#IS A GODDAMN MASTERPIECE
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I NEED EVERYONE TO READ THIS FIC RIGHT FUCKING NOW IM NOT PLAYING 🔫 (´⊙ω⊙`)
Warriors: Choi San x Reader
A/N: ohh boyyy after the kpop fanfic drought im back and it's with warriors au choi san
Summary: San and Reader are mages, which means they are made to serve. They are lowborn, destined to obey humans - the nobles and the highborn - with their every breaths. What if they don't want that?
tw: 18+, smut (p in v, fingering, cockwarming sort of), swearing, violence, death, blood, minimally gory at one point, war, child soldiers (14 yo), society is a shit place to be if you're a mage, tons of worldbuilding, assassins, freaking bath sex, hint at sa at one point from some dude we hate, san is kind of a brat tamer, seonghwa cameo but sad, idk if you can tell but i suck at summaries, mention of a harem, mention of slavery
wc: 4.8k
As a child, you watched from afar, waiting for things you could not grasp.
They told you that you were made to serve. They recounted age-old tales, about gods that crafted humans in their divine hands, moulding the mages afterwards to be commanded by their beloved creations. They filled your mind with legends of faithful individuals of your kind who proved their worth with obedience until you wished to be like your forebears.
Back when you were but an infant, you believed it. You knew the two powers that were bestowed upon you by the gods, varying in every mage, were gifts made solely to assist the highborns. In your naivety, you thought the rosy flame cupped in your small, childish palms would be used to warm the nobles in the icy winter, and that you would fulfil your purpose through that, through being of use to them. They had no shame as they informed you you were just a tool forged for following their orders, and you were convinced it was all true - until you met San.
Although you were the one with the ability to summon an inferno, he was always the one with a burning fire in his eyes. Like all mages, he’d been taken from his parents the moment he didn’t need his mother’s milk - he was given as a peace offering from the Hwangso warlord for his control of water: helpful for the upkeep of the crops.
This occurred in the small period of time in which Hwangso, the neighbouring province, was attempting to forge alliances with your province, Neugdae. Soon after, your warlord breached their territory, claiming it as his - you often wondered if the news filtering back from the front lines of a new settlement captured ever affected San.
You met him when he was an eight year old filled with bottled fury too old for his years, and you were a quiet, invisible seven year old. At those tender ages, neither of you had developed your second ability yet, nor had you gotten a taste of the power at your fingertips, but San still held his head high; you remember marvelling at the way he’d make a point of meeting every single noble’s gaze and holding it. He was just a scrawny, sun browned kid back then - nothing like the elegant lethality of the man that he is now.
Every day until you turned fourteen, you toiled beside him. The work was cruel, your supervisors crueller; the sun would beat down on your back as you laboured in the fields, side by side with San as barely a quarter of the way across the settlement, the nobles sheltered beneath their silky parasols, boasting their pale, porcelain skin. Back then, San never spoke of the injustice of it all out loud, but something about the look in his eyes when he saw them swanning past stirred something inside you. He made you realise that you were not the soulless, mindless puppet that you’d been told you were, but a person.
It wasn’t simply the rage inside him that drew you to him, though. It was the way he remained sweet, kind, despite it all, making sure to send licks of cool mist down your neck when your supervisors weren’t looking, nicking extra crumbs of food for you and remaining beside you, a beacon of light that anchored you to sanity even in the dark.
Even when, you at fourteen, him fifteen, were sent out into battle.
There were always skirmishes between neighbouring warlords: a constant push and pull for more land, more resources, more power. They would attack on a whim - mages were expendable, nothing more than canon fodder; behind each squadron was a noble who would hang back behind the lines, commanding, unbothered by the bloodshed because it was the blood of mere tools.
By then, both you and San had developed your second abilities. San’s was the ability to manipulate shadows, turning them into almost solid shapes that could physically hinder attacks by forming daggers or clutching hands, or could temporarily block the world out in a shroud of rolling black fog. Yours was the art of shapeshifting; you let the outline of your body waver between forms, changing into powerful, deadly creatures whose substance was inhabited by the soul of a wavering teenager.
You’d known that you’d be forced to fight since you were young, but you never could have imagined the brutality of war.
