an accusing tone their eyebrows narrowed. Reader thought they almost looked angry. Where did that come from? How could Nahida have known if no one else including them knew?

"To be honest your-," she paused," I had my suspicions.

Wait what- That was the first Reader heard about this.

"And you did not bother to tell me! To tell anyone?!" Darling jumped up from the chair.

"Was it funny watching me being led on, all those expectations, all those promises my whole world getting fucked up - fuck can I even go back home to my family?!"

Reader jumped between them hiding Nahida behind them trying to calm Darling down who looked to be on the verge of crying or a breakdown.

"Look Darling I know you are upset, it's messed up but she didn't have anything to do with it okay? I am sure she had her reasons."

Darling took one glance at Reader's eyes and fell down on the chair, they hid their face in their arms.

"I am. . . Sorry. . . Shit."

That de-escalated quickly just as it erupted. They worry about Darling's mental health at this point.

"It is fine, I suppose this is a very difficult situation for everyone involved," said Nahida.

Reader wrung their hands together.

"Hey I know it's not the time but I did make extra pancakes let's eat first?" They tried not to sound pathetic.

The silence was their reply.

"You and your damn pancakes," Darling said and snorted.

"Hey! I only do it because I know it cheers you up!" they said and huffed.

Nahida who looked at them laughed, the previous suffocating tension was gone and Reader went up to get a plate for Nahida as well. Finally both Reader and the Archon sat down on their seat they all ate in relative silence but it wasn't as awkward as it could have been.

Once finished Reader poured some hot tea.

"Thank you Reader the pancakes were delicious I will have to ask you to let me eat them again sometime."

Reader smiled at the Archon.

"Of course, you are welcome any time."

Darling who watched them snorted. Reader looked at them with questioning eyes.

"What are you laughing at," Reader said in an accusing tone. Was Darling mocking them again?

"You speak like them now," Darling said with an amused glint in their eyes as they looked at Reader.

"Ohh, I guess I kind of do. . ."

"Nerd."

"Hey!"

Nahida once again took a look at them and laughed. Both snapped out of their bubble and looked at the Archon sheepishly.

"I am glad to see you two are getting along well, I hope both of you don't mind the topic changing to a more serious one," she looked at both of them and both nodded,"Before we start, I have a question for you Darling."

Darling looked apprehensive but nodded.

"Do the others know about you not being the creator?"

". . .Yeah they do," Darling said and looked at their empty plate.

"I see that does make things easier it is better it is out now that later knowing how overzealous some acolytes and followers can get."

Reader grimaced and Darling looked a bit defeated at the statement.

"How much do you both know about the creator?"

Reader and Darling looked at each other and it was Reader who started to speak.

"Honestly not much I avoid religious talk at all cost."

Nahida looked at Reader with sympathy.

"I guess I am the opposite I got to learn a lot, basically in each new era the creator descends into a new incarnation, and their vessel is not always the same," she paused thinking about what to say next, "They like to live peacefully with their people because of that they don't always have their powers with them but they can gain them over time, something like that"

"Yes that is most of it, it is presumed in this era the creator chose to be a normal human which we thought was you Darling. We also thought that the Creator's presence and powers were weak due to being a normal human in this incarnation. Despite you not being the Creator some part of what I said is true.

"Which part?" Darling asked.

"The part where the creator chose to be an ordinary human, despite having such a faint presence me being so attuned to Irminsul could still feel it, yet it was weak. That is why I was confused. Rather than being the Creator you Darling had gotten a blessing from the Creator."

"But how I have never met them" Darling interjected.

Nahida stared at Reader and once again Reader was reminded of those intense stares directed at them as if trying to solve a puzzle piece.

"No, the creator was - is still quite close to you."

"Wait really?" Darling looked at Nahida in confusion inching closer towards the Archon as if they went closer physically they would solve the mystery.

"Yes we are sitting beside them after all."

There was no question about who Nahida meant both she and Darling were staring at Reader.

No.

That is what Reader replied with.

Nahida shook her head.

"I am afraid it is true.

No way.

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Taglist: @resident-cryptid @probablynoposts @esthelily @mitsukashi @charming-mage @chaoticfivesworld @irisxiel @dulcedelechenginamo

[shsl-hubris-guy]

So recently I made a post about why I think Chihiro makes the most sense within the context of her own story as a transfem. It was a post made right after an all nighter, so I'm honestly surprised how coherent I was able to make it lol, but anyways, I wanted to keep talking about it. I think I covered pretty well about why Chihiro being trans is more impactful for her, but not so much why transfem specifically, and not transmasc. Basically, the goal of this post is to explain why I think a lot of people are weirded out by the transmasc headcanon in a way that hopefully doesn't feel like an attack

I'm well aware that a lot of people that enjoy transmasc Chihiro are transmasc themselves, and see themselves in said interpretation. This is generally true of a lot of trans interpretations of characters, but especially here, as the canon explanation of Chihiro's character is "he feels immensely uncomfortable pretending to be a girl so people won't make fun of him." I myself used to adore the transmasc headcanon. I hc'd Chihiro as wearing a packer, that Kyoko could tell it was an artificial dick, and everything that followed was the class being Super Cool about trans people because it just seemed like the easiest out for all the transphobia within her story. Besides, I quite liked Chihiro, and 'boy who feels like he must dress like a girl for people to assume his identity' was something I related to a lot.

The thing is, the more I looked into that interpretation, the less sense it starts to make. Again, as a GNC trans man, I like to wear skirts and things like that. Clothes don't have gender, after all, and they can be way more comfortable than pants, especially when you don't shave. But Chihiro isn't GNC. Her story as it's meant to be interpreted expressly says feminine clothing makes her feel lesser than. She's described (by Monokuma ofc) as hating said femininity. It makes her feel weaker, like those skirts and female identity is an inherent weakness. And that's what I think the main problem is; even when under the guide of being a trans man, Chihiro's story still falls as one rooted in misogyny as most logically presented.

