#I'm sure I'm not the first one to make these connections but y'know many thoughts head full

[extraterracetrial]

So a while ago I saw orivode's post reminding us that in Greek mythology, everything is ultimately the gods faults

Which yeah, the gods play with mortals like little chess pieces

And at first I was like "yeah except the cyclops thing, that was Ody's fuck up"

But no, that was Athena's fault

In the beginning of my goodbye there's a part that goes "and I warned ya, and you failed the test"

She made sure they ran into polyphemus. Yeah, they might've run into him anyway, and yeah Ody DEFINITELY shouldn't have given him his name

But if Athena hadn't interfered because she didn't like Ody (who totally isn't her friend btw, jsyk, she def doesn't care about him beyond her own goals) wanting to be kinder, they might've been in and out with a few sheep with no problems

I've been thinking about that one for a while but it did recently give me Fun New Thoughts about god games (wisdom saga spoilers)

Disclaimer ig: I've only listened to the god games snippets so this is mostly based off those

So as others have said, having Aphrodite talk about Ody's mother means the musical acknowledges she's the goddess of all kinds of love, not just romantic love

Obvs Athena directly calls Telemachus her friend, and if I didn't make it clear enough above, despite what she said I think Athena does care about Ody (i think the whole "I'm not looking for a friend" part was her like, trying to keep up a Godly Reputation, or just being mean bc she was mad at him, or both), and it's her love for them that gets Aphrodite on her side

(also, Athena's "please reconsider this" sounds a lot like Ody's "please don't make me do this" to me)

Which brings me to the Fun New Thoughts about god games

Does Athena feel guilty for kicking off the whole train of tragedy? She's a god I'd actually believe would feel remorse. It certainly goes against the teachings she referred to in my goodbye, but we've already seen her flip on friendship.

Is this another case of Ody (and Polities, indirectly) (and probably Telemachus) influencing someone to take a chance on kindness, connection, etc., while he slides further away from those? Maybe the real tragedy was the friends he made along the way /hj

[ennn]

Things I Liked About the Agatha All Along Finale - Initial Thoughts

Wooooo boy. Hey look I'm a bleeding heart shipper but I'm old and have been in enough fandoms. Let's process shall we?

Alice! Alice echo-ing what so many fans are saying about her lost potential. Rio actually being kind in reminding Alice her death did have purpose. "You're a protection witch, you protected someone."

The development of Billy's extremely complicated relationship with Agatha. Kid's not loyal to Agatha, he's understanding her, or starting to at least. He sees her being a relationship with Death and he's curious about the story there. He cares enough to connect the dots and see Agatha as a full person. And we see that developed as the finale goes.

"That's it? That's all the time that I get?" The show reminds us that death sometimes just happens – "Sometimes boys die" – I wonder if one of these writers is a Sandman fan because I immediately clocked a parallel to Death of the Endless taking a baby's life in her first comic appearance.

Death of the Endless is of course much kinder than Rio is with her (iconic) reply to that eternal question. "You lived what anyone gets... A lifetime."

That whole convo we got in the preview clip. And then them just sitting down and talking more? Albeit with layers of manipulation but y'know that's them.

Agatha telling Rio that she'll hand over Billy if Rio leaves her alone: essentially making Rio once again choose between her duty and her feelings towards Agatha. The deepest cut Agatha could make – which we see echoed with "If you do this I'll hate you forever." They know each other and the best ways to hurt each other.

I laughed waaaay too much at Agatha ragging on Jen's last vegetable name.

Jen's unbinding ritual was powerful and a fantastic moment for the character. She recognised and embraced her power. Agatha's mask slipping a little at the end as well. Amazing. Sasheer killed it.

The whole scene with Agatha working with Billy to bring Tommy back was beautiful and emotional and well put together and showed the side to Agatha that cements her as a great mentor (when she's not being the biggest murderous asshole).

Agatha using what she learnt from her Alice and Jen – and what Lilia told her – to hold her ground with Rio... okay it lasted like 10 seconds but it was a nice callback! Agatha's such a shameless survivor.

Incredible kissing. We knew Hahn and Plaza would deliver and they did. When it comes to kissing women, these two absolutely go for it.

Rio looking absolutely gutted with having to take Nicky away. Plaza really delivered with Rio's pain in these eps. Agatha calling her "my love", cursing and then begging.

Rio being soft about Nicky despite her job. Nicky willingly going with her with no fear, no hesitation – suggesting that they did bond somehow? Nicky knew she was a friendly face and trusted her. It was really a good death, all things considered. He wasn't sick, he wasn't in pain, he wasn't scared he simply fell asleep and just went.

Rio reminding Nicky to kiss his mom goodbye. She cares so much, as much as a personification of death can. It's funny how some people thought Rio was going to be this manipulative big bad but no, Agatha's the more toxic one in this relationship.

Okay like imagine Agatha finally dying and just straight up BOOKING it before Rio pops up. Rio hates ghosts. The number of times Agatha deliberately pissed her off this finale was amazing.

"I'm sure he'll forgive you for... whatever you did." Aw Billy is a good kid. Just like Nicky was. Agatha needs that reminder, that anchor to not be the Worst.

Chemistry aside, Agatha and Billy being mentor-pupil makes a ton of sense because these Maximoffs do the most fucked up shit (unintentionally) with their magic and Agatha's got the knowledge, charisma, cynicism, and the morals of a spinning compass to support him.

Alright when are they announcing the sequel / spin-off? I know there's a rumour of it happening. Rio's got 2 abominations and one endlessly aggravating ghost of an ex to deal with now.

[moonsaver]

Iris family!reader back at it again! Here's part 2 of this, which was VERY incomplete because tumblr decided to bust on me and upload it while i was still drafting!! I think this part might be more confusing, so feel free to ask about it right away!

Taglist is at the end of the fic hehe

-

Aventurine has an eye for craftsmanship. And very good ears.

You recall vividly. That's the first thing he mentioned about himself when he first introduced himself to you.

You know it's not a coincidence he's reaching out to you. Especially after a meeting with Mr. Sunday, which is his direct, formal contact with the Oak Family. You, on the other hand, were a direct, informal contact. The fact you were barely a notable singer in the plethora of talents Penacony held wasn't what mattered to Aventurine. Neither did it matter that you were from the Iris Family. Because to him, you were a one-way ticket to Sunday's mind. 

It's also no coincidence he's decided to drop by after he sees the wide open door of your room.

“I've heard well about your station, friend.”

He makes himself comfortable on the stiff couch of the hotel room, the fabric wrinkling and the frame creaking from the shift in weight.

“I.. don't need your help. I’m fine.”

“Can't hurt to always have connections, keeps you afloat, birdie.”

“Don't tell me that. I don't need any more. I've had enough.”

Aventurine smiles, and leans back into the couch, one of his arms lazily resting on the couch's and the finger of his hand tapping the top of his knee.

“Your earrings are the talk of the town, y'know?”

Your hand instinctively shoots up, and your fingers ghost the lobe of your ear. You're not wearing any at the moment.

“Is that so..?”

Your body language is jittery. Your hands keep fidgeting. Your lips hurt from the constant chewing, your finger rubs your earlobe.

Aventurine fiddles with his own, and gets up. He walks over to you with slow, easing steps.

“There's a cute little section in a few tabloids about those earrings. There's also a little fact that your ears burn red when you lie.”

Aventurine stands in front of you.

“That can't be right. It's totally bullshit.”

He chuckles at your response. He leans in, slowly, his breath ghosts the shell of your ears. The oddly sweet scent of expensive, exotic wine line his cool breath over your skin.

“There's also been that whole buzz about The Watchmaker's Legacy.”

The close proximity renders you paralyzed – many thoughts run through your head; should you push him away? Should you step away instead? Snap back at him?

You feel his gloved finger busy itself with your ear. A snap resounds loudly through your ear, and his hand retracts. So does he.

Your agitated gaze lingers on his smug face, and wanders over to his ears. They're red.

“I'll give you some advice – you should try and take advantage of chaos.”

His hand raises slightly, and his fingers barely kiss the skin of your elbows. It snaps something in you, and you immediately move to step back.

His other hand shoots up and grabs your arm in response.

“We can help each other, can't we, little sparrow? A glimpse of that man's mind is enough for me. I'll help you keep your family all safe and sound.”

“I– don't care what you have to offer. I am not taking that risk! This crap about The Watchmaker, I'm not having it! Find someone else to bother!”

Aventurine's smile widens, his eyes stare down at you. The concentric colours are almost hypnotising.

“Relax. The game's only started, I'm sure there's enough time for you to analyse the situation and pick a side. And things will fall into place all in due time.”

A knock.

Both you and Aventurine snap your heads to the source. The door creaks open.

Sunday stands, composed. His knuckles linger on the polished wood of the door for a few more seconds, before his hand falls to his side. His other hand holds a black, velvet bag.

You forgot to take that back.

“It seems we meet again.”

Aventurine hums.

‐

“Are you perhaps.. unhappy with your current circumstances?”

“No, I'm.. quite pleased with it. Please, don't take anything to heart. I was fervently denying all of his offers.”

Sunday chuckles softly.

“I understand. Please, be at ease.”

-

Sunday knew what lied in store for him when he became a part of the Family.

As their long-burdened history, all of them were to join and form an impenetrable force, decorating the Dreamscape lavishly for those who had the privilege to deny reality. 

Which was ironic.

It was comically ironic.

Such was their torment.

As eagles rip and gnaw the liver of human emotion, such was the painful symbolization of human strive. And this was a neverending story. A neverending performance of a traitor, prisoners and a false dream. A Death that surely extracts the price for all that has been done. A price that grows thick over the bones of each generation, for daring to dream together, for daring to yearn for freedom.

Some knew of this history. Most were not privy to it.

Sunday tells you in passing, as his gloved fingers gently drop the velvet bag in your hand. You suppose it was simple small talk.

A beat of silence passes.

“Ah, I may have fed a false fact to that Tabloid.”

You look up at Sunday.

“Im sorry?”

“I wasn't aware of whether or not your ears turn red. They were eager for a harmless fact, and I conjured up something on the spot.”

“Oh, they.. approached you directly?”

“They first approached Robin, to be exact. I arrived just in time to answer a small question. My apologies for making a hasty decision at a presented opportunity.”

You blink a few times.

“Ah, well.. not like it can be helped now but.. please be careful. One thing tends to lead to another.”

“I've taken note of that.” his eyes focus on the lobe of your ear.

What's he looking at..?

Your hand cautiously reaches up to your ear. Aventurine's earring?

“Oh, um.”

You break out in a sweat, and your shaky hands immediately remove it. You look at the flashy, teal accessory. Then you look at Sunday, gauging his reaction.

He smiles. Perhaps that fact wasn't false.

“I suggest not striking a deal with Aventurine. I can assure your family's security.”

“Oh, I know I just–”

“The Family does not take dealings with the IPC lightly.”

You stay silent.

He sighs, and his gaze seems to soften for a moment. His gloved hand reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Apologies. The Charmony festival is coming soon. Extra measures have been established. Please, approach me instead.”

His voice softens at the end.

“I.. understand.”

‐

Sunday thinks a change of your career is in order.

A brand new start, a better title, a better colleague.

Somewhere along the way, most of Penacony's more enthusiastic visitors were in the know about you. Your popularity settled comfortably on event lists, and Sunday was steadfast in his promise.