It was there, in the midst of the battlefield, that any lingering innocence was burned from your soul. You learned that San’s water did not just bring life, but could also fill up someone’s lungs until they drowned upon dry ground, that your fire was not just a source of warmth or light, but could also combust a man’s heart within his chest, that the animals you were teaching yourself to shapeshift into could maul and break bones.
Many nights, you would fall asleep, curled against San, your face buried in his side with his arm wrapped around you, the taste of blood still in your mouth from where you’d torn your enemies’ throat out with the vicious canines of a tiger or the needle sharp fangs of a lynx. You would leave the front lines soaked with crimson, the essence of other people in your hair, smeared on your face, caked and drying under your nails.
It terrified you, how easily you could slice their flesh open with your claws. Armour was not wasted on mages, only generals, so just like you, all they wore were roughly woven tunics tied at the waist and trousers - you met no resistance when you killed your own kind, silent apologies on your lips.
Within the squadrons were also humans that had fallen from grace - criminals who still felt entitled enough by their birthright to think they could have a fourteen year old mage’s body; San protected you until you could protect yourself. In the first few weeks, when the punches he threw were too weak to deter them, he would let them beat him, giving you time to escape before returning to you, limping, lip split and nose bloody but the fire in his eyes never faltering.
On those nights, tears of frustration would leak from the corners of your eyes as you cleaned him up. He could so easily stop them if he used his abilities, but by then doing that without being instructed to do so by a highborn would lead to a flogging or a beating - fairytales no longer worked on you at that age, so your commanders and generals utilised fear mongering instead. You remember the hate and helplessness burning inside you when you looked at them: if all the mages rebelled at once, the nobles would have no chance, but everyone was too scared. Using your abilities on humans only led to execution.
You remember Seonghwa: he was a mage a few years older who cared for you and San as if you were his blood. He got too strong - you can’t recall his second ability but his first meant he could push a man over the brink of insanity, until he frothed at the mouth and his brain boiled within his skull. When you first witnessed the depth of his power, you were originally struck by the pain in Seonghwa’s eyes, and then by the fear in your commander’s.
The next day, Seonghwa was gone.
Often, you wonder if he fought back, or if he just let them kill him.
After, you made San promise that he wouldn’t show them if his powers developed further. He made you promise the same, and when you fought beside him, he was a constant reminder to reign yourself in, to survive. You were more careful with your powers from then on.
Some nights, though, when the frost ridden night air cut right through the ragged material of your blanket, you huddled next to San and lit a small fire in your hands. He’d tell you to stop, and you’d point out that he was shivering; he’d reply that he’d rather that than get you caught, and you would ignore him, not missing the way you tucked himself closer to the flame.
You didn’t tell him, but sometimes you would shift into a small animal, like a raccoon, and steal food for him in the dead of night. You didn’t answer when he asked you where you got it from, just shrugging and thrusting the rolls of bread and strips of dried meat into his hands, telling him he should eat.
When you were sixteen, San discovered he could animate his shadows. He could mould them like clay in his hands, breathing purpose into them - they would disintegrate within about a week or so, their outlines fading until they dissolved into nothing. San shaped a little dragon for you, the length of your forearm and the width of one of your thumbs; he came to you with it cupped in his hands, awe limning his face as the two of you watched it wriggle through the air between you and coil itself around your wrist.
You have many memories of those times, but one remains crystal clear, even to this day. A year onwards from San’s dragon, you found yourself hemmed in by enemy forces, your body tired from the fight - victory was so close for your side, and because of it, the Hwangso fought even harder, like cornered animals. If you broke through them, you would have been able to easily end their commander, but they had you, six to one. Hands closed around your throat, choking, and as the consciousness bled from you, you heard San’s cry, smelt the fear in the air as he tore through them to get to you: that in itself would have been insignificant - you had saved each other countless times through the years - but he had disobeyed a direct command.
He’d been told to kill the commander. He’d had a clear shot, and even still, he’d ignored orders, choosing to save you instead.
Both of you were beaten for it, and even as you heard the sound of San’s ribs cracking, he held your eyes, silently telling you that he’d do it over and over again, if only to keep you with him.