The story presented in chapter 2 is inherently male-centric, to the point where its title is "Boys' Life of Despair". It's a story about men, questioning the identity of men, and focused wholly on men. The one (canonically) fem character that's important to the chapter's plot is Toko, and only to perpetuate an ableist trope as a red herring. Even then, when Syo reveals herself, all her dialogue is explaining why men are so important to her. I don't think having a subplot that focuses on male characters or the concept of masculinity is a bad idea on paper, especially not when within the confines of an overarching plot that very much does utilize women as leading characters, but in practice, the plotline about toxic masculinity is used *at the expense of* women, rather than existing in tandem with them.

Throughout the entire chapter, it's established that women are weaker via Chihiro. When Mondo says that women are naturally weaker, Chihiro starts crying, and Mondo is made to apologize. HOWEVER, the reason he apologizes is not because of the blatant misogyny of the statement, but rather, because he yelled too loud. Even when Hina and Sakura are involved in the conversation, neither of them seem to care about the sexism. Even in the stage play, when Sakura DOES take offense to it, it's shrugged off as a gag, with Mondo saying she's 'special.' Sakura is held as an exception to the rule. AT NO POINT IN THIS CHAPTER IS THE ASSERTION THAT WOMEN ARE INHERENTLY WEAKER THAN MEN EVER CONTESTED. Later in the same chapter, Makoto (the player character whom we're supposed to be projecting onto) says that Mondo was right, and that girls aren't strong.

Chihiro's backstory and the way she views herself *as presented by others* only reinforces this idea. The parallels between Chihiro and Mondo are a story about strength and weakness. Chihiro is physically weak but mentally strong, and Mondo is physically strong but mentally weak. This is the point of them being paired together, and the foundation upon which everything else found in the chapter is built on. So when you have Chihiro, a canonical man who wears skirts, and give her an inferiority complex about her weakness that's inherently tied to how similar she is to women, you end up with an inherently misogynistic narrative. According to Danganronpa, Chihiro is weak BECAUSE of her similarities to women, as is enforced by the language used and the presentation of Chihiro's identity. Similarly, the assertion that Chihiro makes to Mondo defining her 'mental strength' is the assertion to no longer be fem-presenting, to destroy everything feminine about her and to become a 'real man' like how she perceives Mondo. This part by itself could be interpreted as transmasc, but when paired with the rest of the chapter's insistence of the weakness of women? It's not transphobic anymore, sure, but it still has that inherent core of misogyny, without any real acknowledgement or deconstruction of it in the way that the transfem headcanon does.

Ultimately, fiction is meant to be interpreted by those who consume it, and you can fanonize as much as you want. Just don't be too surprised when women, especially trans women, don't like the way you're interpreting it. It is always worth deconstructing your own biases and the way you consume media

[usernameforaboredcat]

Black & Red (Shanks X F!Reader X Mihawk) SMUT

Anonymous request (I got chu)

Just a simple day at the beach drinking turns into something way more hot and steamy than expected.

A long fic, have fun babes

Warning ⚠️: age-gap, threesome, groping, double penetration, deep throating, maybe some others that I forgot idk its sex ya know the type of shit youre signing up for.

“Shaaaanks, come on! It’s too early to drink, we’ll be up all night again”.

“Don’t worry about it so much sweetheart! It’ll be fun!”.

That’s the last coherent conversation I remember before getting shit faced and passing out on a beach with Shanks. No matter how many times I tell myself ‘you gotta stop doing this, I don’t care how hot he is I can’t be drinking this much’ but do I ever listen? No of course not! Have you see him? That man is so hot and fine, all I can do is easily submit to anything he asks. I mean it's not the first time he's easily made me submit to something, which ended in a lot of hookups or alleyway deepthroating. Hehe...

I awaken from my slumber as I feel myself being shaken. “Wakey wakey sweetheart”. I hear an all too familiar and soothing voice. I groan and snuggle more into his chest. “Nooo. You made me drink and gave me a hangover”. I mumble. “Does it make you feel better knowing that I have one too?”. He asks, running his fingers through my hair.

“A little”.

~

I yawn as I walk back to the cove the crew was camping at, coming back from some private business time…I had to pee. I see the crew already partying and drinking again. Seriously? “Hey! (Y/n)!”. I look towards Shanks, seeing him drinking with an unfamiliar man with a large sword sitting next to him, a long coat and a large hat. “Have you ever heard of the 7 warlords?”. Shanks asks me, the man turning to look at me. “Uh yeah…I’ve heard of them…”. I answer nervously, I think I already know where this is going before he can even finish. “This is Mihawk! An old buddy of mine! He’s one of the warlords”. He explains, using his free hand to usher me over.

I walk over to the two men, Shanks pulling me over to sit on his lap. "Come on (Y/n), don't be shy now and say hi!". He tells me, as if I'm a child. Sir, I'm 20. I turn to look at the warlord, man is he an attractive man. "Hello". I greet him. "Hello, young lady". He greets back. I turn to look up at Shanks, tugging on his shirt to draw his attention to me. "So what's this about? Why are we partying again?". I ask him, tilting my head slightly. He smile and laughs. "Ya know that Luffy kid I told you about? He finally got his first wanted poster!". He answers happily.

I remember him talking about that Luffy kid. Shanks told me how he met him years ago, the dumb little kid who cut his cheek and ate the gum gum fruit. He isn't any younger than me, the more I think about that the more it kinda makes me feel weird. Still, I'd like to meet him one day.

"Huh, look at him". I mutter under my breath, but I know Shanks heard me. As if the conversation is forgotten about, Shanks now holding out a filled cup of booz to me. "Enough yappin! Take a sip, dear". He orders me. 'Uh, I really don't wanna drink'. I take the cup from him, taking a sip from it. "Atta girl". He coos, his hand now sitting on my hip, rubbing up and down with his thumb. I feel a shiver runs down my spine, the feeling of his hand running straight to my core. He knows exactly what he's doing, he knows how to get my body going.

'God, I hate him'.