However, there's now an increase in work. Particularly, working late at night with Sunday.

Your job now had strict parameters you didn't have in your former station. Deadlines, reports, even hearsay playing an important role. Although, for once your rusty luck has come into play, and Sunday is much more fair to you than any other manager that you could have been working under, if it weren't for your decision to become a singer.

That being said, the public now saw less of you, which instead soared rumours about you and increased your popularity more. You aren't sure how to thank Sunday – he only gives you a closed eye smile whenever you decide to at least verbalise your gratitude.

‐

“Ah, you should take a look at this.”

Sunday beckons you to come closer, pointing and curling his index finger towards you. You oblige wordlessly, and with a few swift clicks of your shoes, you stand right beside Sunday, leaning a bit to take a better look.

His finger points to several figures in the document, and you hum, eyes scanning through the neatly organised words.

“Does this mean I'll get significantly busier?”

“You best prepare, as per my suggestion.”

You sigh, a bit dramatically, and Sunday chuckles.

“My apologies. I know I've already asked for a lot from your end. I shall support you equally.”

“That's.. well, alright. I was just worried about something else.”

You avoid his eyes, discomfort creeping up on you, as those rumours swirl in your head. 

“Be at ease, tell me.”

“It's.. the rumours surrounding me. They're not serious but, recently they've taken a strange turn of events.”

Sunday hums. He gets up, and walks towards a bookshelf, his fingers slide over their spines, and stop at a specific book. You continue,

“It's– um.. quite strange.”

Sunday pulls out the book, and opens it, sifting through the pages with familiarity.

“It was just about the earrings at first but they took a bit of a bizarre turn.. they–”

Sunday snaps the book shut,

“About us. Yes. I've heard.”

You blink a few times.

“They're..”

His fingers trace over the book's cover, before sliding it back into its place.

“Rumoured relationships between us, the debate about work ethics, and the whole lot. Yes, I'm well-informed.”

He turns to you. His all too familiar smile still on his face. His golden eyes seem much more intimidating than they used to.

“They'll die down. I can assure you they are of no importance. However, it helps with your exposure doesn't it?”

He turns his back to you, continuing to look at you over his shoulder.

“They will fizzle out in due time.”

You suppose Sunday is familiar with rumours. But this time, it is only particularly because he created them.

‐

The robin chirps and twits inside its golden cage.

“What's this?”

You smile, a finger gently tapping a bar of the delicate cage,

“It's a robin. I hoped it would guide you during practice.”

You chuckle, and Sunday smiles, both of your eyes fixated on the bird that's chirping and curiously tilting its head at you.

Sunday's encouraged you to practice singing more often inside the office. You've gotten off of your formal duties very late, and as of recent you've scarcely had time to practice. Sunday's insistence led to you often humming and practicing in front of your dressing table. It took a while, but you eased into it fairly well. 

Sunday, on the other hand, enjoys your singing more than he lets on. He finds himself humming to your tune every so often, once you've left and no other ambience fills the room. Perhaps that's also one of the reasons he's brought a robin bird to you.

You sing a simple tune, and the robin follows. It chirps happily, and you giggle at its strange antics. And thus, whenever you aren't present, the bird sings in your stead.

It's not soon before the robin loses its vitality, however. A gilded cage is a cage nonetheless.

Your voice was dampened that day. But Sunday had a plethora of ideas rush to his head.

‐

Something's been wrong with your voice as of recent.

You've avoided any strange drinks, even foregoing any kinds of juices, only opting for water. You avoid even spicy foods, settling for blander dishes. Sunday assures you it's nothing to worry about – even Robin faces challenges with her voice sometimes.

You're at your best, only in Sunday's office.

Everytime you sing, your voice flows smoothly, and you hit every note perfectly. It's wonderful, if it weren't for the fact your voice didn't seem to hold this effect outside of his office. You came to this realisation late at night when you tried singing in the bathroom to yourself, your voice kept tapering, and even stopped at some points. The doctors all assured you things were fine, and at best only prescribed some throat medicine. You wonder what's been going wrong.

Sunday isn't ignorant of your recent concerns, either. He seems to be taking it in stride.

The golden cage is on your dressing table, empty. You stare at it, thoughts swirling in your head. What went wrong? Where? Why? What did you do? 

Sunday's familiar gloved hands place themselves upon your shoulders again. It's a shame. He says. What is a robin without its voice? He says. It echoes in your mind for days. 

“Take a break.” one of his gloved hands make it's way to yours, folded in your lap. He brings your knuckles up to his lips, whispering assurances into it.

“It'll be fine. I'll take care of it.” He kisses between the valley of your knuckles,

“Don't worry. Help me out with the rest of the documents, and we can take a look at your voice after.”

You don't say anything. Maybe because you can't.

-

“Hmm.. your voice tapers too much at the chorus.”

You sigh. You've lost count of how many times you've had to repeat this song, your voice simply cannot seem to hold true to the chorus that's planned. Sunday flips another page of a long-winded document, and sets it down gently on the table, looking up at you when you sigh and only hold onto the mic with disappointment glazing your eyes.

“Have a seat. Perhaps a break may help you.”

You hesitantly oblige, but sigh again, deeply, as the muscles of your throat ache with the strain and relaxation. You sit down at the makeshift dressing table Sunday managed to prepare for you. His courtesy, of course.

You shuffle around it – your dressing table isn't actually much different than Sunday's office desk. It's littered with event planners, schedules, and all sorts of graphs and figures. Your hands lazily pick up a sheet and scan over it, choosing to at least distract yourself while you give your raw throat a rest.

You hear a muffled creak behind you, followed by a few, small footsteps. Sunday stands behind you in the reflection. His hands gently come up to your hair, fingers running through it and fixing it.

“Some members of the Family – particularly the Nightingale Family, wanted to extend their gratitude to you. You've been arduously managing the crowd and shifting their gazes away from the construction work.”

You hum slightly, your eyes unfocused on the words. Sunday's touch seems to leave you dazed, or rather conflicted, these days. 

His fingers leave your hair, and rest on your shoulders. He leans down, his lips graze the shell of your ear. His soft breath tickles your skin, and forms goosebumps.

“And I am.. personally grateful to have you working alongside me.”

Your eyes wander on your table. They avoid his gaze through the mirror's reflection.

“I also.. intend to help you, further than before.”

His voice grows softer and lower, descending into a whisper. One of his hands move from your should to the middle of your collarbone, a lone finger drags up to the middle of your neck. Your breath hitches.

“Mr. Sunday..?”

“It's alright. We needn't be so formal.”

Suddenly, a splotch of colours blur your vision from the corners. You hiss, and groan, immediately burying your head into your hands, striking pain pulses through your head. You close your eyes in efforts to relieve yourself, but it doesn't cease.

“Perfect Harmony.. Order.. it doesn't come easily. Allow me to assist you in reaching that.”

You breathe heavily, the pulsing ache in your head slowly subsides, but the colours remain persistent.

“Sunday..?”

“My dear, let us rejoice. A new chapter of your life has begun. Your family can find ease. We- no, I, can take care of them. Of you.”

You swallow thickly, dread pooling in your stomach. The finger on your neck trails up your neck and pushes your chin upwards, forcing you to face your reflection. The side of Sunday's face is pressed to yours, your eyes are dazed, but his have never been so clear, and bright.

“Just do as you've always done. This is simply to bolt your loyalty, my dear.”

Sunday kisses your cheek, his wings gently flutter on the other side of your face. You close your eyes. The pain subsides into something more blissful, calming. Your body relaxes almost against your will.

‐

Your voice has been perfect as of late. As long as you don't sing for anyone.

Which is to say – you're rendered useless in the grand scheme of Penacony. This terrifies you.

Your family has never been more vulnerable.

What is a robin without her voice? It echoes irrevocably in your mind, the question awaiting an answer. Nothing responds. Nothing, responds.

Empty ballads accompany the marble walls of the hallway leading to Sunday's office. His back is turned to you, his fingers sifting through the spines of familiar books on his shelf. His wings slightly flutter every time your voice hits a high note. Your voice was pitch perfect whenever you sang in his office. Anywhere else? It was a bust. Robin also tried her hand at comforting you, but the tapering edge of her voice only concerned you. An emanator of harmony relied completely on just that to sustain her voice. She'd lost it completely otherwise.

Your lips are raw from the constant biting. Your family tries assuring you they can also pull together scraps and bits to keep themselves afloat; that you've worked hard enough, and you need your rest. Sunday assures their security as always. He's stopped commenting on your concerns with your voice.

“Sunday, my voice..”

“Perfect, my dear.”

He's grown more familiar with using pet names instead of your name. You don't remember exactly when the transition took place.

“No, it's.. I can't sing anymore. I can't perform.”

“Ah, is that so?”

Sunday's deft fingers write something down on a scrap of paper, holding the book open in another hand.

“Not to fret, darling. The public awaits your performance in due time. Take a break for now, and focus on paperwork.”

It does more to discourage you, really.

“I don't know.”

“I know.”

Sunday places the book down gently on his table. He looks at your seated figure, illuminated by the warm light of his office.

Sunday wanted the best for Penacony. But when it came to you, he couldn't help but be greedy. Your voice was beautiful to him. He feels bad, raining on your parade like this. But there's endless amounts of performers who can take your place. There's only one of you who can catch his eye, however.

An empty cage is reminiscent of a happy bird. But a chirping robin is reminiscent of a happy man. Your lost voice still echoes well through the halls, resounding through the marble structures.

A gilded cage is a cage nonetheless. A happier bird is one that does not realise its cage. Sing to your heart's desire in it, he thinks. 

Your head falls to your hands again, blurring splotches of colour blaze through your vision and head again – a familiar, aching pulse resonates in your head. Your voice feels trapped. Sunday walks to you, and places a hand on your back, rubbing gently to soothe you. The colours disappear, leaving you in a daze. Sunday leans down to kiss your forehead, relaxing your furrowed brows.

It's true. You've proven it. A bird that does not realise it's true confines. You may be unhappy, but you sing your throat raw, and Sunday is your only audience. Parameters will only get stricter, but it's for your own good. He assures you endlessly, leaving out that one piece of information.

A robin without a voice is nothing but a dull bird. You, without yours, are just his.

-

Taglist: @sharkiethrts @sarcastic-cookie

[heich0e]

suguru's throat feels tight.

not in the nice way—like when someone pays you a compliment you aren't expecting, or you're given a thoughtful gift.

his airway is a vice; sticky and closing in on itself like a boobytrap in those terrible action movies that satoru always makes him watch, where the walls are slowly crushing inwards on the hero, leaving no obvious way to escape.

his face feels hot—too hot for the meagre amount of alcohol he's had to drink that evening. hot enough that he's sure his cheeks are flushed a vicious red. he looks down at his hands, still wrapped around the half-drained drink between them, and when he pulls one away from the circumference of the glass he sees the way his fingers tremble, moved by a force only he can feel.

he sets his cup down on whatever surface is within reach and looks for the nearest exit.

the bar is crowded, and every body that jostles him on his odyssey to the door makes him feel even more sick to his stomach—makes him acutely, and uncomfortably aware of just how many people are jammed into such a confined space. with every step he takes towards the fire exit (the one which at this point he just has to pray isn't connected to some kind of alarm) it seems to be growing further away, like his steps are a paradox he's trapped in.

finally, finally, his hands press down against the push bar of the door, and cold winter air hits his burning cheeks like a slap.

he's on his knees retching into the grimy snowbank that lines the back alley before the door has even fully swung closed.