You think that was the moment when the two of you truly got a taste for rebellion. It was the point in the long, winding thread of your life that made you realise that whatever they told you, you would disregard it if it were for San. Their words no longer had as much power over you, because you knew your bond with him was infinitely stronger than any fear they attempted to instil within you.
Soon after that incident, your commander retired, and he was replaced by a man who was more of a fool than him. You began to lose land to Hwangso’s troops, far enough that the settlement where you grew up in was ravaged, razed to the ground. Your commander informed you that you’d evacuate the highborns, leaving the child mages and the servants behind because they would only slow you down - that was the moment you decided to stop listening to him.
The last mage rebellion had been decades ago - they were not ready. It was pathetic how easy it was to overthrow them; together with the rest of the troops and the mages from the settlement, you rebuilt the town and fortified it. San treated his soldiers with respect, with loyalty, and they loved him for it, for the way he would march into battle with them instead of cowering at the rear, for the way he could often be seen in the newly restored fields, watering the crops, for the way he recognised them for who they were.
To this day, you’re in awe of it. Never in your whole life have you come close to anything but fear for a leader, and yet you see it clear in their eyes that they love San, and that he loves them. He is everything that the highborns fear - a powerful, confident mage, wreathed in righteous shadows, fiercely intelligent, a master of strategy.
One of his first moves was to ally himself with the Hwangso warlord, the very man who had given him as a gift to your province. Deep in the highborn’s eyes was the presumption that he could break San and make him yield, followed a month later by pure terror when you held a knife to his neck, hissing to never speak of San like that again. The two of you brought his head in a sack to Hwangso and claimed your rule over the province.
That didn’t mean it was easy, though. There were the nights when San would tremble in your arms, baring his fears to you, his doubts - that it was getting too much too fast: that maybe he really was just made to follow orders. You scoffed at that - you’d seen him grow up, watched his shoulders broaden and his figure fill out with muscle, you’d seen the fire in his eyes blazing with passion; you knew he’d always be more than enough.
You’re not sure when the love blossomed between the two of you. Maybe it was always there, first shown as fierce protectiveness, later as searing kisses where no one could see, of fingers laced with yours in the dark of night. He married you shortly after he began to be recognised as an actual warlord, not a rogue mage; it was a quiet ceremony, but the celebrations of your people were far from that - rumours of the Neugdae province’s mage warlord and his wife rippled like wildfire through the regions, stirring fear and hope alike.
Some wonder why San does not take more wives - he has control over the Baem province as well Neugdae and Hwangso now, and any warlord with that much power would take on a harem without blinking. Not San, though - he’s different from them, he is a mage, a lowborn, his bronzed skin a sign to them of his childhood in the fields, and they find he is an enigma, as is his mystery shrouded right hand man.
But not to you - you understand him as if you share a soul.
On the surface, you are his only wife, aloof and coldly beautiful. In the shadows, you are his sword, his hand. There are myths of you, of the fire wielding ghost that robes itself in a black cowl and changes its skin into a man’s worst nightmare; stories of how you will twist your victim’s thoughts around until he finds the tip of a blade poking out of his chest, speared right through his back. It’s how you prefer to operate - they fear the unknown, and you are the unknown.
The fabric of the bag held in your fingers is soaked with blood. Within it is the head of the Yong province’s advisor. He was an awful man who deserved what you gave him - in a locked room at the back of his house, you found several young mages, half starved and chained by wrist and ankle to each other and a hook set in the wall. Bile bites at the back of your throat at the thought: you’re lucky you never experienced the uglier side of mage slavery.
Night is falling, the sun casting long shadows down the road. You always find the darkness comforting - it feels as if San is near. Today he is; you raise your fist and knock thrice on the solid wood of the gates, lifting your hand in recognition of the guards who peek over the turrets.
Slowly, they ease open the doors, and you stride into the courtyard, your boots clicking against the roughly hewn pavings. A squadron of your soldiers are sparring, but they halt their training when you enter, snapping to attention as you stop at the centre of the space, the dying rays of the sun streaming down the steps towards you, the air still as you wait.
He appears, his gilded silhouette glorious at the top of the stairs. His shadow guards spill down the steps towards you as he descends; their bodies contort and bend, the swirling mass of them parting around you, liquid night, jaws snapping, circling you until you’re surrounded.
A smirk pulls at your lips, and you throw the bag at his feet. You do not bow low, simply dipping your chin as he extracts the head from the sack, inspecting it and nodding before returning it to its roughly woven grave and handing it to one of his shadows to take away. Meeting your eyes, his own filled with amusement, the hint of a smile flashes over his face.
‘Welcome home, my love.’
San’s words are soft, voice quiet enough for only you to hear. You suppress the urge to pull down your mask and kiss him, instead letting your fingers brush against his as you walk with him up the steps and into the hanok; his shadows close the door behind you and the moment they do, he hooks an arm around your waist and hugs you tight, his embrace warm and sweet as always.
You laugh. ‘I was only gone four days, Sannie.’
‘Four days too long for me to be separated from my wife,’ he replies, pushing your cowl back so he can kiss your forehead.
Gripping his shoulders, you tug him down so you can peck his lips before sending him out to the courtyard again - you’re the last person expected through the gates tonight, so he should go out and dismiss the mages training in the courtyard so they can go home to their families and lock up. A happy sigh leaves you as you toe off your shoes, walking through your home and stripping off your bloody clothes before submerging yourself in the pool sunken in the floor. San has already filled it with fresh water, and it takes you mere seconds to heat it up with your fire.
Leaning with your head against the wooden ledge of the pool, you let your muscles loosen, half closing your eyes. The silence doesn’t last long, though - there’s a soft, steady noise coming from the screen behind you, almost like… breathing.
‘Show yourself,’ you command into the still air.
A man steps into view - a human, eyes crazed, knife clutched in his fingers. You realise he does not know who you really are; he just assumes you are the mage warlord San’s wife, delicate and helpless, and you let that role engulf you, backing away to the other edge of the pool with your eyes wide, luring him closer.
‘Your man took everything from me,’ he spits, blade pointed at you as he stalks forward. ‘He took my power, my wealth, my squadron of soldiers. And now I will take his wife.’
Surging out of the pool, you dodge the swipe he aims at you, sending fire surging down the knife’s handle so he drops it with a cry and twisting his arm behind his back in the most painful way possible, wrenching him down to his knees with his face an inch above the water.
‘How did you get in?’ You ask coolly.
‘I’ll never tell y - ’
You send tongues of flame licking down his ribs. ‘Answer the question or suffer.’
The door eases open, revealing San. His eyes land on you, water dripping down your body as you pin the man to the floor, then the distorted reflection from the blade of the knife that’s fallen into the pool, and something dangerous flashes inside his gaze. You let him grab your attacker by the front of his shirt, lifting him off his feet as he brings him face to face with him; you see San’s jaw clench, his hands balling into fists.
‘How fucking dare you try to come anywhere near my wife,’ he growls, shadows coalescing behind him.
You can tell he’s about to say something else, but he stops as the man, trembling and fruitlessly clawing at San’s fingers, wets himself. Your husband’s lip curls in disgust, and he drops him at your feet, pressing him down onto his knees and yanking his head up so he is forced to look up at you. Bending down, you breathe in the sheer fear permeating the air, a soft smile on your face.
‘Now, answer the question.’
‘You’re not his wife,’ he whispers, pale.
‘Oh, but I am,’ you sneer. ‘But that’s not the only role I occupy.’
Slowly, his face drains of colour, horror rippling across it as it slowly dawns on him. He recoils in San’s grasp, scrabbling at the floor in a sorry attempt to put distance between you; he has finally realised who you are and he acts like fucking coward, his mouth gaping wide in a silent plea. Unhurried, you fish the knife out from the pool, twirling it around your thumb before gliding it gently over the skin of his throat.
‘I’m getting impatient.’
‘I - I - the guards, they were distracted upon your arrival, I snuck in at the southern perimeter, please don’t - ’
His words dissolve into a weak gurgle when you slice open his throat. Blood gushes from the seams of the wound, dribbling from his lips, and you step back as he tips forward, landing with a wet thump face first on the wooden floor. Glancing up at San, you sigh before getting back in the pool. One of his shadows carries the body away and your husband tugs his clothes off and slides into the water beside you, pulling you into his chest.
‘He did not hurt you, I presume?’
You snort. ‘He tried.’
San’s fingers run thoughtfully up and down your arm. ‘I’ll talk to the guards. I probably shouldn’t have put Jisung on dusk duty while he was recovering from that fever.’
You nod but don’t answer, instead pressing a kiss to his collarbone. He hums, tipping his head back to give you more access as you mouth at his skin, letting your palms wander over his shapely chest, grip his broad shoulders, skim his waist; you trace the many scars all over his body, and he allows you to, his strong hands gripping your hips when you settle in his lap.
He curses low at the feel of your teeth sinking into the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, his hips jerking upwards, and you both groan at the sensation of the underside of his cock grazing your clit. Smirking, you let your tongue lave over the spot where you bit, pressing a kiss to his jaw and pulling back as his hands tighten their grip on your ass.
‘Missed you too, Sannie. Good to know how much you missed me.’
‘So fucking bratty,’ he hisses.
A thrill shoots through you as he stands, the water sluicing in rivulets down the planes of his chest, lifting you and laying you on the edge of the pool, pinning your knees to the wood and spreading you open. The crude way he looks at you is all consuming, his eyes surveying you from where he stands with the water to his mid thigh, watching as you pussy clenches at the sight of him towering over you.
San remains there, just looking at you, and you curve your spine, almost whining in attempt to make him touch you without you asking for it. His lips quirk to the side as you squirm, trying to inch your hips down so you can grind against him, but his fingers tighten on you, refusing you.
‘What is it you require of me, love?’
Finding your attempts unsuccessful, you huff, glaring at him. He loves to do this, make you articulate exactly what you want from him - he likes the flush that heats your cheeks, your body still shy even after all your years with him, he likes the breathy noises you make when he forces you to tell him just what you desire when all you can think of is his dick, he likes it when you can’t help but beg him.
‘Y - your fingers,’ you mumble. ‘And your cock.’
‘Say that louder for me, sweetheart, I didn’t catch the last bit.’
‘Your fingers and your fucking cock,’ you snap - a sorry endeavour at trying to hide how much you love when he inflicts this upon you.
San raises an eyebrow, not moving to touch you. Waiting.
‘Please,’ you add.
He smiles. ‘There we go. Wasn’t so hard, was it?’
Your mouth opens to retort, but he slips his fingers inside you, and your back bows, a soft moan leaving your lips as he sweeps his thumb over your clit, his other hand palming your breasts, his tongue dragging over your skin. Burying your hands in his hair, you tug, making him groan low and deep as you pull him closer.
Delectably, his fingers curl, and you ache for him. San has ruined you for anyone else, he is branded onto your soul and also your body, fading marks from your last time together still slightly visible on your throat - a necklace of love bites, laying claim to you. He catches your chin as he brings you closer to the edge, tasting your moans on his tongue, grinding his palm against your clit.
You keen, coming hard around him, chest heaving, and he smirks, holding your waist as shudders wrack your legs from the aftershocks. The fire in his eyes burns ever brighter, so hot you feel your stomach go molten - your hands tighten on his shoulders, nails raking over his back, your tongue unable to form anything other than his name.
‘You’re always so willing to behave once your pussy’s full, hm?’
‘No, I,’ you start, but cry out when he pinches your clit in warning, the muscles of your thighs jumping as it lances through you, white hot. ‘Y - yes, yes, I am, please - ’
In one fluid movement, San buries himself inside you, sheathing himself until his hips kiss yours. Catching you wrists in his hand, he pins them above your head, and your back arches as he pulls out, agonisingly slowly, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging on your walls before slamming back in, tearing a cry of his name from your chest. Tugging your legs up from where they were wrapped around his waist, he hooks your knees over his shoulders - the new angle makes you sob, writhing beneath him as his cock head drives into perfection, drives you to euphoria.
Sometimes, San makes love to you, but not tonight: tonight he fucks into you mercilessly, traces of possessiveness lacing his actions as he litters your skin with bites, his hands leaving exquisite bruises on your hips. Pleasure tears through you like an arrow through your heart, white hot and maddening, ravenous.
‘You fit around my cock so well,’ he pants. ‘Like you were made for me, sweetheart.’
Something snaps inside you at his words, and as if he senses it, San presses his thumb down hard on your clit, speeding up his thrusts until the air is punched from your lungs. Stars flash before your eyes, and your mouth falls open, toes curling as you come on his cock, your cunt convulsing around him, thighs twitching; he doesn’t stop, just continues ploughing into you, and you tremble, tears slipping down your cheeks at the relentless pound of his hips into yours.
With a gasp, he pulls out and comes over your stomach, his wide shoulders rising and falling with heaving breaths, and you groan as he eases you back into the warm water, a hand cupping the back of your neck as he tucks your head under his chin, sliding his softening cock into you again. Wrapping your arms around him, you press a kiss to his jaw and rest your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.
‘How do you feel, my love?’
You nuzzle your face into his shoulder. ‘Good. Really fucking good.’
He laughs, and you bask in the sound of his happiness and the comfort of his warm skin against yours. San’s hands run up and down your spine, soothing, and you smile sleepily; you are home, reunited with your other half, the missing part of your soul.
With San, you are complete.
#fic rec#ummmm HOLY FUCK ????#DUDE#WHERE DO I BEGIN#i’ve been wanting to read this for so long#i’m so glad i could sit down to read it bc THIS#THISSSS#IS A GODDAMN MASTERPIECE#it reads like an epic novel#like#just so incredibly immersive#and the character development of san and mc !!!!! GOOD GOD i’m in love with both of them#and the SMUT OH MY GODDD#it gave me heart palpitations in the best way#i’m insane over this fic op like you don’t understandddd 😭😭😭😭#i gasped i cried i came i mean WHAT#anywayss 10000/10 would read again#listen#you are an incredible writer#i just#omg#im in awe#alsooo can you add me to your ateez tag list please? 🥹💞
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So it turns out getting positive reinforcement on a drawing every 10 minutes for the better part of a week really does wonders for my dedication to finishing it and pushing myself on the details. who woulda thunk. Anyway. Ive been having an absolute blast drawing this and slowly creating the studio space here and I can't wait to draw all the fun new ideas yall gave me !! Crowley does pottery !!!
#this is also reminding me how goddamn long it takes me to draw#idk how all the gomens artists i follow are making such masterpieces so quickly#very impressive#pls give me ideas for more easter eggs to put in the studio !!#crowley does pottery#blainkes wips#good omens#good omens fanart#anthony j crowley
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#roxy lalonde#homestuck roxy#hs roxy#homestuck fanart#homestuck#csp#clip studio paint#my art#bill nelson#I fucking love that song#that album is a goddamn masterpiece…#quit dreaming and get on the beam#Spotify
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happy birthday to my dear buddy @/aburage_ on insta
it was yesterday but like i'm posting today so i'm still OK!! She made such an amazing futur AU for TOV <3
#my art#friend's art#tov#tales of vesperia#flynn#yuri#i rly awnna redraw all of her designs someday#because GYATT DAMN it feels like the sequel i've been waiting forever#goddamn bandai namco#JUST MAKE MORE MERCH FOR TOV AGAIN#if you amke a sequel.. if you ever DARE#just make it good#because Tales of Symphonia 2 made me die inside#I MEAN I ironically love it... because i played it as a kid#but ultimately... yeahh what a downgrade to TOS who is just... still so good and a masterpiece imo but idk idk#HAPPY BIRTHDAY HOMIE i love you
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i’m going to [remembers i should stop saying ‘kill myself’] rewatch the deadpool 2 opening scene
#user: gossippool 😝#A Masterpiece that also makes me sad every goddamn time#honestly just me whenever i listen to ashes#perfect. life ruining. heartbreaking. glorious#deadpool#wade wilson
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"Now time for the weather!
Tiffany?"