~

My breath quickens as I feel a jolt run through my body, whimpers slipping through my lips no matter how hard I try to hide them. "Ssshhh, not so loud baby". Shanks whispers into my ear, his finger not stopping it's abuse on my clit. I throw my head back into his board shoulder. "Sh-Shanks, pleeeease~". I whimper out. "Hm? Please what? Need me to fuck you already?". He asks in a deep tone, his hot breath down my neck. "I-hhh I!". I stumble on my words, needing him to give me just a second to cum. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Shanks". I feel my body freeze, but Shanks doesn't stop. "Oh, hey Mihawk". He pulls his hand away, my legs giving out and I collapse to the forest floor.

"What's up? You leaving already?". Shanks asks the other man. "I was thinking that, yes". Mihawk confirms. "Oh come on, you just got here. Why not have a little fun with (Y/n) and I? I don't mind sharing that pretty face". He offers the man. 'HUH!?'. I turn my head behind me, looking over to the men. I look over to Mihawk, seeing that he's already looking at me dead in the eyes with a hungry look. "You're too open with sharing your toys, Shanks". He comments, taking his sword off his back and setting it against a nearby tree. The two men walk over to me, Mihawk standing in front of me as I feel Shanks crouch behind me. "You don't mind, do you sweetheart?". Shanks asks me, pulling me back so my back is against his hard chest, using his hand to rub my chin. "N-No". I stutter out nervously, looking up into Mihawks almost glowing eyes.

Shanks chuckles as his hand goes down to my shirt, pulling it up to expose my bare chest. "Good girl~". He hums into my ear, nuzzling into my neck. I shiver and shut my eyes as Shanks's cold hand goes down to my chest, groping and grabbing at my tit. I let out a soft moan, feeling him twist and play with my nipple. Shanks's head rises once again, nibbling on my ear lobe. "Come on baby, show the war lord what that mouth of yours can do". He orders. I hum with a nod, finally opening my eyes to look up at the warlord.

I break eye contact to see a growing bulge in his pants, only half hard. I grab the hem of his pants, slowly pulling them down. His half hard shaft rises up slightly, hanging straight out from his body. I reach up and grab him by the base, Mihawk letting out a very quiet groan. I lean forward and close my lips over his tip, licking his tip. I look back up to look into Mihawks eyes, slowly moving my head back and forth as she stares down at me. "Oh don't try and ease me into, unless Shanks hasn’t taught you properly”. He comments in an unimpressive tone.

Shanks chuckles from behind me, his hand sneaking up to the back of my head. “She can take it, I have her working that throat of hers every night like the slut she is”. He responds, gripping my head and moving my head for me. I moan into Mohawks cock as Shanks moves my head for me, shoving me down on his cock more. I cough as I feel myself getting shoved deep down, feeling him deep down my throat. Shanks moves his hand away, but I keep the pace he set and continue to deep throat his cock. “That’s better”. Mihawk compliments. “Yeah, she’s a good girl, aren’t ya sweetheart”. Shanks chuckles, sliding his hand down my back. My body jolts when I feel Shanks’s hand back in my panties, running his finger through my wet folds.

My body shivers as I feel Shanks use a free finger to poke it in and out of my aching pussy, causing me to just need more friction. My body was already so close to being filled, but now we're back to square one. My body is tingling painfully, needing release finally. I start to moan painfully onto Mihawks cock, breathing through my nose quickens as tears build up in my eyes. I try to move my body, needing more than just the tip of Shanks's fingers inside me. "Shanks, your pet is getting restless". Mihawk tells the red head. Shanks chuckles. "I can tell, she's trying to suck my fingers in". He confirms. Mihawk then grips the back of my head aggressively, speeding up his pace and slamming down into my throat. "Don't worry dear, you can get fucked as much as you want once I'm finished". He tells me, his penis tip punching the back of my throat.

Shanks chuckles again. "Look at you, you'll get all the cock you want. I bet a whore like you is loving this". He whispers into my ear. "I can't wait to see you drenched with cum". He adds in a deeper tone, licking up my neck. "Take it, take Mihawks cum, take all the cum like I trained you to". I shut my eyes as tears spill from my eyes, struggling terribly to breath. My body feels like it's going to explode, ready to gush all over Shanks's hand. With a few twitches of his cock, Mihawk slams all the way down my throat his warm cum fills up my throat. I cough on the cum, gulping it down. Mihawk slowly pulls out his dick, sucking on the left to leave not a single drop. "Good slut". Shanks compliments. "You did train her good, I commend you that Shanks". Mihawk tells him. "Wait till you feel her pussy, perfection". Shanks respond.

Shanks pulls his hand away from me as I let out an annoyed whimper, pushing my body slightly to let my body fall to the ground on my hands and knees. I breath heavily as I try to catch my breath, my body shaking and loosing its mind from not be able to cum again. A cold hand on my ass makes me jump, I look lazily over my shoulder to see Mihawk kneeling behind me. I turn to look in front of me, looking up to see Shanks looking down at me with a smirk. He gently grabs my chin, rubbing it with his thumb as his smirk turns into a loving smile. "You're such a good girl, if I wasn't clingy I'd let people pay for them to fuck you. You're perfect mouth, pussy, ass, everything. Other men wish they could get one night with a goddess like you". He praises, his words going straight to my core. The mental image of getting fucked and covered in cum while Shanks watches, full bukaki as he just sits happily.

"Would you like that? Or would you rather some weak desperate men pay to watch me fuck you, show them how to really please a woman". He adds. That hit my core harder, Shanks cucking a guy. Some poor bastard watching Shanks fill and fuck my pussy full of cock and cum. I feel a warm tip rub against my folds, rubbing at my tip and poking at my hole. "Go ahead Mihawk, I wanna see the faces she makes when being filled by another man". He tells the other man. Then without warning, Mihawk easily slides his cock fully inside me. A whimpered moan escapes my lips, my legs shaking at the feeling of being filled finally. "Now isn't that a pretty face". Shanks points out, palming himself through his pants. "Sh-Shanks~". I whimper out, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "I need...yoooooou". I moan out, craving more. I struggle to keep my body steady as Mihawk ruthlessly pounds into my body, slamming deep inside me. It feels weird to have another cock inside me, being so used to Shanks monster in his pants. Mihawks length is kind of refreshing, feeling his tip slamming into my curvix.