"oh, wow,—"

suguru can barely hear you over the sound of his pulse in his ears. it was too noisy in the bar to make it out this clearly, lost in the thrum of the bass-heavy music and the spiral of his thoughts, but now it's unmistakable. it pounds in his head, under his tongue, trapped in the walls of his throat.

he lifts his head, his eyes bleary from the tears his exertion had sprung to them, and he sees a figure a few paces away from him with a cigarette lifted to their lips.

he blinks hard, willing the world to come back into focus. as it does (painfully slowly,) he can see you better. the first thing he can clearly make out is the oversized jacket you have wrapped around your frame (big enough that it can't possibly be your own.) his eyes flicker next to the bare legs that peek out from underneath it, and trail all the way up to the lines of your face as you watch him. but it's your eyes that make him falter for a moment: curious but strangely impassive at the same time.

"—rough night?" you ask, but you make no move to come any closer to him.

he's grateful for at least that small mercy, he can't help but think.

"sorry," he chokes out, spitting into the sludgy grey snowbank one last time just to try and get the terrible taste out of his mouth. he stands unsteadily, his hands braced against the brick wall of the bar to keep himself balanced. "i didn't even drink that much."

he's not sure why he feels the need to say it, or make any effort to save face when you've just seen him at what's surely one of the lowest points of his life. you're a stranger, after all. what does it matter, anyway?

you hum a bit, taking another drag from your cigarette. the sound is halfhearted, and it upsets him unjustly.

"i really didn't," he insists, wiping at his mouth with the back of his knuckles and turning to you properly. "i-i'm on these new meds and they've got me all fucked up."

your eyes widen a bit, and he watches the way the smoke slips out of your lips—painted a rich, ruby colour for the evening.

"no shit?" you ask him. "you shouldn't be out partying if you're sick, y'know. alcohol can really fuck up scripts."

"i'm not sick," he replies quickly. too quickly. too ardently to possibly be true. and the silence that follows is too heavy for such a cold, still night. he looks away, fixing his eyes on the road at the end of the alley.

"oh," you drag out the word, an understanding lilt in your tone. "those kinda meds."

suguru glances back to you.

"so," you take a step towards him, and it sets his teeth on edge. "what's your poison of choice then? paroxetine? fluvoxamine? good ol' fashioned escitalopram?"

suguru's head is still spinning from the liquor, but his pulse has died down a bit. now his mouth feels uncomfortably dry.

you keep going.

"are you taking it neat or did they give you a little chaser with it too for a bit more"—you make a little flourishing gesture with your hand—"oomph."

you're right in front of him now. close enough that the smell of your cigarette has finally reached him. suguru can't help but eye it covetously, longing for the pack in his own coat pocket, left somewhere in the bar. you follow his eyes and laugh a little, holding the half-smoked cigarette out to him. it has a lipstick mark on the filter, but he takes it anyway.

he sucks in a greedy, needy inhale.

the rush of nicotine hits him right away, comforting and familiar. his exhale feels almost rapturous.

he takes another little puff, then extends the cigarette back out to you.

"don't worry about it,"—you wave the gesture off—"you can keep that one on account of the whole... y'know..." your eyes flicker down to the snowbank where geto had just been retching.

oh, right.

"thanks," he mumbles appreciatively, wasting no time before he takes another drag.

the two of you stand side by side in the dingy alley while geto finishes off your cigarette. he crushes it under the heel of his boot, grinding it down into the cracked asphalt, once it's done.

"how'd you know?" he asks after a few more moments of silence. the cold is starting to get to him now—registering in a way that didn't when he first made it outside. the chill bites at his cheeks and his nose, stinging in its frigidity.

"know what?" you feign coyness, tilting your head a little to the side. he sees a flicker of something behind your eyes again that slips through the facade of composure—something mirthful, and maybe a little mean.

he swallows, and tastes tobacco on his tongue. "about the anti-depressants."

you laugh a bit to yourself, but the sound is strained like you're almost trying to bite it back. "don't take this the wrong way, but you just sort of look like the type."

he looks at you—really looks at you—then.

you're pretty.

he supposes he recognized that already, even if he didn't process it properly at the time. your lips look soft, your eyes draw him in, and in any other circumstance he thinks you might have been the type of girl he sidled up alongside in a bar just like the one he just fled and tried to start a conversation with.

but these aren't any other circumstances. you just watched him puke his guts up in a filthy alley and then guessed his SSRI prescription like the world's worst game show. and to make matters worse, his dick hasn't even been working right lately since he started these new pills.

as though life wasn't already cruel enough.

the fire exit flies open again, and all attention turns to it.

"there you are," shoko is standing in the doorway, half-in and half-out of the bar, cringing against the cool evening air. she frowns in suguru's direction. "we've been looking everywhere for you."

suguru watches as she ducks her head back through the doorway, but whatever she calls over her shoulder is lost to the music that's bleeding out into the alley from inside the bar. gojo appears behind her in an instant, his displeased expression brightening immediately upon seeing his friend. he pushes his sunglasses up atop his head, his white hair pinned back underneath them.

"suguru!" he cheers. "we lost you."

"i was just getting some air," suguru smiles blithely, in the way that he's perfected.

gojo shoulders his way out the door towards suguru, dragging him back towards the door with an arm slung around his neck. shoko's eyes flicker over to you.

"oh, hey," she says, nodding in greeting.

"shoko-senpai," you return her greeting politely.

"are you coming back in too?" she asks.

gojo and geto both pause in the doorway, turning to glance back at you.

"no, i'm heading home," you say with an easy smile, not unlike the expression geto had just shown. "you three have a nice night."

"get home safe," she calls after you, a lilt of curiosity in her tone. you lift a hand over your shoulder as you walk away, waggling your fingers in a lazy wave.

"who was that?" gojo asks as the door swings shut behind shoko. he leans in front of suguru so his voice can be heard over the loud music.

"she's a junior in my department at school," shoko explains, "don't you recognize her?"

gojo purses his lips as he contemplates it and then shakes his head definitively. it's not unusual for satoru not to recognize someone, especially a pre-med student instead of a physics student like himself, but suguru is a bit surprised that he can't recall meeting you previously.

satoru tugs suguru's arm back towards the thick of the crowd, and he braces himself for the oncoming barrage of stimulation. he freezes just before he takes his first step, whipping back around to the door.

"what's wrong?" satoru asks him, leaning over his shoulder. he's got his sunglasses on again, and now suguru can't through the lenses in the dim light of the bar, but he knows satoru well enough to picture the wide-eyed look of curiosity that must be behind them.

suguru's brow pinches in a bewildered furrow.

"was she wearing my coat?"

[wispythreads]

The Lair of the Shadowbroker DLC definitely earned its fan praise, in my opinion. This feels like Mass Effect 1 level of artistry and level design, I love it.

There were like, way too many enemies, and I still don't really feel great about how they changed Liara in just a two year time gap between the games, but I appreciate the way this DLC handled it, it made an effort that resulted in her feeling more like how she felt in the first game.

The scene after Tela got revealed as the one who had been trying to murder Liara at the start of all this was rough, Shepard and her slipping off the window ledge, falling together, slowed down only by Tela's biotics until she shoves Shepard the rest of the way to the ground, while she gets to gently float down to make her escape. That impact looked like it HURT, especially with how much effort she had to put into getting back up again.

Shepard honestly sounded so grumpy and dejected as she said "I'm okay, by the way, thanks for asking." before hopping into the car with Liara.

And speaking of the car, I loved the banter between Liara and Shepard the whole way through, but particularly during the car chase, which was really fun! "Head on Collision!" - Liara "I hear that's bad for people." - Shepard. All the little bits of back and forth were so great to listen to, wouldn't mind replaying just for that bit of the DLC alone.

The actual Lair itself was so so so pretty.

The boss fight against the Shadowbroker is probably my favorite across all all of Mass Effect 1 and 2? Especially with the cutscenes where Shepard realizes ah ok ammo won't do anything that's fine I'll just punch him

Really cool alien design too.

Mini thoughts from snooping on my squadmates dossiers below.

Straight up chortling over Mordin and Kirrahe's bickering and how it is preserved in their mission report He really should've realized something was going to be up on Maelon's end... Nice of them to try and shelter him from any repercussions for his outburst, but he needed followed up on much sooner than when Mordin thought he'd been kidnapped. The list of threat analysis against all the other main species holy- not surprising, honestly, based on what is known about Salarians, but still pretty interesting ... So not only is he a musical enthusiast in his spare time but also a Bill Nye the Science Guy type? That's neat. Good for him.

I hope we get to reunite Jack with her mom. That would be nice.

LEGION IS A GAMER I love this little cluster of AI so much. He has so many infractions on that online game that technically are true due to the fact that he's. Not an organic being. But the only one that sticks is him taunting other players- that's so silly aww… he bought the highest (and most likely most expensive) version of a game that was fundraising for the events of Eden Prime, just for the fundraiser. He did not play that game at all. He even tried a dating simulator oh my gosh. I don't think he's hopeless =( what a mean ranking for a dating sim. He's spent so much time on it, too… (not as much as the other games, but still a significant time investment my gosh)

ahhh this is where Grunt's fanon characterization of being Shepard's son starts coming in. I do think the main game version of him and his relationship with Shepard, a paragon!Shepard at that, is interesting, but it wasn't lining up with what I was seeing online. (and by main game version I mean the transition of [Talking about how great it is we've got so many strong enemies to fight against] "I don't plan on living like this forever" "Talk like that and it won't be your choice. I'm sure as hell not quitting with a whimper. Just so you're clear where we stand." [Hyper aggressive and enjoying memories of gruesome kills] "I'm not sure I want to keep coming down for these talks..." "Whatever. Don't have to be friends to be allies." [Still hyper aggressive and enjoying memories of gruesome kills] "Y'know, I kind of thought connecting with your past would bring stability." "Ha! See, now we're having fun. Me remembering good deaths, and you with your... funny human thing you're doing.") I think there is something very sweet about him being enamored with dinosaurs and looking up to Shepard so much that he wants to know about the whole of Humanity's history as warriors :')

The transmission between Samara and her daughters... all the things she had to give up in order to become a Justicar...

!!! THANE GET THE LUNG TRANSPLANT YOU HAVE A SON YOU NEED TO CONNECT WITH AND I CARE ABOUT YOU SO MUCH DON'T JUST GIVE UP AND DIE IN A YEAR!! LIVE! LIVE AS A PERSON AND NOT A WEAPON!! I love how his kill methods are so elaborate and the alternate methods are equally intricate, with the Krogan's main method understandably being the most involved and calculated. And then you get to their alternate method and it's just one word. It gives this impression of hands to his head exhausted and resigned.

... Garrus's family… his mom…. god that's hitting a little too close to my heart....