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i'll be honest getting attached to apollo & nahyuta's whole thing was not part of my plans for 2025
#i have not actively participated in the fandom for two goddamn years and all of a sudden my brain went#yeah these two. from a game you don't even like. let's think about them#and it's fucking hilarious. i'm just going with it tbh#it's fine! i've turned poorly written things into masterpieces before and i'll do it again‼️‼️‼️
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Son letting his dad rape his mouth after a long day. Sitting on his knees for him, boxers around his thighs as he needily jerks off and lets his throat constrict around his dad’s cock. Getting gripped by the hair as he pulls out just so he can cum all over his boy’s face and watch it drip. <3
#fauxcest#fauxc3st#rough cnc#father/son#oldermen#rough nsft#sacred things#bottomposting#rough kink#You better believe I’m not a spitter or a swallower#I’m a goddamn painter I want a masterpiece on my face#Anyways I saw too many dad x daughter posts today so I had to make one to offset it#Maybe one day there will be an equal balance 😭#Anyways uhhhhh yeahahg blowjobs areh uhnnhhhh they’re good#Aight I feel stupid now don’t read these stop reading
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nothing in my life has ever made me feel 'where'd all the time go, it's starting to fly' as deep in my bones as haikyuu has
#i will always come back to this story these characters this masterpiece#i can see myself rewatching this in my goddamn forties#i really can. and i can already imagine the onslaught of emotions ill experience at that point as well.#i'd probably bawl my eyes out every other episode#haikyuu#greatest thing ive ever seen#hq
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she and this whole scene mean everything to me!!!!! i cant believe people were saying this season was bad when this episode exists it's fucking beautiful and i would die for tina <333
#and mikey#this show is so goddamn good oh my god and this epsiode is a masterpiece im so glad we got a tina focused ep#the bear#the bear season 3#going back and correcting my posts cos i kept calling mikey frank lmao
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Just cause I finished rewatching it again
Summertime Rendering is one of my favourite stories of all time.
It is just so solid front to back, the characters and pacing is fantastic, the tone is great, and it is my go to standard for how much gore and violence is the perfect amount to punctuate a given story.
It's so goddam clever down to the last detail, and on top of that the anime's production is off the fucking charts.
Watch it.
#brought to you by the fact that i checked and it's the same director who will be working on the upcoming WHA adaptation#he also did After the Rain (which is also a masterpiece by the by)#So if any Witch Hat Atelier fans are into mystery/horror#check this one out to vibe with the director's style#Akiyuki Shinbo may be my favourite director#but Ayumu Watanabe is a goddamn contender#(he also did Komi Can't Communicate which is also excellent but also it's already popular lmao)#anime#Summertime Rendering
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haven’t been super active the last several days cause I was binging arcane and being very normal about it
#i just finished it. and goddamn that show really was a masterpiece I’m so glad I finally watched it#I literally have not done anything besides arcane watching and fic reading for the last several days#rest of the break will be dedicated to jrwi and drawing and writing now :3
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how tf do i move on from this
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so I finished reading Turnabout Enemies and just about screamed throughout the entire thing— from delight and in baffled confusion in true ace attorney case fashion— so have this from one of the final scenes of the fic (chapter 21 to be specific!) because I am INCREDIBLY predictable
#my art#fanart for a fic#Ace Attorney#Manfred von Karma#Miles Edgeworth#Gregory Edgeworth#I read this fic and went "well nothing I could write at this point in time can compare to this goddamn masterpiece this fuckin rocks !''#so I decided to do some fanart for it instead < 3#and of course. its what im most mentally ill about regarding those lawyers#and that’s baby Miles and Manfred having a dELIGHTFUL developing father-son relationship.#and Gregory is both alive and became his friend-rival. That is MY CUP OF T E AAAAAAA#hell yeah brother#rea’s trash
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youtube
I am obligated to recommend people play the Suikoden 1 & 2 remasters when they come out in March!!!!
These games (and in particular Suikoden 2) are beloved classics of the RPG world, but folks these days haven't had the opportunity to play them because physical copies of the games have been known to run $200+.
I need more people to know these characters. I need more people to experience the worldbuilding around the True Runes. I need more people to acknowledge this series existed. 🥺
#Suikoden#Suikoden 2#for those unfamiliar with the series:#these games take place in the same world but their plots are unconnected enough that you can play them in any order#I played 3 first. then 2 and then 1 lmao#3 was great and got me into the series. 1 was pretty good and fun to experience. 2 is a goddamn masterpiece#i have yet to play 4 and 5 but i plan to someday eventually
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I am obsessed.
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