Shanks chuckles as he looks down at my wanting face, eyes begging for something from him. "You really have been a whore all along, being stuffed with cock and still needing more". He hums. He sits up more, pulling his pants down and his cock smashing me in the face. "Go on then, take the cock you so desperately need". He tells me. He slides his cock into my mouth, my body quickly jolting back and forth. I moan onto Shanks's cock, breathing rapidly through my nose. I can't breath, my body is shaking so much. 'FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM AND WE'VE JUST STARTED! FUCK BUT I NEED TO CUM!'. I give in, moaning loudly as my body finally releases as my body shakes violently. Mihawk hisses, pounding faster. "What's wrong buddy? She cum and squeeze ya?". Shanks asks him. "Indeed, she's trying to strangle me". He responds, causing Shanks to laugh.

"Props to you, I would have cum at her clenching like that". He chuckles. "You're just weak". Mihawk comments. I'm surprised I can still comprehend what they're saying, my whole body is weak and my head is fuzzy. I can't go on, cumming and still being fucked is driving my body crazy. I can tell that I'm finally giving out, because now I can't hear properly what the two are saying. Everything stops, feeling arms wrap under my legs and I get hoisted up with Shanks's cock popping out my mouth. I feel my back press against Mihawks chest, him holding me out spread legged. I see Shanks standing in front of me, he strokes my cheek loving me. "Sh-Shanks...". I pant out. He pulls his hand away, letting me lean my head against Mihawks shoulder.

My body jolts, fulling waking up at the feeling of Shanks sliding into my insides. I pant at the pain, reaching to grip hard onto Shanks shoulder. "That's it, you can take it". Shanks reassures me in a soft tone. My body relaxes, feeling the two men filling and stretching me out. My body felt so stuffed, I thought I was going to rip in half. The feeling didn't get any better when the two started to thrust in sync, thankfully going slow on me. Every breath was a loud moan, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. Their pace speeds up, my mouth drooling from them massing up my insides. The feeling is indescribable, being fucked hard and stuffed to the brink of ripping. I felt like I was gonna pass out, I don't even know if I could cum again.

Their paces speed up, going full speed in and out my pussy. I cry and scream out my moans, digging my nails so hard against Shanks's shoulders that I wouldn't be surprised if there was blood. I could feel my freedom apporting, feeling the two older men twitching and their thrusts growing sloppy to out of sync. Next minute, Shanks lets out a groan as he finally cums. He sits and stays there panting, staying inside me. Soon enough, Mihawk cums again for a second time. The two pull out of me, Mihawk moving me to be laying in his arms. I feel like I'm on the verge of passing out, my brain fuzzy and hazy. A warm hand strokes my face softly, a soft kiss on my forehead. "Good job baby, you can rest". Shanks soft voice luls me to sleep, I finally pass out in Mihawks arms.

[bonus]

The two older men walk out the forest and back onto the beach, the other pirates noticing the passed out younger girl in Mihawks arms. "Is she okay?". Benn asks. "Did something happen?". Yasopp asks. Shanks waves them off. "Don't worry she's all fine, just a little shaken up". He reassures. "Why? Did something happen?". Benn asks. Mihawk chimes in. "Just some scary monster".

[destinedhope]

piggy backing off my last two post i do kinda have a fic idea inspired by penelope and odysses, this is gonna be completely different then the edit ideas i had, again ill try to explain as coherently as i can sorry in advance. anyone is free to use this idea im probably never gonna get around to actually writing it myself

shortly after sealing DBK under a mountain, the celestial heavens(sorry im sleepy and i cant remember if thats the proper name) want to keep wukong on a leash and control him, to do this they come up with the plan to basically force him to marry a celestial and if he refuses there will be consequences for FFM, to avoid this he agrees on the condition that he doesnt have to choose a suitor until he has a fully trained successor, something he doesnt think would ever happen but he needs something to give him more time and freedom(hes still grieving macaque who he had been married to before their fight that killed him).

all the suitors come and go over the years(basically like once a year or so they all stay at FFM for a time and he has to spend time with them) and them he meets mk, who he honestly wants to be his successor, but hes still not ready to choose a suitor, so he does procrastinate as much as hes allowed with training mk, the celestials getting more and more impatient as mks power grows and wukong still hasnt declared him fully trained

and then everything with the LBD happens and macaque is back, but all that happens as canon so there a lot of tension, and wukong hasnt told anyone about the deal that the celestials bound him too.

maybe the crew and macaque dont learn about this deal until season 4 when azure lion finds out about it(or maybe they find out sooner or not until after season five idk lots of options) after killing the jade emperor and tries to uphold the deal be making himself the only suitor(we all know how some of these people get with wukong, hes to pretty for his own good), even after azure and the jade emperor are dead wukong is still bound by this deal, season 4 and 5 happen semi normally other then this being a background problem and maybe the suitors make a nuisance of themselves more during season 5 plot, but they really dont start putting the pressure on wukong until after the world is saved

something something macaque is the only exception to the rule of marrying outside the celestial suitors(since you know they were married before but he has to prove that to the magic or whatever that wukong is bound with), something something wukong makes a challenge for the suitors and they try to pull some stupid shit because they cant do the challenge and then macaque gets to go all odysses on their asses and wukong is falling in love all over again from the sidelines, something something forgiving eachother of past mistakes and they live happily ever after,

basically a lot of angst, and comfort and found family bonding with wukong and crew, shadowpeach reconciliation, cause as much as i love the shadowpeach aspect of this, i love the crew/mk trying to help and comfort and getting mad on his behalf just as much, also yes both mk and the other monkeys are technically in the place of telemachus in this

[archibaldtuttle]

Alien : Romulus - a 7/10 reason to stop making Alien films

This review will be spoiler-free

When I came out of the theater yesterday, after having gone through a viewing of Alien Romulus, I caught myself agreeing with my friends - this was pretty good!