[str4ngr]

So don't know if you do school au's or not but this is for your 800 followers prompt board.May ask this with other fandoms

Fluff 2. bully x nerd

headcanon or ramble of your thoughts whatever works for you

But if it could be with the twist of the reader being the bully. More of the smart, manipulative, sit back and watch "If I have other people to do my dirty work, why get my hands dirty myself?(⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧" Type. Y'know

Maybe runs a delinquent gang korac (korack?spelling's hard) or 141. ¯⁠\⁠(⁠°⁠_⁠o⁠)⁠/⁠¯ idk feel free to take and leave what you want.

Character ideas:

Teacher's pet/nerd!Kyle who reader "asks"orders to let them see there notes after class behind the school "I wanna see how the top of the class organized all that info into one sheet of paper🥺", only too burn it in front of him with a lighter. later rubbing it in once the next test scores come through with a disappointing look from mr.price and a 67 return grade.

Dumb jock!Johnny who reader calls "soap" because he needs a bath.

Quiet kid!Simon that is as important as a ghost in the day time, Aka not.(To reader at least)

Pushover!könig that reader makes do all their heavy lifting bc "I'm the brain an your the bron, you'd be nowhere without me🤭"

History teacher!Mr.Price that can't prove that it's reader that is pulling the strings behind that sweet model student mask they put on.

I just need more mean reader 😭. Maybe reader find it amusing that someone like them is able to be picked on and that's why they bully them.

Have a lovely rest of your day

your majesty.

t.f.141 & könig. | my drug, my addiction.

cw: suggestive[?], obsession, foul language, age difference, mentions of bullying/hazing, college au, gn! reader. wc: 812. notes: kind of not x reader, idk. this is longgggg. also idk how to resolve this so it's like lowkey mid-story type shit. not proofread.

being the ball and staff holder of your little college was real fun. no body here really cared for your classes or your degrees, besides, going to those parties with too much alcohol and only one drinker, circulating those bloody-face pictures, and sending dares through burners, was far, far, more worth while.

professor price

obvi gonna make this a college au

i think his first instinct would to go after your underlings/ the physical perpetrators.

he wouldnt be able to catch them without evidence, but he would keep a close eye.

he observes them during any class he lectures of can sneak into but doesnt notice a direct connection between the victims and the bullies. many were in different classes, majors, floors, buildings, but there was always someone.

you.

attractive, intelligent, and charismatic, the idea of you being associated with this vicious bullying left a bitter stain on his tongue. but price couldnt deny it. you were always there. never missed a day of class, never missed a beat in taking your usual seat in the lecture hall of neither the front not back.

price goes home that day with a tug of war on his mind. he wasnt sure what to do. he could say, yes, you were there, but you werent when kyle was dragged to the back hallway.

he became almost obsessed, enthralled by the idea of, maybe, just maybe. it was a hard game.

you grinned to yourself as you stared at the newly "earned" money in your hands. you grinned knowing 'your' top grades were yours. you grinned because someone noticed, and now it was all the more fun. it was a long, long stretch. a bloody dance of two double-edged swords fighting for a purpose of neither justice or protection. truly just the adrenaline.

kiss-ass kyle.

kyle was almost helpless at the sidelines, chased down, mocked, and cheated.

"kyle, your grades have been falling, is there anything you want to talk about?"

you grinned when you heard prices voice from behind the ajar door, where he and kyle stood, revising kyle's most recent test scores.

top of class to barely passing?

price couldn't believe it. it was out of character for one of his best students to be spiraling down so rapidly.

"no, i'll do better."

he didn't.

you're staring at the way prices lips twitch into a frown, eyes flat as he hands kyle his paper. upside down.

lacky könig & toy johnny.

when könig first transferred to your college, it was awkward. how does someone with such a thick accent integrate to the cliquiest college? how but then such a sweet, beautiful, top student greet him, welcomes him with open arms

he was a lost puppy, following you without a leash, hearts in his eyes as he grabs another annoying rugby player.

your silky voice ringing in his ear,

"koko? do me a favor, make sure that soap kid doesn't come near me again?"

he didn't even need you to negotiate, he nodded, heavy stature shoving poor johnny against the brick wall of a far away storage building.

könig's imaginary tail wags behind him as he showed you a photo of beaten and pulped johnny,

"told him to never even look at you again!" his gruff voice would mutter, eyes brightening as you whisper,

"good boy."

johnny really became a toy after that. clueless and submissive to your insults as you berate him after each gym class, rolling oyur eyes in objective disgust while looking him up and down,

"sad the only clean part about you is the fact i call you 'soap', now fuck off, you're making it hard to breathe."

silent simon.

why bother with him.

simon was quiet, always.

so to you, he was really nothing more than a stick on the road that you had to run over.

and snap.

of course, it was easy. he didn't whine, hiss, growl. i imagine that he was lanky, tall, but skinny. and of course, when you see such an easy target, who are you not to take it?

you decided having könig be the one to break him wouldn't be any fun, but watching as the guy who already struggled with having any social life slowly get pushed farther and father into isolation?

now that was fun.

first you took his dumb himbo friend johnny, who was beat to a pulp, and told it was all simons fault.

dumb dog never spoke to him, and how fun it was to watch simon stare from afar as one of his only friends left him to eat lunch by himself.

next was kyle, who was kind enough to help simon with their history class.

"Kyle, keep talking to that hoodie kid, and i'll make sure the only thing that's ruined isn't just your grades."

You smile as kyle urgently responds to the texts in desperate pleas and promises to never speak to him. He didn't know it was you, but he did know you would follow through with your words.

notes: ughhh i hope i did this rq properly especially because i took so long on itt. sorry for taking so long, i was kind of struggling with how to portray each character in a cohesive setting.

[kairiscorner]

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

since you silly little pooks are down bad little gremlins,

make sure to look him in the eye when he's talking to you.

summary: you made a grave mistake, directly disobeying orders from the big man himself, miguel o'hara, and endangering him and the rest of your team on a mission. thank goodness it was just his suit that suffered the damage, but you and him have a lot to talk about. alone. you know, if you wanted to be a little brat... you should just tell him straight up, but you can't even look at him right now. it's very disrespectful not to look at someone in the eye when they're talking to you, y'know?

word count: 2,541

warnings: slight degredation (nothing too bad, just a lot of reminding you about what you did was stupid), mentions of scars and wounds, slight cursing, and bad spanish translation (please correct me if i'm wrong!)

"tú… vas a ser mi muerte." he said in a low voice, a complete octave lower than the voice he used to scream orders at you to fall back, not to head straight first for the villain; but of course, spiders your type were never one to listen.

an annoying little maggot, that was miguel's assessment of you since the very minute you set foot in this facility. every mission that ever went south was due to you and your hubris, your incompetence, your need to flaunt your bravado in combat. you were lucky he put off kicking you out and cutting off all your connection to everyone at HQ, because you were a hair's length away from overstepping the very boundary of staying in this elite force of spider people to finding yourself disgraced from them.

you always gloated your strength, how many villains you took down in your universe, and were loud and rowdy. trying to break into your place in the spider society, you felt, was one of the easiest things to do. just make friends, punch the bad guys, and then the rest comes easy. but the reality of it was far from what you imagined, it was... seriously not what you imagined.

"i couldn't understand a single thought that entered that head of yours as we were fighting." miguel scolded you in a strained voice as he was being patched up by his machinery. the side of his face was bloodied, it would leave scars, but none that noticeable. his knitted eyebrows and piercing brown turning red eyes were fixated upon you and your hunched over, insecure, shrinking figure as you felt him diminish every ounce of your self-confidence bit by bit.

he sighed in exhaustion as he flinched at the treatment of his machineries, shaking his head slowly as he massaged his temples slowly, wishing that the frustration you gave him from your pathetic stunt would just disappear. but the pain never eased, instead, it merely intensified; he grunted as the machineries patched him up, the nanofibers of his suit dissipated as you watched splotches of his bronze, tanned skin emerge from the once dark blue and red patches of his suit.

you couldn't help but watch as the suit glitched slightly as it went away, disappearing into nothingness as his flesh wounds were being patched up. "tan jodidamente estúpida. so... so fucking stupid." he muttered out as he released a string of grunts from his soft, caramel lips as lyla adjusted the settings of the machinery as they patched him up.

"do you not value your own life?" he asked out with a low voice, as if he didn't care what answer escaped the confines of your lips, whatever words formed out of your mouth, as long as you spoke, he'd find something, anything, to retort to your argument--to prove you did a stupid, stupid thing. and that you were so stupid for not listening to him.

you opened your mouth slightly ajar to speak, to utter even a single word; to release a single sound from your vocal cords... but nothing. your throat as dry as an abandoned well, as dry as a vast, sandy desert, as an unirrigated field that once bore fresh crops.

you had nothing when he peered at you from above like this, glowering over you and penetrating your once keen and eager to fool around facade, whittling you down to nothingness.

"what? not gonna say anything?" he asked, his voice a little louder and more composed now as the healing process began and mended at the worn and torn muscles on his beautifully sculpted figure. he slowly stood up, his legs quaking slightly as he tried to carry himself up. he lost his balance for a few seconds and clung on to his desk to support himself. his breathing was labored, his nostrils were flared; he was pained and furious.

you felt a shiver crawl up your spine as he turned to face you, a good portion of the mesh fabric on the left side of his body was completely dissipated, the cuts inflicted on the suit turned white and glitched out, spasming, distorting the image on his body. miguel noticed you were staring and tried to hide the limping of his leg as he strut over to you, his left leg being pushed off the ground faster than his right.

you felt a wave of shame engulf you, reminding you that this very man almost sacrificed himself to save you while you seemed like a very cute spider to skin for the villain you faced off not long ago, who you provoked and brought your team to their attention, endangering all of you. he fought them off as best as he could, but he was continually on the receiving end of the blows and punches the villain reserved for the rogue little spider that weaved a web too obvious for its prey to fly into.

you didn't listen to miguel when he told you to--

"i told you to stay put," he admonished you in an irrefutably strained voice that he tried his hardest to mask with anger, or irritation. he didn't like to be looked upon as weak, as pitiful, and he sure as hell wasn't going to show that side of him to you of all people. never, in a million years, ever.

he grabbed your cheeks as he noticed your downcasted gaze and angled your face up to gaze into his now red eyes. "weren't you ever taught to look people in the eye when they're talking to you?" he questioned you for your seemingly rude demeanor as he tightened his grip on your cheeks, insinuating that he was quite irked with how, not only did you risk his and everyone else's lives on your team, but you dare disrespect him in his own office while he was already limping--suffering the repercussions of your own hasty decisions.

miguel breathed in deeply, his chest expanding as he took in that deep breath. he shut his eyes to collect himself so as not to let his frustration explode all over you right then and there. he was ready to burst at you, burst at you and let you feel everything he's been holding in from you for the longest time. it drives him mad knowing he's let you provoke him all you want, all the time. he wants to get his control over brats like you back, and if it has to be through this way... so be it.

he squeezed your cheeks, his grip tightening with every breath you took, moving your eyes so as not to look at him, so as not to be so frightened of him. "you're a damn brat, you know that?" he whispered as he moved his face closer to yours, his suit dissipating bit by bit the closer to you he got. he didn't seem like he had any intention of moving back, he was just keen on looking at you right in the eye and forcing you to look back at him, to acknowledge him and respect him for once.