And I am beyond poisoned about the Alien franchise since Ridley Scott got his grubby paws all over it with Prometheus. The only reason I made the effort to move my ass to the theater to see this one was because he wasn't directing (and also I didn't have to pay for it) (thanks sib).

I knew Alvarez from two of his previous films, the 2013 remake of Evil Dead and Don't Breathe. I am pretty mixed on both - they demonstrate solid filmmaking abilities and (in the case of Evil Dead), a deep respect for franchises he's adding to. However they are also a little heavy on the jumpscares for my taste, and in the case of Don't Breathe I just can't praise the film without having to mention that the third act twist is gross in an entirely unnecessary, shock-value way, that does nothing for the film thematically.

That did give me some hope for Romulus however, because that third act twist told me Alvarez likes talking about rape and impregnation. And contrary to Don't Breathe... that's right at home in Alien.

So what about the film then? It's good. Solid premise, I like that we're finally, finally, seven films in, seeing the planet-side society that births all those rundown spaceships. Good pair of main characters with on one side a demonstrably resourceful Rain and on the other a very nuanced look at the franchise's synthetics with Andy. The others are more forgettable but I can't blame that too much on the film - they're well characterized in a few short scenes and that's all I can expect really. The build-up is solid, the various ticking clocks and sources of tensions well established.

What I find particularly notable is the really good setpieces and the use of facehuggers in a way I've wanted to see for a long time. Very good physical effects supplemented by good to ok-ish CGI. The writing is very heavy-handed - I wish more people looked at what O'Bannon did with exposition before they write their own Alien scripts. I do give credit to Alvarez and his co-writer Sayagues for the cool concepts explored and the way they thread Andy's character exploration through them.

The editing is mostly blameless - I wouldn't call it great or even that good, especially with how hectic it gets during some more action-ey scenes, but you can tell Roberts isn't specialized or even used to horror films. I guess he took from his experience on Pressure which would explain a lot... The score is really good, one of the highlights of the film in my opinion - I've liked almost all I've heard from Wallfisch so I wasn't surprised to find out he did this one.

So why did I give this review a very baitey title. It became clear as I was watching the fourth, then the inevitable fifth act unfold, that we were, collectively, scraping the barrel on what can be done with Alien. Prometheus and Covenant, beyond the fact that they were garbage movies, were already trying desperately to find new things to do with the concept. Romulus succeeded, for the most part, in finding new ways to twist it into something interesting, something we hadn't seen before (or at least not entirely). And I'm pretty sure that's it.

I don't want more directors to spend months racking their brains to try and find three or more scene setups that haven't already been done in seven main films, two AVP films and countless video games, in order to string them together into a coherent 2 and a half hour flick. I don't think it's impossible, Alvarez clearly demonstrated that he could do it and I'm pretty sure other people could. But why waste so much time, talent and energy on a series that objectively does not need expanding upon?

I know why, it's because the current studio system is allergic to anything that doesn't have brand recognition. But I think it's sad. And I think it would be a lot more gracious to put an end to a franchise after a pretty good film that did all it could to honor its predecessors rather than try to keep squeezing more out of it until it turns into the horror version of Star Wars.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ Marquis of Los Angeles: Ch. 2 - Domination

ཐི♡ཋྀ Thank you for the beta-read, @evrensadwrn! ཐི♡ཋྀ

Summary: LaCroix briefs Vincent on the new world he has just entered into, with the expectation that he will be an obedient ghoul. But Vincent is still struggling to gain the upper hand.

Author's Note: I made myself sad writing this - I want Sebastian to turn from Whumper to Caretaker already!

TW: mind control, emotional manipulation, strangulation, kidnapping

It was not LaCroix’s habit to keep his subordinates close to him. If it was wise to keep enemies close, then it was wiser to keep envious inferiors at such a distance that they had no opportunity to become enemies. Ghouls ought to have no knowledge of their master’s weaknesses, and no importance as anything other than pawns. They ought to view him as a solitary, impenetrable figure, above even their understanding. But Vincent Bisset de Gramont proved himself an enemy from the start, and therefore, an exception.

LaCroix repeated that name in his head and smiled, rolling it and playing with it, along with the bullet in his palm which he had decided to keep as a souvenir. Vincent had become so incensed when LaCroix refused to use his title that he determined on the spot never to use it again. The man had to be taught a lesson. “You are no Marquis any longer, let alone an ‘Autem Imperator,’ Vincent. Those titles have no meaning here. You will learn new titles. ‘Prince.’ ‘Regnant.’ ‘Domitor.’ And they will belong to me, not to you - as do all things where we’re going. Know your place.” He leaned back into the quilted suede of his seat, letting starlight and the dimmed glow of the cabin play across his features to what he hoped was a mysterious and intimidating effect.

“Your hubris knows no bounds, Prince,” Vincent spat back, clutching the arms of his seat as if his wrists were lashed to them. “They’re looking for me even now. Do you think you can walk into a High Table duel and make off with the highest ranking –“

“No one is looking for you, because no one knows you’re missing. Everyone who saw me believes they saw a kindly priest who said his respects over your body before helping that fellow – The Harbinger, I believe you call him – lay you to rest in a casket for your mortician to carry away. Tomorrow, that empty casket will be buried.”

A flash of panic before his pretty green eyes lit up again. “The mortician will – “

“The mortician wasn’t your man. He was mine. I sent a local friend to take his place, and to oversee the proceedings. You’re as good as dead, Vincent. I’m dreadfully sorry.”

He went as ghostly white as his travelling companion then. He remained very quiet while Sebastian explained to him the meanings of those important titles he’d mentioned, as well as other relevant words such as “Masquerade” and “Camarilla” and “Ventrue.”