"i-i know," you stutter out, swallowing the lump in your throat. your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the pad of his thumb brush over your cheek and let out a ragged breath, which felt hot on your face. "go on." miguel commanded you as he let go, pulling away from you.

you hesitated for a moment as miguel stepped back, his wide back now facing yours. a small triangular view of his bronze hued skin, and you noticed... he had an assortment of freckles dotting his back, down to the back of his forearm.

he looked absolutely breathtaking, even clad in the mesh fabric suit, even with the mask sheathing his angular face from the world; he was a sight to behold. you hated yourself so much for admiring him when all he can think of was the stupid stunt you pulled trying to show off.

miguel's head turned around yet again to catch you peeking at the flesh showing from the tears on the suit. he scowled. "i told you to keep talking, not to keep gawking." he reprimanded you as he turned his head back around and shook his head, muttering yet another curse word in spanish.

you cleared your throat, trying to collect your thoughts. "i know, i'm... a brat, and i'm sorry i endangered you all." you spoke in two breaths, hoping to get the heart of your thoughts across, trying to hold back from him the fear you had of him at that very moment. honestly, you were always scared of miguel, always afraid that if you pushed him off the edge... it wouldn't be him who'd fall. he'd hold on to your mistake and pull you down in his place.

that was your biggest fear; the fear of him hurting you, forgetting you, abandoning you and starting from scratch with a new recruit, a better recruit. one who didn't talk smack all the time behind his back, one who followed protocols and didn't steal equipment for joyrides to other earths, one who didn't travel to other earths to screw around--one who followed orders and didn't do things their own way, which would jeopardize not only themselves, but the rest of the elite members of the multiverse's sole defenders.

someone who would listen to him and look at him in the eye when he spoke.

"be honest," he began as lyla fixed up the glitchy parts of his suit as he pinched the bridge of his nose with shut eyes and a hung head, his eyebrows furrowing in the middle as he tried to keep himself composed, "do you think you know what you're doing here?" he asked in a deep, contemplative voice as the suit glitched out even more, despite the ai's best efforts to fix it, the glitching worsened.

"oh, genial." miguel uttered as he sighed again. the villain must've been a real wise guy to know how to mess with such hard to break nanotechnology and mesh fabric that not even miguel himself could pierce or cut through. "ok, uh, not to interrupt your sermon, but you need to take it off. completely." lyla said as she ran a diagnostics protocol on the suit to check what was salvageable on it.

miguel stared at the ai incredulously. "no, keep it on, it's fine." he muttered as he turned to face you, his right pectoral muscle showing just the slightest bit. his suit phasing in and out of functionality as he placed his hands on his waist, staring at you as you abruptly looked away. he raised an eyebrow and eyed you up and down. "why so shy now? you were running your big mouth earlier in combat, why stop now?"

you tried to speak again, but all that came out were unintelligible mumble with the words, "seeing you like this" being repeated over and over and over again. miguel sighed and sauntered over to you and grabbed your cheeks again, this time, more roughly.

"i've had it up to here with your shitty attitude towards me." he said as his eyes narrowed at you, his eyebrows nearly forming into one angry, furry unibrow as he tried to maintain eye contact with you. your eyes wandered down past his neck, to his now semi-exposed collarbone, all the way to his rib area; his right rib's flesh being exposed now as the suit dissipated after continually glitching.

"why are you so insistent upon staring at the absolute wreck my suit is now because of your actions?" he huffed as he angled your face up to look at him, leaning closer and closer towards you as you were now inches away from his face. he snarled for a split second, and you watched as his fangs were bared for that small moment.

"you... need to be taught proper manners." he scolded you as his nose brushed over yours, causing you to shudder; the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as miguel fixated his now glowing, scarlet eyes upon your own. "listen to me, very. carefully." he said as his claws slowly dug into the flesh of your cheeks, grazing you slightly as he brushed the pads of his fingers upon your cheeks and chin.

"you better remember to... look at me when i'm talking to you, understand?" he emphasized as he spoke in a low, low voice, the rest of his suit vanishing as the glitching worsened, his left pectoral muscle now revealing itself, down to his abdominal area, where you noticed his sculptured muscles and scars from the fights. the newly emerged wounds from the battle you botched remained on his skin's surface, noticeable still due to having been fresh a few minutes ago.

he scoffed as he noticed your breathing became labored. he let you go when you mewled at his claws digging deeper into the fat of your cheeks. "i'm... sorry." you uttered as you finally looked up at him. he clicked his tongue as he let you go. "you're lucky i'm too weak to do anything to you right now." he said in a calmer manner as you rubbed over where he grazed upon you.

he turned his head to look at you from over his shoulder and his expression softened the tiniest bit when he watched tears well up in your eyes.

"...i'm sorry, too." he murmured as he finally took off the suit and sat back in his chair, in dark navy shorts.

your eyes wandered down to his toned, tanned calves and thighs, how every bit of him seemed so detailed and sculpted; as if he was exerting force and effort upon every muscle in everything he did. "you have a tendency to run your mouth off and not look before you leap when you're feeling hella cocky, but when you're cornered... you shut up immediately and start staring like a hawk." he pointed out, rather sarcastically.

he stretched his leg a little, wincing at the pain. his grunts were guttural as you noticed the slight limp in how the leg was resting. you got up and looked at his poor leg. "what, staring at me at a distance half-naked isn't enough for you?" he asked, deadpanned.

"i could, um... try easing the pain for you." you offered as you meekly pointed to his leg. he threw his head back and sighed deeply, his chest rising and falling as he did. he looked at you lazily and raised an eyebrow. "is that to make up for all the headaches and migraines you give me?" he asked.

you nodded profusely and he planted his face in his palm, chuckling a little to himself. he looked up at you, gradually, and a small smirk curved upon his lips. he shrugged. "alright, work your magic." he said as he leaned back. "if you fuck me over again, i will kick you out, though." he warned, to which you grinned at.

maybe... you'd keep being a little brat to him, if it meant you could see him this way, and... touch him this way.

a/n: ok so if we do hit 400 likes, i'll make a part 2 + whimpering miggy :>

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @fictarian @pixqlsin @thecoolerdor

[shkika]

Got any Headcanon backstory of how each iterator was named? Like, how did No Significant Harassment get his name? How did Five Pebbles get his name? Etc, etc. I'm curious what you think!

OHH what a fun ask to make up stuff on actually. Sure I have some headcanons. Iterator names are so so fun, because there's a lot you can do with them.

Different local groups could have themes perhaps on their names. Or perhaps their names are phrases or sayings or derive from them. I will go with each colony having their individual meaning for the iterator name.

Sliver of Straw- I've talked about her name extensively here! (x) Please check it out, because I LOVE her name. Basically means needle in a haystack + shortening it to SOS is genius. Just the best.

Looks To The Moon- I don't know if this is the most original take, but I do think her name has a lot of meaning especially if you take into account that she's one of the first or at least an extremely old iterator. I compare it to the landing on the Moon in a way even if it sounds silly. This impossible to reach place is now something well withing reach. Her name is to represent looking at opportunity at the impossible and striving to achieve it. Which can connect to.. well answering the impossible ascension question.

Five Pebbles- This is such a hard one for me. But since the game makes such strong parallels between those two. Making them opposites and such it makes sense to see that in their names. While Looks to the Moon's name is grand and aiming for high achievements. Five Pebbles' name could perhaps be about the smaller mundane things. Finding the solution in a little nook or cranny somewhere close to you. A place where you'd least expect it.

One name is to aim hight and strive for the impossible. The other is about staying low and finding the answer in the small things in life. Which is hilarious if you look at their actual characters. With FP making the bold dangerous decisions and experiments and LTTM vibing like a much more grounded character than him. I love those two.

No Significant Harassment- People find his name really weird which is amusing, because it's really not! To me at least. It can very simply mean "No real harm done". Which I think is probably the intention and it suits his funny guy personality quite a lot. In a way his name could mean peace! A fun hc I discussed with @creeket is that perhaps before NSH was built the colony was divided into four factions/houses that hated each other. The iterator was a reason for them to unite and work on something together which is what the four connected diamonds on his forehead represent.

Seven Red Suns- Okay this is one of the names I struggle the most with. My headcanons about SRS which I've mentioned before is that their colony is very religious and made them as an actual god, treating him as an actual all knowing god much muuch more than the other iterators are treated to the point Seven Red Suns has actual political power (which they really don't want to have). So I think their name is supposed to express how grand and impressive they are. Seven as in complete, perfect. Red is a royal, regal color and of course Suns further cementing their godhood. It makes me think of how the sun is often personified or given a deity to represent it. It can be a cruel leader that dries the land, but also give life and light.

Of course there's many ways to take it in completely different ways. Red stars if I'm not mistaken are the coldest.

Chasing Wind- I also really really like this iterator name. I like to imagine it as either one of two things or both. Chasing after something that is right in front of you yet just barely out of grasp. Like y'know the wind! Or your head is Chasing wind. Having an abundance of thoughts or ideas. Your imagination and creativity running wild and free like the wind!

Unparalleled Innocence- It's so on the nose haha. There is no buts or anything that is a direct opposite to her name in my headcanons. She's a very well meaning innocent person. She was the last iterator to be ever made and lacks a lot more context than the other. She was based of the concept of a child. Which of course children are known for their innocence and unique approach to the world.

[demizorua]

May i learn more about your aro logan rhythm doctor thoughts???? 👀

YES ABSOLUTELY i. ouaagh

so like. for context this is half projection but also i do think it fits at the very least with how i interpret logan. and this is NOT AT ALL NEGATIVE ABOUT HAILEY OR THE TWO OF THEM just like. y'know. vibes.

putting this under a cut because WOW this got very long

basically it comes down to like. i feel like logan really likes hailey as a person, and really likes the Idea of dating her, but also... does not fully feel Comfortable with it? leading to his general avoidance and hesitance. because he's just so entirely Not Sure. like every times he encounters hailey or thinks about the crush thing his thought process is like. something along the lines of

"hailey is very cool and nice and i like her?" > yes!

"hailey seems to like me too and i enjoy spending time with her?" > yes!

"i would be very happy to be closer to hailey and spend more time with her?" > yes!

"i should ask hailey out and start dating her because that's What People Do when they like each other a lot?" > sudden burst of uncertainty and anxiety he can't quite place.

it just very much feels to me like logan likes hailey and being around hailey and spending time with her more than he likes the idea of being in a romantic relationship with her. the expectations and connotations surrounding that are. intimidating! and scary! and so it intimidates him and he ends up backing down.

and i mean. he doesn't know what to do with the feeling? because he does like hailey! he does! he just gets so anxious and nervous every time he thinks about actually speaking to her about dating and he doesn't know why

and then because of course it is knowing me, this is connected to the three turning out songs by AJR which. are VERY aromantic songs to me. and my experience and such. they are like. QUINTESSENTIAL songs to my interpretation of logan.

ESPECIALLY the first one. like. just. obviously this is all headcanon but like. the current state of logan to me is very much the first turning out.

especially the lines like "am I ready for love? / or maybe just a best friend / should there be a difference?" and REALLY the ending with "i'm a little kid, and so are you / don't you go and grow up before i do"

like. i cannot stress enough that logan really likes hailey. he just. it's that aromantic type of love y'know? i'm going in circles here a bit but. it's the Vibes.

turning out pt. ii and turning out pt. iii are less super applicable, especially to current logan, but they're worth mentioning. also this part of turning out pt. iii are like. where i see this headcanon for logan ending up eventually.

and this from turning out pt. iii is very relevant to current logan and his relationship with hailey, i feel

BUT YEAH that's my. logan rhythm doctor aromantic thoughts. he and hailey stay close that's an important part of it to me. and hailey isn't aro but she cares about him and they reach an understanding or conclusion or whatever.

i will admit i've been firing my aromantic beam at a fair amount of the cast, just in different ways for each of them. ada, nicole, insomniac, and cole have all gotten variations on it from me. they're all different kinds of aro, partnering and non partnering. insomniac is a loveless aro to me. etc. i have so many headcanons about this game So Many ouagh.

BUT. THAT'S OFF TOPIC. my point is Thank You for asking and!! i hope this makes sense!!!

[alatismeni-theitsa]

hi, I have a question 'cause I saw it in your tags about the "Persephone lied" post you reblogged.

You mentioned how the tale symbolizes arranged marriages and the separation mother/daughter had to go through.

The more I thought about it the more it makes sense 'cause I’ve heard this is how mothers reacted to marriage in the Ancient World,' cause they would lose their own daughters, with little hope of seeing them again, so that death and marraige seem like almost the same thing from the mother’s perspective. (not to mention Zeus agreed to let Hades to his thing and only "warned" him about Demeter’s reaction. <-I think that can be interpretated as two men agreeing on a marriage without the consent of the mother or the daughter).

On the other hand, I used to think the myth was only relevant to the lives of the worshippers due to Demeter’s grief; it explained the seasons, and it also explained the need for agriculture, which Demeter then taught to mortals to help them survive her periods of sorrow.

Then again I’ve seen ppl theorizing Persephone’s disappearance to be a metaphor for death, (Y'know, how it snatches people away suddenly and leaves grief in its wake) but I think that's a stretch.

Anyways, is there an actual answer or is the myth up to the interpretation when it comes to what it symbolizes/stands for?

thank you in advance! 💕

Hello! Just a small disclaimer: When dealing with a foreign religious tale it doesn't make sense to project our own experiences there since the locals have certain things in place to symbolise specific meanings, and express a certain message. So really, what one "thinks" of the myth is irrelevant. I mean, sure we can all think stuff, don't get me wrong! But I mean, we cannot just base our thoughts on vibes. We should look at the history and tradition of that country first. I'm happy to see people reading examinations of myths more carefully 😄

For example, arranged marriages in Greece were a regular phenomenon 3-4 generations back, and even today that they are not, we still have mournful songs for when her mother grieves losing her daughter in marriage. Our two most famous traditional songs speak of that. One is so bleak that it's downright depressing for a marriage ("Σήμερα μαύρος ουρανός, σήμερα μαύρη μέρα"). @wordsmithic has an extensive video series about the relationship of marriage and death in Greek folklore through the ages. I suggest this for starters (But better see the whole series if you can! It's short!):

Greeks see the tale of Persephone as an explanation for why winter exists, and we also recognise the parallels between Demeter and Persephone's situation with what our mothers and daughters have been going through for thousands of years. The abduction of Persephone is also part of a long-lasting motif of the Greek "Death and the Maiden" stories, so it wouldn't be a stretch to consider it in the broader imagery of "a Death force taking a young woman".

The abduction of Persephone wasn't a story that people related to death and death rituals, so it's probably not a metaphor in the sense you mean, but the story kinda connects death and marriage, again, by being a part of a bigger cultural viewpoint. In Greek tradition since antiquity, young unmarried people (usually teens, not kids) are buried with their (woud be) wedding clothes and sometimes their graves had/have wedding symbols and offerings. Today this is done to give "happiness" to the dead and simulate the marriage rite they never got to have. Also some consider these dead "marry Christ". Before Christianity there was also a motif the dead young women marrying Death (?) but I can't find the info now. I distinctly remember reading many posts about it with sources but I am very sorry I can't procure them now. As soon as I find it, I'll add it here! But you can consider Antigone, how she describes her tomb as a wedding bed, for starters.

Another video of @wordsmithic talks about that motif! (I watched all the videos as you can tell and although I knew most of the stuff, wordsmithic made very good connections there!)

Hopefully, now my initial disclaimer makes sense. There are telling signs of what each myth means, and we take the signs from the culture these myths came from. It's very cool when you can observe the culture's evolution and see hints of that in the present to make more connections.

[lunatriense]

Fluffy Pyrruby camping trip, for @puppet-limbo

"Really? This is your first time?"

Pyrrha saw herself blush in silver eyes wide with shock. "I'm afraid so." She turned her gaze to the little pile of gear in the back of the borrowed truck they'd brought into the woods so that she might avoid Ruby's incredulous stare.

"But… you were so good in the forest! You seemed right at home!"

"Yes, well…" she picked up the packed tent and turned to face Ruby once more. "I can fight in the woods well enough, but that's quite a bit different from camping, much less wilderness survival."

"Well… yeah, okay, but what about the leaves then?" Ruby tilted her head, looking up to Pyrrha as they crossed paths before hefting a little bundle of firewood. "Every time we go out, you always pick up a new leaf."

Pyrrha chuckled and looked back over her shoulder. "I find them quite beautiful. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Sure, they're really pretty, but usually only outdoorsy people do stuff like that."

"Perhaps. Nevertheless, I'm very much a city girl." With a few gestures of her hand to direct her Semblance, Pyrrha quickly assembled the tent.

"How many kinds of leaf can you find in cities?"

Pyrrha smiled and slowly shook her head. "It isn't about how many kinds, it's about the memories they represent. I've collected dozens of maple leaves alone from the Argus city park, each one a little different. Oaks and birches, too. They remind me of good things," she hesitated briefly, her voice falling a little, "and some not so good things that bear remembering even so."

"Oh." Ruby dropped the firewood and knelt down to begin making a little pit. "Kinda like the spent casings I keep, then."

"Very much so, I should think." Her cheer restored, Pyrrha knelt beside Ruby to help.

"That's cool. Do you have a favourite?"

"Several. Some from home, that maple from the Forever Fall, a laurel from my first championship," she glanced to Ruby from the corner of her eye, her smile gaining that playful edge it sometimes did. "A few rose petals…"

"Rose petals?" Ruby turned to face Pyrrha, tilting her head quizzically. "Those aren't exactly leaves though, are they?"

"Not exactly."

"Then why-?" Ruby's eyes widened as she made the connection. "O-oh!" Now it was her turn to blush.

Pyrrha couldn't keep a soft giggle from passing her lips. "Those might just be my very favourite, in fact."

Ruby's blush deepened, and she reflexively pulled her hood up. Her voice came tiny, the way a cartoon mouse's might. "Be… cause of me?"

"Because of you." Pyrrha reached over into Ruby's hood to caress her cheek. "But don't worry; you will always be my very favourite Rose."

Ruby looked about like a rose just now. "Dinner! We, uh… we should have dinner. Y'know, before the sun sets." She shot to her feet like a rocket and quick-stepped to the truck.

Pyrrha giggled again, just watching her momentarily. Gods, but she was just so adorable. She still got so flustered, even months after they'd officially been dating. And it was her that initiated things! An adoring smile spread over Pyrrha's features. To be honest, she was still terribly flattered to know her little Rose had been harbouring a crush on her since initiation.

Ruby returned with the ingredients for a simple stew which she presently began preparing, fidgeting all the while. Pyrrha sighed softly; she'd better give Ruby a little space to calm down before she hurt herself. She stood and stepped over to her girlfriend, cautiously stopping Ruby's knife with her Semblance. "I'll go fetch some water." She leaned down to give Ruby a soft kiss on the cheek before taking a pair of pails from the truck; judging by her little squeak and jump, it was a good thing Pyrrha thought about the knife.

Their chosen campsite wasn't far from a stream, but Pyrrha took her time to admire the woods and tuck a few interesting-looking leaves into her sash. Once she supposed Ruby had likely composed herself, Pyrrha crouched by the stream to fill up the pails and headed back, but as she drew near the campsite a sharp crack and lower crunch froze her blood in her veins.

Grimm? Out here, so far from civilisation? What if Ruby was still flustered and didn't notice in time? With a quick application of her Semblance, Pyrrha crushed the pails together into a pair of makeshift short swords and quickened her pace, head turning this way and that in search of the Grimm. Until she heard Ruby shriek, that is; she set off into a sprint before the sound had finished ringing in her ears.

Please be alright… you have to be alright!!

It took only seconds for Pyrrha to burst from the treeline into the little clearing where they'd chosen to make camp. "RUBY!!" Pyrrha cried urgently, halfway to the truck gate where her lover had been working before she registered what she was seeing. Ruby wasn't there, but rather past the truck at the far edge of the clearing staring at Pyrrha with wide eyes. Just past her, and also staring, were a mother deer — or elk? Pyrrha never could tell — and her young fawn, the latter frozen in mid-bite with a carrot hanging from its mouth.

"Pyrrha? Uhh… are you… is everything okay??"

Ruby's awkward but unfrightened tone, paired with the looks she was getting from all three of her watchers, set Pyrrha's face afire.

"I…yes, I'm fine…" she lied, her heart thundering in her ears and hands shaking with adrenaline sans outlet. "Are you alright?"

"Yyyyyeah… I was just feeding my new friend here." Ruby briefly glanced to the deer, then back to Pyrrha. "Are you sure? I don't remember you having those." Her eyes flicked to the pails-turned-swords.

"I thought…" Pyrrha swallowed the lump in her throat and took a deep breath to try and calm herself. "I heard Grimm in the forest, and then you screamed and I…" She felt wetness building in her eyes. "I thought…" She dropped her swords and darted over to Ruby — the deer leapt back warily — scooping her up in a tight embrace to which Ruby responded with a surprised squeak. "I thought I'd lost you…" Pyrrha's voice quavered and she buried her face in the crook of Ruby's neck.

Ruby squirmed momentarily, then stilled and hugged Pyrrha back. When her much-bigger girlfriend didn't relax her hold, she tapped Pyrrha's shoulder several times in rapid succession and croaked out, "Can't breathe!"

Pyrrha gave a little start and set Ruby down. "I'm sorry!"

Ruby gasped for breath for a few seconds, leaning forward and bracing herself on her knees as she did so. She shook her head emphatically. "Sorry… didn't mean… to scare you." She took a long, even deeper breath and straightened. "Don't worry… there's no Grimm here. That was just these guys." She swept her arm back to the deer — rather, where they'd been; there was no sign of them now.

Pyrrha's face remained crimson, but she didn't care. Ruby was safe, that's all that mattered.

Ruby looked back to where she'd been feeding the deer, then to the ruined pails, then back to Pyrrha. "You really are a city girl."

A relieved yet strained laugh burst from Pyrrha's throat and she nodded vehemently. "I told you."

"Well that's okay." Ruby smiled up to her, half-stepping closer and rising up on her tiptoes to give her a quick kiss. "Why don't we go get the water together? I think there's an old thermos behind the seat."

Her heart rate finally not too far off normal, Pyrrha smiled and nodded. "Yes, please."

Ruby's smile grew just a touch as she returned the nod, then hopped over to the truck's cabin and dug around momentarily, coming up with a victorious cheer and holding aloft a banged-up thermos. Stepping back over, she took Pyrrha's hand with interlocked fingers and the two of them set off into the trees amid deep shadows cast by the now-fiery sunlight.