LaCroix’s hope of entertainment during the flight was very much fulfilled. Vincent made for a captivating (if pitiful) image, with blood still smeared across his forehead and wetness sparkling in his eyes. LaCroix couldn’t stop staring at him and wondering whether he’d really cry or not. It filled him with a strange mix of sadism and sympathy that kept the Prince continuously in suspense. It sent him inexplicably trembling to hear Vincent say, “You’ll have to forgive me, Sebastian, I’m just so confused. Please…help me understand everything.”

He was coherent enough to ask intelligent questions though, and always seemed to latch onto those subjects that were a little too top-secret for a first conversation with a ghoul, whilst sighing that he was just so confused and scared. Clearly, he knew his way around a syndicate like the Camarilla and went straight for the vital information. When at last the Prince tired of this game and started to inquire about Vincent’s own organization, he refused to divulge anything.

It confused Sebastian a little. Every other ghoul he’d ever created had hung on his words in an ecstasy that totally drowned out the loss of their former life. They typically begged to repay him for saving them and fell over themselves to please him until he was either amused or disgusted. They certainly didn’t issue desperate pleas and threats about returning to their old life, or try to ply information out of him, or protect their old secrets. But Vincent? Well…there was no doubt that Vincent was affected by Sebastian. Sometimes his eyes lingered on LaCroix as if he wasn’t quite able to look away. But the look there wasn’t puppy love, it was…horror. Hatred. As if Vincent was looking at an old grudge who had wronged him grievously. Something wasn’t right.

He wasn’t in deep enough, that was all. He’d only taken the first sip of vitae – two still remained to form a full blood bond. And he was hardly a pliant individual, that much was evident. For now, Sebastian supposed he’d have to secure the ghoul’s cooperation via commands. “Vincent. When I ask you a question about the High Table, you will answer me directly, honestly, and without embellishments. Do you understand?”

A glazed, vacant look replaced the pitiful one. “I understand.”

There, good. Sebastian let out a breath, only just realizing how tense he had become, and began his inquisition.

He knew a little about the High Table already. It was not so different from the Giovanni, but even larger by membership the Camarilla, and impressive for a human construction. It was difficult to be anyone significant in either the human or kindred underworld without running across the High Table’s activities at some point. But the Autem Imperator (Sebastian might not call him by his title out loud, but he wasn’t forgetting it for an instant in his own mind) offered a unique view of its proceedings. Within minutes, LaCroix knew who held each seat, how communications passed between members, how those communications might be intercepted, into which countries their influence had spread (it was most of them), and even where the Elder resided.

It had been no idle tip, he realized, that suggested he should pay a visit to his home country and rest in the basilica that day. It had been, in fact, pure gold in the form of an anonymous email. He almost passed it up as an attempted ruse or ambush, even with all the power promised by the stranger on the other end. But it also spoke to a Masquerade violation, and even the Nosferatu could not trace it. The sender must have had a contact, someone who could encrypt on their level. So he went personally, just for 24 hours, with the resolution that he would return to the safety of LA as soon as possible.

Remembering at last to the original purpose of his visit, LaCroix asked his ghoul one final question, shortly before landing.

“Do you have an associate who would go by the initial ‘C’?”

Even under domination, he rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Sebastian held out the message on his phone. “Who could this have been?”

“Is it true that you can help someone live beyond death? If you really are I’ve been told you are, then come at once, to Paris. Come to the Sacré-Coeur Basilica just before dawn. If you’re lucky and I’m unlucky, you will find a man there who cannot escape death any other way. If you keep him alive, he will offer you knowledge and power equal to your own, pertaining to a human organization you may know as the High Table. Take him away from me, change him, disappear him, I don’t care. Only save his life and make him happy, and you will have my eternal thanks. He does not know, and will never know, what he means to me.”

- C”

“My bodyguard, Chidi.” His voice was strained almost to the breaking point, and his eyes still fixed on Sebastian’s phone even after the email was closed. Sebastian had no questions about whether he was faking his tearfulness this time.

“A ghoul of your very own, of sorts! Where can I find him?”

Vincent closed his eyes for a moment before mustering an answer. “…He’s dead.”

“Ah, splendid. That saves me a great deal of trouble.”

And then Vincent did what no ghoul, whether on one sip of vitae or three, should have been capable of doing. He sprung forward and closed hands around his domitor’s neck.

.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸. ཐི♡ཋྀ.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.

It took Vincent much longer than it should have to recall that Sebastian didn’t need to breathe. By that time, he was already being dragged off by the enormous, visibly supernatural thing that Sebastian had introduced as “The Sheriff.”

“Get this brainless lump off of me!”

“Hey,” The Sheriff grunted. Vincent paid him no mind, and continued addressing LaCroix with exactly as much civility as he deserved, all the while straining against the boulder-heavy hands holding him back.

“You will not SPEAK to me that way and you will not – “ Fuck, he hated the way his voice was shaking… “You will not speak of my bodyguard’s death as – as ‘splendid!’”

“And you will not speak to me at all until you can behave yourself!” LaCroix retorted. “SILENCE!”

The voice seemed to go out of Vincent’s throat. All his resistance had been used up in the outburst and he sunk numbly back into his seat.

LaCroix was panting, a shaking hand against his neck. He adjusted his tie and recovered himself enough to laugh. “Imagine trying to strangle a vampire! And the one holding your life in his hands, no less. You’re one to talk of brainlessness. And just when I was beginning to respect your cunning.” Vincent opened his mouth and nothing came out, so he spat in LaCroix’s face instead.

“Oh for god’s sake - You don’t speak AND you don’t move!” Vincent smiled as he watched LaCroix wipe at his face with a handkerchief, scowling. But another wave of terrible compulsion spread through his limbs, and then he was paralyzed.