[gardenoblues]

Fic Tag Game

tagged by @iamfandomcrazy @therulerofallpotatos @dark-visitors sorry it took time to reply, y'know uni stuff and shit <33

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? -8 2. What's your Ao3 word count? -46,208

3. What fandoms do you write for? -Wednesday, ENHYPEN (and Raise Tanin ga ii tho i doubt id write for this again) 4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? gee this is embarrassing i really dont have much 1. BloodyLocks (311) 2.Hyde The Past (74) 3. The Pastor's Son (50) 4. you never forget your first (63) 5. Who doesn't love The Smiths? (39)

In Wednesday? -its the same fics above 5. Do you respond to comments? -I try to reply to all as much as possible but if they aren't positive comments i just erase them lol. But I do appreciate the comments (not like I have a lot but nonetheless they make my day) 6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? -It's not written yet, still in the drafts and I won't spoil >< but to answer that question, I don't think I have written angst, I'm still figuring my way as a writer and if I will to write angst I want it to hurt but with purpose, and I'm not sure how to do that yet. 7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? -all my fics aren't done yet. except for you never forget your first. that's pretty happy, well the Wyler version of happy.

8. Do you get hate on fics? -So far so good. But I do think that I hold back my ideas because I'm still so scared in writing them. Maybe someday when I get bolder I'd get them. Can't wait actually lol. 9. Do you write smut? What kind? -Yes. But it's just light smut. I just begun writing so I'm still exploring myself in that area.

10. Do you write cross-overs? -No, but it sounds interesting. Maybe when I get the idea. 11. Have you ever had a fic translated? -Not that I know of. Prob not. 12. Have you ever cowritten a fic before? -Nope. But I would love to if chance comes! 13. What WIP you would like to finish, but doubt you ever will? -My Reaper and Hyde The Past I have a whole plan laid for these 2. Both drained me until now, but I don't think I'd want to die while they're still unfinished. I will finish them as I promised myself no matter how long that takes. 14. What's your all-time favorite ship? -Wyler! It's more likely that I won't find another ship that tops them. (Just last night I wrote like 2 story of drafts abt them lol they're my favorite brainrot)

15. What are your writing strengths? -Narrating and dialogue. Having tons of ideas for a fic.

16. What are your writing weaknesses? -Thinking for the fic in the long run, and missing out some of the details that can make the fic more, not sure how but just more, and this factor makes me write slower. As well as being too self-conscious and ending up complying to the safest choice. Oh and fight scenes, they just seem like fairies fist-fighting when I read them lol makes me laugh. 17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? - I've thought so much about Wyler in Filipino. Somehow they can fit, but I don't think I have the determination for that yet. This made me remember @ablatheringblatherskite idea for Filipino/cultural mythological creatures for some reason, I want to write a fic about that someday as I know a lot about Filipino folklores.

18. First fandom you wrote for? -WYLER. It's BloodyLocks I had my ao3 acc made months before just so I can comment to the fics I liked with ease. But when Wednesday came out, I suddenly became a fic writer lol. Thanks to their dynamic, I have one more hobby that drives me slowly to insanity. 19. Favorite fic you've ever written? -Hmm, I thought of Hyde The Past right away, (I have a lot, I mean A LOT, that I have written for this fic, but its hard to connect them now) it pushes me to the edge of burnout. At the moment The Pastor's Son is the easiest to write and I'm personally liking where it's going.

20. What fic would you want to rewrite one day? -Hyde The Past If I can rewind time, I would write it so much better and wouldn't rush. You can say that when I wrote that fic I was in my lowest, and it hurts my eyes and brain when I try to read it as I think of what should happen next. It's probably one of the reasons why it's taking me so long to finish it.

I'm tagging @tastethesetears @cosmic-lullaby @nouklea @lovepoison9 @writerrose1998 @chinita-inzunza @ablatheringblatherskite @anotherbluesunday @chaoticstupiddm i don't know who was been tagged and if you have u can just ignore this <33

[anonymous-bastard]

ooooooo opinion on fruit trees that have free fruit in urban areas?

@underworlds-favourite

So this is a topic I don't really know a lot about so I kind of needed to extrapolate from what I do know. So I talk about the combination urban + green first.

That being said before you guys read my wall of text:

Depends on the tree and the area in question, I'd say.

In general I am supportive of the idea of growing more food and greenery in general in urban areas.

Rooftop gardens, urban gardening efforts, greenery on the side of building, I WANT IT ALL.

Urban gardening brings free food into communities and gardening is just straight up good for you. Time spent outside and caring for plants is good for your mental health.

Unsealing areas (removing pavement etc) allows for drainage of rainwater and often goes hand-i-hand with more greenery. (Keyword: sponge city)

IF DONE RIGHT, plants can also have a significant cooling effect, and give more shadow. Which is important in times of climate change.

And if you ever compare the look of a street with vs without trees - enormous difference. Just visually.

Now onto free fruit trees specifically:

Native trees are always better. Just in general, for everything. Wildlife, insects, they are all little racists that only like locals stuff /j. But seriously, local wildlife is adapted to local plants. If you are going for something better able to weather climate change, go for something from warmer regions from the same continent. It does make a difference!

Location is key here.

1: I'm not sure how much pollution, car exhaust, etc actually effect quality/ eatability of the product, someone who knows more about this than I do tell me.

2: Height is (possibly) another thing - if it is in a public place, where people are supposed to walk by and take food (as opposed to clearly connected to an apartment complex/ a set of apartment complexes), you really don't want for people to need to get a ladder. Berry bushes, raised garden beds with vegetables, etc are probably the better choice in this case, or just trees that grow fruit low. Just y'know. Keep things at people height.

3: Again especially for public places: (some) fruit trees are pretty "dirty". A lof of drooped fruit before it's ripe, or if it doesn't get harvested. And that turns gross and attracts wasps etc, and in a public place no one feels responsible for clean-up. But whether this os truly a problem is location dependent.

The last point can be mitigated by getting volunteers that take care of the project. A necessity in general in many cases - fruit trees are pretty easy once planted, but many vegetables you have to plant every year, weed, water, etc. But I feel with fruit trees especially one of the advantages is they don't need a lot of work and you can just put them there, so yeah.

In conclusion: If you want to start free food projects, whether as a grassroot effort from a local or if you are working for the municipality: look at your location. Think it through what kind of food would work best. Is the maintenance effort important, how much space do you have, what grows well under the local conditions, etc. And then do it! And despite all I've said don't let fear stop you. No plan survives first contact with the enemy, and you can adjust yours. It doesn't need to be perfect it just needs to work.

Also:

Fuck every politician and city planner ever that actively destroyed grassroot efforts for urban gardening and free food. I have nothing but contempt for you.

I would love to hear other peoples thoughts or experiences on the topic!

[raphaelapproves]

Today, focus was a precious commodity and I ended up behind at work so did not get the chance to post the conversation as promised.

But now, here we are, the "conversation"--and I do use that term loosely--that I had with an Astarion girlie.

Allow me to set the scene.

This happened on a video where a streamer was, I assume, HORRIFIED to find that if she just self-insert played the game with answers she would give--SHOCK!--Gale was the companion who liked her the most. I can't imagine why.

Anyway, the comments section was the predictable Gale-bashing. Some in good fun. Most of it not. And I'm me, so I just couldn't help myself, because I see too much of my younger self [ who still tried to engage with people and connect but didn't know how ] in Gale, so I responded to a couple of comments. This was the one that prompted this little meeting of the... well, one mind and then whatever the other person was operating with. Must have been a different Operating System, because it sure didn't make sense to me.

It is below the cut, as are my thoughts because it turned into a long post as, apparently, I had many thoughts.

Astarion Girlie [ henceforth AG ]: THEN HE CAN GO SUCK OFF LETTO II ON ARRAKIS CUZ I AM NOT HERE FOR GALE'S SEXIST A$$ 😤

Me: First: how is Gale sexist? Second: and yet you're okay with Astarion [ NOTE: the username had something to do with what Astarion could do for them, so I made an educated guess ] who is canonically racist, knowingly lured people to their deaths, and was fine with condemning the world for himself???

AG: are you serious??? 🤣 Gale mansplains EVERYTHING to the women around him including magic to other magic-user, uses coercion as a flirting tactic, & slvt-shames Tav if you're romancing someone else.

Me: Wow. There is so much wrong with that. 1) Tell me you don't have an autistic friend without telling me. 2) He explains to EVERYONE not just women. 3) Genuinely? What coercion? 4) He just tells you -- He isn't for an open relationship [ says he wishes you had asked him first which is y'know healthy? ] and asks you to choose, then says he wishes you well if you don't choose him.

AG: have you considered touching grass?

Me: This is such an intelligent rebuttal. Brava! So insightful and useful to a debate. Have you considered maybe listening to others without belitting them because you can't have a friendly discussion?

AG: 1) all of my friends are auDHD and so am i. you're an ableist joke. 😘 2) now you're gale-splaining his sexism 😂 3) i'm not interested in continuing with someone as clearly unwell as you are, bye!

Me: I AM autistic, friend. 2) It's not sexism if he's literally explaining his special interest to EVERYONE regardless of sex. 3) Again, quite mature. Thank you. 👏👏👏

I am just. How??? can anyone be so ??? I do not even have a word for it. It baffles me.

Astarion has canonically done terrible things, would canonically do many even more terrible if not swayed from it, and yet Gale??? is the one with whom they have a problem??? And they can't even logic their own argument???

As someone who is autistic and has been a victim of continued mental and emotional abuse from someone who always wanted to play the victim card and as someone who was always given the excuse "well they're not well and you know it, so you just have to deal with it and don't argue" when they're going out of their way to make your life hell and trying to frame you as their own personal villain, up to and including gaslighting you to the point of nearly two decades of depression, making you feel like you were broken and the worst human being in the world, and having you contemplating things you shouldn't, and them lying to others about things that happened or things that were said to get you in trouble, I get very, very tired of the mentality I see so much around the crazed Astarion Girlies of excusing everything he has ever done and being unable to even acknowledge a single flaw and attacking anyone who does say anything.

I have and continue to live that, have been and continue to be on the other side of it having to suffer because someone else wasn't held accountable, and I am Tired. [ At least now, thanks to my best friend in the entire world, I can see it for what it is and I'm in at least a better place now mentally, 98% of the time. ]

[ NOTE: This is NOT against the Astarion writers I have seen on here. Please do not misunderstand. The Astarion writers I follow on here are the only reason I can still even marginally like the character at this point. He is fascinating. He is multi-faceted. It's one of the things I love to see explored by those who I follow. It is always interesting to see people write complex and even morally difficult characters because that, too, is a form of understanding humanity. It's one of the things I love exploring with my anti-heroes and villains. In Baldur's Gate, that would include characters like Raphael, Gortash, Dirge, etc. So please know I am not hating on any Astarion writers! Everyone I follow is amazing! ]

But when you bring up those character flaws and morally difficult things that does make the character so complex and multi-faceted, these are the responses you get:

Astarion is a victim!

Yes, that is true. But Gortash who, let's be honest, at least doesn't fully know what he's doing is wrong [ you pass the insight checks and what not/narration tells you/the VA tells you that he thinks he's doing the right thing for himself and for the city, etc. and with the way he was raised, what example did he have to the contrary but I've already gone on that rant HERE ] is to the smallest degree even less culpable in my mind than Astarion, and he doesn't get a pass the way Astarion does? And he certainly shouldn't. He isn't absolved. He is doing terrible things whether he can fully rationalize it or not with his understanding of life.

Astarion though, acknowledges on multiple occasions, gives excuses, justifies his actions at every turn while still knowing that what he's doing and planning to do is wrong. And it's heavily implied that he really wasn't all that great of a person BEFORE Cazador either [ that is not to say that he deserved what happened either, just to clarify ]. But the point is Astarion did, at one point, having come from what seems an affluent family, have a knowledge of right and wrong and still made decisions that he made, even before Cazador and after once he was free.

Cazador made him do those things! Yes, he did, but that excuse stopped the moment Cazador's control was no longer an issue. He had free will and a knowledge of right and wrong, and he made the decisions he made.

But it was a habit by then! It was what he learned to survive!

And that coupled with the knowledge of right and wrong goes only so far as the moment you choose to knowingly make your trauma someone else's. Cazador wasn't going to force him to do the Ascension ritual and pay 7,000 souls for his own betterment. "Because after 200 years of SHIT, PURE SHIT, I think I deserve better." A paraphrase, but I think I caught the most important parts. He knew it was wrong, he acknowledges it and immediately tries to justify himself, and is still quite willing to do it. Literally, if he kills you by draining your blood, he acts like nothing ever happened and then tries to sweep it under the rug with Tav if they continue to be upset about it by telling them there's no reason to be.

And yet, we have a problem with Gale, who can be or come across as condescending at times, but I think you can hardly call a man sexist who made his girlfriend his entire personality--since she was the goddess of his SPECIAL INTEREST--and continues to put her word above even his own life, prioritize her forgiveness over his continued existence and who takes such great interest in literally everything Lae'zel has to say about the Astral Plane and her people. We have a problem with a man who is honest about his comfort zone? Who loves your PC even if you become a mindflayer? Who only takes issue with you when you do something morally bad? Who literally gives you approval points for anything even remotely resembling a good choice? Who feels like he doesn't even deserve a place in the world and would gladly give himself up for any one of his companions?

He's always harassing me for items!!!! AND HE GOT MAD WHEN I WOULDN'T GIVE THEM TO HIM!!!

The count is THREE and you can give the man the most trash items you have and he still thanks you and tells you that he will repay your kindness because he knows what such sacrifice means. He is thanking you--just as he gets mad at you if you don't--because he literally has a ticking bomb in his chest that would kill not only HIM if it de-stabilized and exploded, but also anyone within the vicinity.

Well he betrayed Mystra!!!

He tried to get on equal footing with someone he loved, to share in something he loved with the person who embodied it. Was he overly ambitious? Absolutely. [ And honestly, tell me it's not Gifted Kid Syndrome -coded to assume that he could do this impossible thing. ] Did it cost him? Yes. And then Mystra, who could have fixed it and didn't cast him off. And he still prayed to her. And took all of the blame on himself, despite the fact that Mystra shares more than a little responsibility for what transpired. [ I.E. all of the Origin PCs have been victims in this game, in some way or another, and some if not all of them to power imbalances in relationships. Why does anyone think Gale is the one exception? ]

HE'S MANSPLAINING TO ME!!!

He is literally telling you all about his special interest and probably assuming that you don't know much about it, or at least not as much as him, because he was literally a Chosen of Mystra and an Archmage. Again, can he be condescending and huffy at times? Yes. He absolutely can. Call it a character flaw. Everyone has them, but you know what? His doesn't condemn anyone to death, so why are we up at arms?

HE DOESN'T WANT ME TO SEE OTHER PEOPLE!!!

And that is his prerogative and he's straightforward and honest with you about it. He tells you--if you already started flirting with or seeing someone--that he wishes you had the courtesy to tell him first [ which, IS IN FACT the healthy way to go about a relationship of that nature, just as shown with Halsin insisting you ask your partner first ]--but if you choose the other person, he wishes you both well, usually gives some compliment to the other person, and then continues to treat you well as long as you weren't rude and demeaning to him during or after the fact.

So why???? Is so much of the fanbase SO AGGRESSIVELY against Gale? But Astarion is uwu Babygirl and can do no wrong? What about defending Gale makes me "so unwell", but how DARE anyone rightfully criticize even the smallest thing about Astarion because [ insert extensive list of reasons why none of that should matter ].

That he is a victim, that he's pretty, that his VA has a great voice and personality, et cetera, does not excuse that Astarion has knowingly done terrible things both against and within his will and will do so again without hesitation if he helps him, particularly if your Durge or Tav doesn't try or manage to sway him.

Make this make sense to me, because I certainly cannot seem to make it do so.

I've said it before with that Gortash post I linked above and I said it on a similar post for Zevlor and somewhere that I was talking about Minthara and Nere, but the double standards within a loud portion of this fanbase--even within the game itself and among the people who worked on it--is not one of its better qualities.

[kaija-rayne-author]

When I finally manage to get BG3, I think Astarion is probably going to be the big one for me, broken sex neg chaotic elf vampire? He could be custom crafted for my likes. Angst and snark? 😍 I really do love elves. And vampires, which if you've read my books you probably already know that about me. Oh and the angstier the romance the better as long as I eventually get my HEA/HFN.

More blathering 😅 below the cut.

I'm looking forward to playing it for more than the characters. I played and adored the first two, though I honestly preferred Champions of Norath for mechanics. I've been role playing in video games and ttrpg for most of my life. Role playing as a 'normal' person ever since I figured out that I was definitely not the same as neurotypical people. Reasonably sure many autistic/ADHD folks share the experience. I'm looking forward to seeing what they did with the city and story.

Buuuut, I also thought I'd love Fenris from DA2 and I really ended up almost loathing him.

I've got ptsd, it's some of the most ridiculous stereotypical rep I've seen, I don't even drink! Many people with ptsd don't! And of course they haaaad to go with the alcoholic shut in when he's not murdering people thing. Ugh! Fenris is also so freaking mean. I didn't romance him at all because of it, but if you can't see a character's growth without romancing them, it's not very good characterization. He's especially vicious to Merrill, who is just so sweet and doesn't deserve to be talked to like that. Honestly, no one does. Wonderful growly voice which would do things to me if the character weren't so objectively awful, but a voice, even to a voice slut like me, isn't enough.) Yes, stereotypes do exist for a reason, but it's also why stereotypical rep is bad!

So I dunno, maybe I'll be right and Astarion will work for me. I also love the meaning of his name. 'Little star' from the Greek. It's been on my list as a future character name for years.

But Karlach might work depending on her personality. Gale is just pathetic enough from what I've seen to make me like him.

I dunno who it'll be tbh. I'm polyam too, so being able to be polyam in that game is a huge attraction for me. (Unfortunately, apparently you can't do that with Astarion and Karlach.)

Honestly, I don't get why everyone is so excited about having sex with Halsin in bear form. Have you seen bear penis? Thin, not very short for most species, and they have a bone in them. A bacula is what penis bones are called and humanoids notably do not have them anymore. The largest bear we know of currently is the badly endangered polar bear, and their baculas are roughly 7 inches long. That doesn't exactly scream it's gonna feel great, y'know? At least, 😅, not to me. All y'all do you. I'm not trying to kink shame.

It's just not a factor of attraction for me. TBH, I haven't seen much about Halsin at all. Which is kinda surprising given the fuss about 'sex in bear form' thing.

And yes, I'm very well aware how odd it may be for an aro/ace person to enjoy romance novels and games so much. It makes sense to me (sometimes) in a game or on page. It doesn't make sense in real life for me. I'm a sex positive ace, I can enjoy it with the right emotional or intellectual (ideally both) connections.

I'm also autochorisexual, so it makes sense that way too. I'm far more likely to fall for a fictional character than a living person.

Ugh. I wish I didn't have to wait for this game. But my birthday is coming up and I'm hopeful someone will get it for me. If not, I'll have to keep wishing. I'm still looking for a job, but it’s really not going well very quickly at all.

Shrugs. Everyone seems to act like aro/aces all hate romance and sex but that's definitely not been my experience. Some of us are sex neg, I have good friends who are, but I've talked to far more sex neutral or sex positive aces.

I really wish people valued creativity enough to pay for it more frequently. Just a living wage. That's legit all most creatives want. Enough money to pay the bills every month.

[theneighborhoodwatch]

The Welcome Home update was absolutely fantastic and showed so many sides to the silly puppets we all love and enjoy! Although I have to admit some of the audios with Wally did surprise me a bit, especially the ones where he was off to the side and out of the spotlight (except for the interview of course). I feel like this choice was definitely on purpose to make us question what his role truly was in the show. Perhaps he wasn’t in the spotlight as much as we first thought? Maybe him solely becoming the focus for such a big audience instead of the cast altogether recently would cause such distress?

Especially after decades of who knows what that’s been happening in the Neighborhood. He’s an artist with just a bucket of paint, a blank canvas, and everyone is watching over his shoulder on what he’ll do next. Wallys not even not sure if were there let alone listening, He’s just alone with nobody to guide him, no silly adventure to go on with friends, let alone share a laugh with. He was a stand in, a host to the audience that allowed us to participate in the wacky adventures that went on in Welcome Home. But without his friends and audience what is he now?…

Anyways! This is just my speculation, I really do wonder what’s going on behind the scenes though with this funny little guy. (Also I realized the way Wally speaks reminds me a lot of the dialogue/interactions from Silent Hill 2. It’s kinda awkward and weird but looking back still charming).

Cheers!

i don't want to totally rule out anything in this ask as a possibility, given how early we still are - i think the idea that wally being the closest thing the show had to a protagonist was something that emerged later in its run and that such a change was overwhelming for him, doubly so in the present day with [vague gesture] everything else he's got going on, is a Very compelling one, for one thing. but this ask does remind me: i'm kind of surprised by how many people assume that wally is like, actually physically alone right now? (save for home, anyways.)

like, wally mentions talking to the other neighbors pretty regularly in his guestbook drawings, and the bug videos having a higher audio quality than anything else on the site so far seems to indicate that they take place "outside" of the show, and presumably things have been taking place outside of the show for years - y'know, on account of there no longer being a show. of course, wally could be lying about still being in contact with the others, but i don't really see anything that he would gain from doing so. although, being surrounded by the same people you practically grew up with while also dealing with something that you have no idea how to articulate to them and Also possibly seeing those people as less "real"* than you and your house and the extradimensional beings you keep trying to establish a two-way connection with in order to regain your sense of purpose - that could easily be considered a form of loneliness on par with physical solitude.

actually, halfway through writing that paragraph, i realized something: the bug videos have a higher audio quality, but the secret records (the ones that all the drawings that aren't in the guestbook link to) don't. you'd think if anything takes place outside the show, it would be those - but maybe since wally seems so dedicated to his original image from the show, his voice reflects that in terms of quality? maybe that's the reason for the distortion that crops up sometimes? but the distortion also appears in publicly available audio.... much to think about.

*of course it goes without saying that if this is indeed the case, then wally will probably be in for a Very rude awakening when whatever's happening here begins affecting the other neighbors - i say "when" and not "if" because of clown's own description of the project. or perhaps he's trying to prevent that from happening? no way to unlearn something like that, after all. we'll have to wait and see.