It was such a strange feeling, being “dominated.” It was the same magnetism that drew him to LaCroix when he first laid eyes on him (that must be the “vitae” he had spoken about), but stronger, and more concentrated. Making him capable of magnificent feats, making him motivated, drawing his focus, making things important to him. As if a power was bursting out from inside of Vincent. It wasn’t so unlike being high, and not wholly unpleasant. But it was not his to control, not a part of him. It was LaCroix’s, and he hated it for that, and he hated LaCroix for that too. Maybe, if he just held onto that hatred…

But LaCroix’s conversation with his Sheriff broke his concentration. “No, I don’t want him in a cell, much less his own apartment. He’s not fully dominated and it’s a security risk. I don’t understand it, but I need to maintain a tight hold over him even if I have to do it by manual override. He stays in the penthouse, with me.”

If The Sheriff understood that, he conveyed it only by grunting.

Damn it. Any chance to get out of LaCroix’s grasp was slipping away. Again, he struggled to protest, but it was useless. He couldn’t speak. His own body was refusing him. It felt traitorous and alien and there was no one to help him, no one looking for him, no Chidi ever again and absolutely nothing he could do. If he had a voice, he would probably be screaming, he realized. But instead, for the second time that day, he floated on a sea of bloody misery, gasping worse and worse by the second. As the jet went into final descent, its weightlessness hit him in the stomach and drove home a second wave of fear.

LaCroix was watching him, leaning over him, speaking to him, in much the same way one might speak to a broken printer shortly before kicking it. He lay a hand on Vincent’s chest to feel his shallow heartbeat and the very core of Vincent’s being rebelled against the way that it soothed him.

“Why are you not calm? You shouldn’t be feeling this way, I don’t understand why it’s not working…” He fixed LaCroix with the most hateful stare he could manage without moving his facial muscles. Why do you think, you useless fils de pute? He felt tears rolling silently down his cheeks. Fine. Good, even.

Again, LaCroix’s magnetic voice overpowered his will with a rush, even more hideously blissful than before. Perhaps it was more in harmony with him than the last had been... “Be calm, Marquis. I command you. Don’t be so afraid.”

And all the wild contents of his heart slipped away into a soft, empty, merciful void.

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Image Sources: One | Two

[zhansww]

Earlier today, I randomly checked if there were any screenings of Legend of the Condor Heroes in my city, fully expecting there not to be, but there actually was one, just half an hour later. (I checked for any of dd’s movies, too, but I never got to watch those here so ofc, I didn’t expect to be able to watch gg’s new movie either. So glad that I could, tho) I immediately drove to the cinema to watch it and just got back home now and have some thoughts.

First of all, I loved seeing Zhan-ge’s face on the big screen. Absolutely loved it. They kept the Mandarin subtitles on-screen and it was quite interesting to hear him speak Mongolian which didn’t fit the subs at all. I have no clue if this was just a dialect but it sounded like a different language to me. (Very reminiscent of hearing dd speak with a dialect in WuMing) The fight scenes Guo Jing had were all probably the highlights of the movie imo. In fact, I think it’s quite obvious that the battle and fight scenes were what the movie focused on the most which unfortunately made the rest of the film suffer for it but I’ll get to that. Another very important thing to mention is that there was fortunately no kiss scene, thank the lord. And to be honest, that’s all the praise I can give the movie. I would still absolutely recommend it for the sheer joy of seeing Zhan-ge’s face in the cinema and Guo Jing, being a badass.

Getting to the bad parts, I think Guo Jing’s competence may be something to criticize. Aside from the prologue, there is pretty much no growth for this character. He basically starts off as an incredibly strong fighter and he ends as such, too. On one hand, it’s def cool to see a competent character like that but on the other hand, when you don’t really see a character struggle and grow, it makes them less... real? I dunno how else to put it. Like, it’s a bit hard to like and relate to a character who is basically perfect, from beginning to end. I would have liked to see more of how Guo Jing became who he was. But clearly, there wasn’t enough time for that in the movie.

spoilery stuff under the cut~

As far as Guo Jing’s “love story” goes, it’s a great example of tell-don’t-show. Within the first ten minutes, we get told that those two characters are in love and then they sorta break up and like the next two thirds of the movie are dedicated to them, finding each other again. None of their scenes worked, on an emotional level, because there is nothing I saw of their romance so I also didn’t care for it one bit. There’s a second female character whose entire story line is just that of being the third wheel in this love triangle. Literally, the chemistry between the two female leads was a lot more compelling than the chemistry between either of these girls with gg, tho. There was even some weirdly romantic music playing during two of their scenes like bruh. I ship it.

There is one scene when Guo Jing has to escape and he wants to grab his mother to leave together but she kills herself so as not to be a burden to him. I had to stop myself from laughing when that happened because jesus fucking christ. It was such a ridiculous, inane death. But it was ofc presented as a very dramatic and sad scene. Bless gg and his glorious acting skills.

The whole movie was thick with plot and yet the plot felt way too thin. There was so much that wasn’t properly shown or explained or simply didn’t make sense. But you just have to roll with it. It was also so dramatic, right from the get-go, one dramatic scene followed the other, with barely any quieter scenes in between. It was basically a bunch of stories, happening in quick succession and squeezed together into a movie with not enough coherence. So, quite different from the usual format of rising action and a climax before the falling action and conclusion. I strongly feel that this shoulda been a drama rather than a movie.

But still, I am really happy I got to see this and I would also still recommend it. The ending had some loose ends actually, which makes me wonder if there’s going to be a second part. We’ll see~

[lillotte17]

This might be kinda stream of consciousness but I am deep in hyperfixation mode and I yammered on for like 2 hours to unsuspecting victims friends who hadn't played the game and surprisingly made myself feed kind of better about The Varric Thing in the process, so I want to see if I can get it down coherently somewhere...

I am still disappointed that they killed him the way that they did. Let's just get that out of the way. I don't think it was a satisfying ending for his character. Not to mention Epler coming out and admitting verbatim that I was correct in my earlier assumption that they literally only chose to kill him to make people hate Solas. So, you know, trying to get me to hate my favorite character by making him kill one of my other favorite characters. Thanks. Real two for one special as a fan.

But anyway, Varric is dead. And Solas uses his visage to talk to Rook outside of his Time Out Box, which Epler says (with what seems to be a typical lack of insight) that Solas does this to 'keep Rook off balance, but the Fade had other ideas.' (paraphrasing) ...Right. Solas didn't know how the Fade would react to his mind magic. SOLAS. Didn't understand how the FADE works. Inside the LIGHTHOUSE. You know, the part of the Fade HE BUILT.

*rolls eyes so hard I can see Andraste*

I wish we got more information about the limitations of what Solas can actually do with this power, and how it actually works. There wasn't really a point in the game where it made sense to explain it to us, but... Yeah. The best I can tell, I think the Varric we see is mostly Rook's memory of him, and what they expect to see and hear from Varric. He's a wish. Of course Solas' memory of Varric is in there too, and he is also controlling the dialogue that happens. Solas was (and in some ways still is) a spirit, and he reflects what people expect to see in him, and this seems to continue even as he's masquerading as someone else. His version of Varric is almost Too Nice, tbh. He does not Bitch nearly enough. And I think that's because it's just...not what Rook wants or needs to hear. Solas is being Your Good Friend Varric, who never gets mad, and always wants to listen to you, so you will trust him and Tell Him Things.

Which, the knee-jerk reaction to this (as intended) is: That's Fucked Up!

And...yeah. It is.

But then I started thinking about what Solas COULD have been doing with this power. He actually tells us in the game that he has done this to people before. He spent 12 years fucking with a warlord's head so that he heard nothing but laughter. The first time I heard that, I was thinking like...a whisper campaign spreading embarrassing stories, but if you listen to how he phrases the explanation, he says that literally EVERY sound he heard became laughter. That is mind manipulation babeyyy! He is a Dreamer! He can murder people in their sleep and make them see anything he wants them to see in the Fade. You know, where Rook and Co. are living. He clearly has restrictions on this power from being in his Time Out Box, but his connection to Rook is WAY stronger than he acts like it is.

If you can make someone see things that aren't there, you can pretty much manipulate them into doing anything. You can terrorize them with their worst fears. You can isolate them by making it seem like their friends and love ones hate them. Heck, you can just make sounds and lights that interrupt their sleep constantly, and that alone will eventually break someone's mind.

Solas needs Rook to bust him out of jail. He also needs them to Not Die, so that they CAN bust him out of jail. He knows Rook will not take his support (or even most of his advice) as the Dread Wolf. So, he puts on a Varric mask, and becomes their friend. Which seems like it must take a lot of concentration and power on his end. He has Varric take a lot of sudden naps. But still. He is their friend, their mentor, the kind voice who always tells Rook that they are capable and the right person for the job. I wish the game had leaned into this more, actually. That Rook could REALLY lean on Varric in times of distress, and Varric would talk them down, so when you got to the end you're not just mad that you got tricked, but you are ALSO sitting with the fact that like...the only reason Rook was keeping their shit together was because SOLAS took up Varric's mantle as your guide and your emotional support.

That you had to deal with the fact that Solas is both Fen'Harel the God of Lies, AND the voice of kindness and Wisdom guiding you through your perils.

Because THAT is Good Soup. THAT is the moral grey goodness that so much of the game sanitized. Because the idea that Solas did something Fucked Up, but it's also the only reason you won, is kind of his Whole Deal. That's the WHOLE POINT. That he is Wisdom AND Pride. He's a loyal friend AND a lying liar who lies. That the healer has the bloodiest hands, and sometimes the only way to save the world is by being kind of an asshole.

And I don't really feel like there is a place for Rook to really come to that realization. Which is disappointing. And possibly intentional. Ugh.

[secriden]

THK Episode 1 thoughts in no particular order or level of coherency:

I didn't see Fadel as Lawful Good coming, but at the same time it makes perfect sense now that I've seen the episode

Somehow, I now kinda ship First with both Joong and Dunk and I cannot explain it even to myself but damn.

Khaotung's ability to not just sound and act but nearly exude the presence of a naive innocent young man, head still in the clouds and dreaming of true love, is Truly Impressive. I actually believe, not only that he's younger than Fadel, but that he genuinely lacks the emotional maturity too even process the risk that Fadel sees.

I now appreciate so much what people said about First's almost understated detailed acting because those rapid shifts in his expressions said so much in tiny increments of time, I'm blown away.

Dunk is so pretty, Dunk is so pretty, DUNK IS SO FUCKING PRETTY!?!?!

But also please I adore everything Dunk did as Style he gave absolutely everything for that character and held nothing back. The way he just... went for it?? In all the scenes, every single one? I'm trying not to be too spoiler-y but damn, I get it when First said that Dunk really embodied Style because he really really DID!!!

That ending was genius my brain immediately lit up with all the ways this could go and I'm SO EXCITED

The way the sex wasn't even remotely the most insanity-inducing thing in this episode really goes to show how well this was made but also ITS HILARIOUS

Having said that, damn it was hot!!

Joong's eyebrows eyebrowing so hard <3

I don't think JoongDunk were meant to have sexual tension at all in this episode but they still felt very sexy to me. Maybe its just me, but it felt like tension even when Fadel is mostly just pissed off there's that... okay, you know how the opposite of love is not hate, but apathy? Guess what, zero apathy right here!!

I'm genuinely so happy with what we got though. It really is as light and silly and camp and gorgeous as they promised and I'm so so grateful for that. There's potential for devastation (I see you, Kant, hiding backstory hints inside your soft serve!), but also how lucky are we to get silly romantic shenanigans with the murder brother duo and their (future) flirty boyfriends???

Also the music!? Can we talk about THE MUSIC?? it was so... idk, like it was almost its own character in this episode. It was like audience direction with how much it would abruptly change the tone of the scene. I wonder if this will continue throughout the show or if they're doing it because it's the first episode and they're really really laying those comedy foundations down, but its fascinating.

I can't believe we get "Good Morning, krub" and "love at first sight" in the same episode omg ;A; <3

Style should've learned from the expert: