#It's not that he thinks they'd be bad at taking charge because he knows they know how to do that

[paragonrobits]

It was an honest question, and not meant in mean-ness or disrespect. So Auxillary Arch-Sciencewretch Bongo paused, a cup of tea up to his mandibles.

He gently put the cup down and folded several of his arms together, contemplating how to proceed. First he wondered if it was important to correct the ambassador on the mistake of referring to him as human. He decided to dismiss it; there was generally a growing period for species new to the galactic community where they were prone to thinking of broad, species-based groups. The error of species-as-society. In time, they'd adjust to the idea of a society being bigger than a single species, of forms of identity on a shared cultural basis in a way different than they might be used to.

He was not human in a technical sense, but as the humans had begun what was generally called the Pansolar Coalition, an interplanetary governing body and representative democracy of many species, it was pretty common to conflate humans with the group as a whole.

And to be fair, his own species had been made on Earth; uplifted arachnids, and he was among those who had chosen to go about piloted a humanoid robotic chassis to interact with larger beings, which also looked like a big humanoid spider-thing because he had an aesthetic and by God he was going to STICK TO IT.

The ambassador was a robot; not an organic being using a chassis or a voluntary cyborg, nor was he a sapient artificial intelligence installed into a robotic platform. His kind were naturally occurring robots; Bongo wasn't sure how that happened, but there they were.

Bongo said, carefully, "That question is more delicate than you may realize."

"How so?" The ambassador's optics flickered in a way conveying genuine puzzlement, so Bongo chose to take things easy on him.

"Well, is not terraforming something done by your people?"

"Ah. Yes, but not as much as you; we don't need to adapt a planet to suit ourselves to it, we just adapt ourselves."

"Indeed. Well, I am afraid the majority of my... well, not my species exactly, but my kind, or rather the fellow kin among the Coalition, we can't adapt as easily as you. And there's ethical concerns."

"Ethics? In what, exactly?"

"Tell me. What do you know about the religious concept of stewardship?"

"Hrm. I think I had a briefing about it. Isn't the idea of sapient beings given a charge by divinity to protect and care for the world as they know it?"

"Quite so."

The ambassador hesitated. Bongo gave off the impression that it was self explainatory, but it seemed a mystery to him. "I'm not sure I follow?"

"As being with the ability and power to do so, we feel it is an obligation to care for our worlds; we have hundreds, yes, and that is because we are prepared to spend so much time and resources caring for a single world, and we apply that to all our worlds. Great damage has been done in the past, during a more thoughtless age. Now we are wiser, and we understand that it is our duty to care for the worlds."

The ambassador was quiet.

Eventually he said, "So its like gardening, I think?"

"Yes, that's a way of looking at it. We're not seperate from the garden; we're a part of it. We're all part of a vast and flowing network of life and death, birth and rebirth. We cannot be seperated from it, and so it is bad, to us, to exert power over it. If we spend many resources to do just that, it is simply our way."

The ambassador was quiet, again, this time for a while.

"I think," he said carefully. "I still don't quite understand, but I think I would like to."

There were some who disputed that the ambassador's people were ready to join the galactic community. But in the ambassador's words, Bongo saw hope for the future yet.

"You humans have hundreds of planets under your control, so why do you waste so many resources trying to make that Earth planet habital? I genuinely don't understand."

[princeof-flowers]

Eingail nonchalantly mentions to Vincent that they once were seriously considered as a potential candidate for next High-King of Skyrim and he immediately speedruns the stages of grief because like-

Yeah, he loves and respects Eingail, but under no circumstances should they ever be made into a ruler.

[odinsblog]

“I first started noticing the journalists dying on Instagram. I'm a journalist, I'm Arab, and I've reported on war. A big part of my community is other Arab journalists who do the same thing.

And when someone dies, news travels fast. Recently, I pulled up the list that the Committee to Protect Journalists has been keeping and looked at it for the first time. There are 95 journalists and media workers on it as of today.

Almost everyone on it is Palestinian. Scrolling through, I started to get angry. These were the people carrying the burden of documenting this whole war.

Israel is not allowing foreign journalists into Gaza, except on rare occasions with military escorts. These people's names are being buried in a giant list that keeps growing. What I want to do is lift some of them off the list for a moment and give you a glimpse of who they were and the work they made.

I'll start with Sadi Mansour. Sadi was the director of Al-Quds News Network, and he posted a 22-second video on November 18. That was a report from the war, but it also gave me a picture into his marriage.

Sadi's wearing his press vest and looks exhausted. He's explaining that cell service and the Internet keep getting cut off, and it's often impossible to text or call anyone, including his wife. So they've resorted to using handwritten letters to communicate while he's out reporting, sending them back and forth with neighbors or colleagues.

He ends the video with a picture of one of these letters from his wife. In it, she writes,

‘Me and the kids stayed up waiting for you until the morning, and you didn't come home. We were really sad.

I kept telling the kids, Look, he's coming. But you didn't show up. May God forgive you.

Come home tomorrow and eat with us. Do you want me to make you kebab or maybe kapse? Bring your friends with you, it's okay.

And give Azeez the battery to charge. What do you think about me sending you handwritten letters with messenger pigeons from now on? Ha ha ha.

I'm just kidding. I want to curse at you, but we're living in a war. Too bad.

Okay, I love you. Bye.’

A few hours after he shared that letter, Sadie and his co-worker Hassouna Saleem were at Sadie's home, when they were killed by an Israeli air strike that hit his house.

His wife and kids, who weren't there, survived.

Gaza is tiny, and the journalist community is really close. Reading the list, you can see all the connections between people. Like with Brahim Lafi.

Brahim was a photojournalist, one of the first journalists to die. He was killed while reporting on October 7. He was just 21, still new to journalism.

On his Instagram, you can see that in his posts just a few years ago, he was still practicing his photography, taking pictures of coffee cups and flowers. Then he started doing beautiful portraits and action shots. You can really feel him starting to become a journalist.

Clicking around on Instagram, I found a tribute post about Brahim from his co-worker Rushdie Sarraj. In this photo, Brahim staring intently at the back of a camera, his face lit up by the light from the viewfinder. He looks so young.

The caption reads, My assistant is gone. Brahim is gone. Rushdie himself was a beloved journalist and filmmaker.

And I know that because he's also on the list. He was killed just two weeks after Brahim. I read the tribute post to him too.

I saw this over and over again. Journalists posting tributes, who were then killed themselves soon after. And a tribute goes up for them.

And then the pattern continues.

Thank you.

Something else I saw over and over on the list, journalists later in the war who had become aware that they could be making their last reports. They'd say it at the beginning of their videos. And those were the hardest to watch, especially when it was true.

One video like that was posted by Ayat Hadduro. Ayat was a freelance journalist and video blogger. Her videos before the war covered a wide range from what I can tell, interviews about women in politics.

She even appeared in a commercial for ketchup-flavored chips. She clearly liked being in front of the camera. Once the war started, Ayat's pivoted to covering bombings and food shortages.

On November 20, she posted a video report from her home. You can hear the airstrikes hitting very close to where she is. It's scary.

‘This is likely my last video. Today, the occupation forces dropped phosphorus bombs on Beit Lahya area and frightening sound bombs. They dropped letters from the sky, ordering everyone to evacuate.

Everyone ran into the streets in the craziest way. No one knows where to go.

But everyone else has evacuated. They don't know where they're going. The situation is so scary.

What's happening is so tough, and may God have mercy on us.’

She was killed later that day.

Targeting journalists, in case you didn't know, is a war crime. So far, the Committee to Protect Journalists has found that three of the journalists on the list were explicitly targeted by the IDF, the Israeli military. Investigations by the Washington Post and Reuters, Human Rights Watch and the United Nations have also raised serious questions in these three cases.

And the Committee to Protect Journalists is investigating 10 other killings. When we reached out to the IDF for comments, they said, quote, the IDF has never, and will never, deliberately target journalists. That's the answer they always give in these situations.

Meanwhile, dozens of seasoned reporters have fled Gaza. Journalists who worked for Al Jazeera, the BBC, the New York Times, the Washington Post, Reuters, Agence France-Presse. So many media offices were demolished in Israeli airstrikes that the Committee to Protect Journalists stopped counting.

It's not just individual lives that have been destroyed. It's an entire infrastructure.

Thank you.

The name on the list that was hardest for me to look at was Issam Abdullah, because I'd crossed paths with him once. Issam was a Lebanese journalist, a video journalist for Reuters for many, many years. He had just won an award for coverage of Ukraine.

I'm Lebanese and still report there sometimes, and I'd worked with Issam a couple of summers ago. He helped me film a sort of random story in Beirut. I was interviewing this entrepreneur who had started a sperm freezing company after an accident where he spilled a tray of hot coffee on his private area, burning himself.

I know, ridiculous. It was a really silly shoot. Right after we said cut and started to rap, Issam started this whole bit about being in his late 30s, reconsidering his own sperm quality and everything he now realized he was doing to hurt it, and no one could stop laughing.

It was a really good day that felt good to remember and to remember him that way. Issam was killed by the IDF on October 13. His death was one of the three that the Committee to Protect Journalists has identified as a targeted killing.

He was fired upon by an Israeli tank while standing in an empty field on the Lebanon-Israel border with a small group of other journalists. Everyone was wearing press vests with cameras out. They were covering the Hezbollah part of this war.

A few other journalists were injured in the attack, which was captured on video. The IDF says they were responding to firing from Hezbollah, not targeting the journalists. But multiple investigations, including by Reuters, the United Nations, Amnesty International and the AFP, found no evidence of any firing from the location of the journalists before the IDF shot at them.

The journalists in the group and video footage confirmed that there was no military activity near them. I had only met Issam once, barely knew him, but it affected me so much when he died. I know that he understood the risks of his job, but somehow it still felt so random and unfair that he would be struck down like that, following the rules, wearing his press vest and helmet, and a pack of reporters on a sunny day in an open field.

I find myself thinking about him all the time. His last Instagram post was commemorating another journalist, this iconic reporter Shereen Abou Aql who had been killed by the IDF. When I first saw that post in October, I thought how ironic because a week later, Isam also was killed by the IDF.

But then, after spending time reading the list, I realized how common this had become. I still haven't finished going through the list and looking up the people on it. I keep finding things that stick with me, like the funny way this one radio host would cut off a caller who was rambling on for too long.

A tweet from reporter Al-Abdallah that quoted Sylvia Plath. It read, What ceremony of wars can patch the havoc? I'm going to keep going down the list, even though this story is over now.

Just for myself. My own way of bearing witness. Which is, in the end, all that these journalists were trying to do.���

—DANA BALLOUT, The 95. Dana sifts through a very long list—the list of journalists killed in the Israel-Hamas war, and comes back with five small fragments of the lives of the people on it. Dana is a Lebanese-American, Emmy-nominated documentary producer.

[violenteconomics]

the first-years accidentally enter a Sage's Island singing competition, because yuu saw the words "participation money" on the poster and signed them up immediately because the vacation fund, you guys, THE VACATION FUND-- (different au from the restaurant, btw)

the contest is through video submissions, so yuu brings all the first-year together to pump out a semi-decent, story-driven music video (think "last friday night" by katy perry -- a mix of story cutscenes and actual dancing). they used to dabble in making original music back home, so they write up a quick, catchy song, and assign everyone their roles.

after the whole fairy gala thing, jack and ortho are very adept at making walking/flying look fabulous, and so they're the main stars for the acting segments. ortho is also in charge of the technical parts: providing equipment, editing, etc. jack is very embarrassed over the idea of being in a music video that a bunch of people will see, but after he sees leona eat a mouse off the floor because he was too lazy to pick up the plate of food ruggie left for him, he decides he really needs his vacation as soon as possible. same for ortho, except he had to watch idia heat up a cup of ramen, drop the whole thing on the ground, and then proceed to still eat it anyway.

since ace actually knows what people like, he's in charge of planning and directing the choreography and writing the story. he's a little bitchy about it, but he's good at what he does, and not nearly as bad as vil, so... little mercies.

being strong enough to carry the heavy equipment, sebek is the one in charge of actually recording the video itself. he's ALSO in charge of making the costumes, being the only one with enough determination to study for five nights straight on modern fashion trends and... y'know, being the only person out of the seven who knows how to sew, lol. being the emotional, sensitive guy he is, he's also in charge of the lighting and the overall aesthetic of the video, knowing exactly which elements will evoke what response in people (aka, he throws a bunch of things at the wall and sees which one makes him cry the hardest). don't worry-- yuu keeps him from plastering malleus's face all over it.

that leaves epel and deuce to be the dancers. luckily, the choreography isn't nearly as... bubblegum pop, i guess, as "absolutely beautiful", so it doesn't take a whole lot of convincing for them to do it. deuce, like jack and ortho, isn't entirely sure of being on camera, but then trey gets called back to the queendom by a family emergency, and the whole dorm goes to shit and somehow catches on fire, soooooo...

at the end, they submit their video, and grab their participation money. and they honestly think that's the end of it...

...until they get an email saying they won first place, the video blows up on TwistTube, articles start getting written analyzing the metaphors and complex story in the video, and now eric venue is coming to sage's island to see if they'd be willing to do a promotional music video for a movie he's producing.

uhhhhh... whoops?

[lightningidle]

I am once again emotional about Riz Gukgak, this time because he is (as far as we know) the only Bad Kid actively thinking about the group's future together. The entire plot of The Seven was the Seven Maidens fighting tooth and nail to all graduate together and remain an adventuring party, but as Junior Year kicks off, Riz is the only one we see trying to chart a course for the whole group.

This doesn't mean the other Bad Kids don't care! Of course they do!! All of them have big things to deal with, be it breakups or a lack of parental figures or a lack of direction or a lack of money, the list goes on. But as the future looms ever nearer, Riz is the only one we've seen thus far thinking about everyone's future together, not just his own.

"The years will go by, and everyone will find someone that matters more to them than you."

It can be hard to be the friend that always makes the plans. It can be hard to be the friend who's constantly reaching out first, who's always the one facilitating hangouts, who's always taking charge because (especially as you get older and your time becomes less structured) without someone taking the wheel, the gang won't be getting together for weeks at a time, if at all. None of this means the gang doesn't want to spend time together, just that as you age, it takes more effort to make happen. and more often than not, it tends to fall on one person to see that through.

And even though you love your friends, even though you know the work is worth it, even though the work itself is your love language, it can sometimes feel like none of them care as much as you do. Whether or not it's true, sometimes it feels like, if you just stopped trying, no one else would pick up the slack, because it doesn't matter to them the way it matters to you.

"Why do you think your friends keep you around, Riz Gukgak? If it had not been for detention on your first day of school, and for you to solve this little mystery, do you think they'd look at you as someone they can truly understand? Or are you just a funny little thing that finds the clues?"

At the end of the day, the Bad Kids love each other. These friendships are meaningful and important, and they all put effort into taking care of each other. Riz is the little shrimp (honorific)(affectionate) of his crew because he belongs, not because he's simply tolerated.

But like he told his mom before Boys Night, he has a hard time relating to them when there's not a problem to solve. As he told his dad, he feels the distance between himself and the group as someone who doesn't get the hype around getting their kisses in. Work is his love language. And if he can do this— lay out the pieces, solve the puzzle, do the work to make sure that there's a future for all of them as a team— then he can prove he's worth keeping around.

Right?

[thegnomelord]

Ahh I love the food thing that you got asked <3 food can have such a special place in our lives it's so precious

Ya think Hound develop concerning eating habits due to Makarov? Due to the whole stressful situation

I just want someone in the 141 to cook him a meal, filled with love and care, maybe Hound is in the kitchen watching them cook it for his own security.

I just want him to have a nice meal 😔

-🐙

I do feel like Hound would have some food hoarding habits or just distrust about eating something he didn't make himself. It wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten drugged through food...

But the 141 making food communally would be a fun idea lol so here's a quick brain fart :D :

You feel out of place. Well, you're always out of place, but you feel especially out of place sitting at the table while Soap and and Gaz busy themselves by the stove, Price humming to himself to the side as he gets the mugs to make tea. Ghost sits next to you grumbling under his breath, both of you in 'time-out' — you hadn't done anything (save for not being trusted around anything sharp), it's Ghost that had gone and microwaved beans in the can. Now Johnny swears up and down the microwave is possessed.

Your eyes flicker between Soap and Gaz, watching them cook you don't even know what. The only British 'cuisine' you know of is the cremated steaks Price would sometimes make you before. . . that. But nothing the two are making smells nearly as bad as the charred hockey pucks Price would feed you and Simon.

"Hey!" Your brought out of your thoughts in time to see Kyle swat away Price's hand with his spatula. "Don't you dare cap! I'm not about to get rained on because of your bad cooking." You hadn't considered Gaz could take charge, too soft in your eyes, but you're surprised by how tight of a ship he runs when he's by the stove.

"Alright, alright." Price huffs while Ghost lets out an amused huff. He's not quite laughing, but you can see the subtle tremor of his shoulders in silent laughter.

That gets Soap to point a spoon in Ghost's direction. "Oh yer one te fockin' giggle. Mr. 'ah cursed the damn microwave with me beans'."

"Sod off." Simon grunts, but there's no edge to his words. Soap tuts, but soon enough starts off rambling about something you're not quite able to follow along to when your eyes once again focus on where their arms are, how they move, paying especially close attention any time they rest them by their sides (even though realistically you doubt they'd try to drug the same food they'd eat).

You still tense when you feel Price's hand on your back, only now noticing that you'd started hunching your back, your shoulders raised closer to your ears. "You're alright, straighten your spine, sweetheart." His voice is calm, his hand warm as he applies gentle pressure on your back until you straighten back out. "There you go, good man." He rumbles, hand going up to ruffle your hair before he pulls away before his touch can turn into stinging pain to your skin.

You blink as a plate full of food is placed in front of you. The food smells good and doesn't look like it had been cremated, made with care you don't deserve. "I. . ." You don't know why but your throat feels clogged, like someone had poured hot tar into your mouth and forced you to swallow, the collar around your throat constricting your breathing even more.

Simon's shoulder bumps into yours, "If you don't eat that I will." The childish threat makes you breathe out a small laugh.

"Aye, the bastard's like Henry the hoover, he'll eat anything." Soap supplies as he sits down opposite of you with his own plate. Though you get the impression he's talking about himself when he stabs a sausage with a fork and almost inhales the entire thing.

"Mhm," You grunt, taking the fork. "I don't doubt it." You stab a piece of black pudding. It tastes earthy, but the small coppery tang of blood sizzles down your nerves, but fuck it tastes good.

"Look at that, is it good?" Kyle chuckles as he watches your facial features shift as you swallow the food, his own face that of pride like he already knows your answer, but you nod your head all the same.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

What do you think about Equius and Eridan's ship? I think this is a pretty entertaining idea (I'm aware that they don't really tolerate each other, but maybe they could share their problems with each other and help each other?)

I won't tell people what they should and shouldn't ship, but it's unsupported by canon & I personally don't think they'd be a good fit for each other, because Equius is kind of a prude who's genuinely made uncomfortable by Eridan's incredibly strong emotional neediness, and Eridan needs attention from his friends and especially romantic partners, which Equius isn't really equipped to provide. But again, if you like it, don't let me stop you!

Uhhh warnings for talking about sexual stuff because unfortunately Equius is just kind of Like That and you can't really discuss him in good faith without getting into it.

Basically, Equius's deal is that he's kind of sheltered. His specific position in the hemocaste means he gets to avoid a lot of the awful shit the other highbloods have to deal with, while still being high enough that he gets to avoid lowblood problems entirely. He doesn't have to worry about being culled or even of having to cull others - at least, not until adulthood - to the point where he's in a position to object to Nepeta killing wild animals. The murder of other real, thinking, breathing people seems like a distant problem for future Equius - not a tangible reality quickly catching up to him.

CT: D --> You e%terminate beautiful, innocent creatures by the hundreds CT: D --> I can't condone such wretched behavior CT: D --> Beasts are meant to be 100ked upon with adoration AC: :33 < but AC: :33 < i eat them! AC: :33 < i dont kill anything i dont eat, that would be mean CT: D --> I guess that's basically acceptable in principle, but I still find it a bit unsavory

He knows that Alternia is dangerous, and that bad, horrible things happen to other people (I mean, he's neighbors with Vriska lmao), but he has the privilege of simply electing not to participate, and that's the solution he keeps presenting to Nepeta: don't talk to the lowbloods, because they'll harm you, don't talk to the highbloods, because they'll harm you, and don't play their dangerous games. I mean, it works for him!

CT: D --> The thought of you fraternizing with and abetting those stink-b100ded h001igans strikes me as scandal beyond measure CT: D --> I'm afraid you're too delicate to withstand that sort of corruption

EQUIUS: D --> Yes, which is among the reasons why I must make your prote%ion a high priority EQUIUS: D --> The highb100d has joined a stable of those who are becoming increasingly volatile and murderous as we remain stranded in this laboratory EQUIUS: D --> I command you to steer clear of them, do you understand

He has a kindly lusus who takes very good care of him, met his soulmate very early on, has a neighbor/friend he gets along with pretty well, and gets to spend basically all of his free time pursuing his hobbies and interests with no pressing duties or responsibilities to distract him. As far as is possible on Alternia, he's lived a charmed and peaceful life.

Now, although I'm going to make the caveat early that he's not actually that casteist, Equius is still the most casteist member on the team, short of post-corruption!Gamzee. The fact that he's sheltered is one of the primary reasons for this: he's never had a reason to question casteism, because casteism has always been pretty correct in his book, and he's never had the need nor impetus to question it any further than that. After all, lowbloods DO wind up getting themselves into horrible situations, and highbloods DO tend to be murderous, dangerous assholes. This is just The Way Things Are, right?

For more specific examples, the Team Charge debacle - which Equius had to know about because he's the one who patched Vriska up afterwards - ended with Tavros unable to walk and Aradia "broken" (most of the team didn't know she was dead until they entered the game; Terezi tells Vriska she thinks "whatever Vriska did to her" must've broken her brain somehow since she was never the same since). Meanwhile, the two highbloods really only got injured by each other. In Equius's eyes, this would've reinforced his views: lowbloods live dangerous lives wrought by their inherent degeneracy, and always suffer worse for it, while highbloods are unstable and violent, but ultimately faultless and unpunishable except by each other.

He also - again - is Vriska's neighbor, and Vriska's psionics work best on lowbloods, so that's the vast majority of who she brings in for her lusus to eat. The two most crass people on the team are also Karkat and Sollux - the latter of which is very much a lowblood, while the former regularly throws himself in with the "gutter bloods"; the fact that they swear and make sex jokes genuinely freaks Equius out, since he's a sheltered little noble boy who refuses to say cuss words.

EQUIUS: D --> For pete's goodfornothing di%ie whistling SA%ES, Nepeta

So with Equius, we see how unexamined and uninterrogated privilege and sheltering can lead to genuinely harmful beliefs. Equius's feelings come from a good place: he sees all these poor lowbloods dying and suffering, and all these high bloods doing horrific, scary shit, and he instinctively knows that something is wrong and the world they live in is dangerous - or else he wouldn't be trying to protect Nepeta from it. He knows that because she's lower than he is on the hemospectrum, she's much more at risk than he is of something terrible happening to her, so as much as possible, he tries to keep her away from engaging with the rest of society.

CT: D --> Well, green b100d is ok, but it's not great CT: D --> But that's why you're lucky to have me to 100k out for you CT: D --> Because you don't know better, and you can't fight the role the mother had in store for you

But because he's had no reason to challenge or question the casteist beliefs he was taught, the horrific stuff he witnesses actually reinforces them. In an attempt to make sense out of the terrible world he lives in, he falls back on the easy answers, the ones he's been repeatedly told since he was a child: lowbloods suffer because they are inherently "worse" than highbloods, and highbloods are inherently "better," so they're allowed to indulge all their most violent and horrific impulses and it's not actually a problem. He's comfortable with his reality; why isn't everybody else?

So um, that brings us to the sex stuff. Basically, because Equius is so sheltered, he doesn't realize that he has a massive BDSM kink, and kind of a voyeurism kink, and that a lot of the gratification and pleasure he feels from indulging in them are... um......... "that kind" of gratification and pleasure. To be honest, I think if someone genuinely levelled with him and pointed it out, he'd have a mental breakdown over it. Because, like, at his core, Equius is a polite, kind, helpful guy. There's a reason he listens to Karkat same as the rest of the team, why he helps with Tavros's robot legs, why Nepeta even likes him so much. A lot of his worst aspects just stem from the fact that he's conflating his desire to be stepped on with the hemocaste being an inescapable, correct reality.

He's basically this post lol:

So about specifically him and Eridan, like. We actually have Equius's outright stated opinion on Eridan.

CG: YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT, I DON'T GET IT CG: YOU KISS THE GROUND THIS LUNATIC WALKS ON BECAUSE HE HAS PURPLE BLOOD CG: BUT THAT DOESN'T STOP YOU FROM RIPPING ON ERIDAN, I KNOW FOR A FACT YOU DON'T LIKE HIM CG: AND HIS BLOOD IS EVEN PURPLIER, ISN'T IT? CT: D --> Yes CT: D --> That's different CT: D --> He is a sea dweller CT: D --> Our feud is codified in tradition CT: D --> Neigh, we are obligated to be at odds CT: D --> It's dignified ... CG: THE POINT IS, IF YOU SEE HIM, WOULD YOU MIND SNAPPING HIS STUPID WAND IN HALF OR SOMETHING? CG: AND THEN CHOKE HIM TO DEATH WITH HIS OWN SHITTY PRETENTIOUS SCARF. CT: D --> Do I really have to CG: GOD, WHAT IS THE PROBLEM NOW? CT: D --> I'd prefer not to interact with him CG: WHY CT: D --> It's primarily that his advances make me uncomfortable

See, Eridan... is not really Equius's type. And I can see why! Equius places a lot of importance on decorum and a100fness. Here's him basically telling Gamzee about why he's attracted to Gamzee and Aradia:

CT: D --> See, that's what I mean CT: D --> How is it possible for one of your distin%ion to be so ignorant CT: D --> And loathesome CT: D --> Whereas CT: D --> A member of the most abject, verminous b100dline of all CT: D --> Can conduct herself with such grace and possess nothing but admirable mannerisms CT: D --> I find these striking ju%tapositions perple%ing, and I confess strangely into%icating

He hates that Gamzee acts dumb and friendly, and wants him to be mean and commanding - and is probably lowkey picking up on the fact that Gamzee DOES have that within him, although he's hiding it. At the same time, he's weirdly attracted to how Aradia is aloof, intelligent, and strong-willed, despite being the lowest possible caste. Basically, Equius wants a pretty classically cultured dom to put him in his place - bonus points if caste-play is involved, whether it's a higher caste acting in accordance to their position on the spectrum, or a lower caste degrading him to a point below themselves.

So, initially, you'd think that Eridan would actually be his ideal for such a position, land dweller/sea dweller feud notwithstanding. After all, Eridan is all about acting like a traditional sea dweller, talking up his nobility and how much better he is than the lower castes, wanting the land dwellers dead/in their place, etc. etc.

But that's where we hit a snag. Eridan is pretending. He's pretending in the opposite direction of Gamzee, in fact. Where Gamzee is genuinely quite mean and nasty, but masking that in an attempt to get along better with his friends, Eridan is actually pretty - well, "nice" is the wrong word, but he's desperately presenting himself as meaner and more casteist than he actually is.

Equius wants to be effortlessly dominated, but Eridan puts in 110% at all times. Equius wants someone who upholds the caste system, and Eridan is actually totally indiscriminate when hitting on people because he actually doesn't give a shit about class differences. Equius wants someone who commands respect, but Eridan is kind of the team laughingstock. Also Eridan swears in proportion to his dialogue second only to Karkat.

Eridan's emotional desperation, disregard for the caste system, and cringefail antics are all massive turnoffs for Equius, and in a lot of ways, genuinely kind of scare him. I mean, again, Equius is a sheltered little noble boy who's made uncomfortable by cussing or killing animals for meat - and here's Eridan, one of the team's biggest murderers, genuinely obsessed with death and genocide, mouth of a sailor, willing to shoot his shot with anyone on the hemospectrum. Equius gets along better with Karkat, and Karkat's not even ON the hemospectrum.

It wouldn't even be pitch or ashen hatred to me, because Equius doesn't object to Eridan, morally or ethically - he just finds Eridan uncomfortable to be around, and prefers not to interact with him if he can help it. And that's really bad for Eridan, because Eridan's basically a huge emotional wreck and has a pretty fundamental need for emotional support and attention from his romantic partners - I've touched on it before, I think when I talked about him and Tavros, but Eridan has a genuine anxiety attack when Vriska accidentally ghosts him (because she's mercy killing her lusus), and I really don't think it would be good for him if he were to become emotionally attached to the guy whose whole Thing is standing in the background and watching without interacting.

As for discussing their problems... like, that's kind of the thing? They don't actually have overlapping problems. Eridan's issues primarily stem from the pressures his position on the hemocaste have placed on him, whereas Equius has actually actively benefited from and enjoyed his position in that class structure. Like, even if they tried to share notes on their respective character arcs about shirking the shitty things Alternia imposed on them, it'd be like,

EQUIUS: D--> Did you know that one's position in the hemospe%rum has little to no bearing on their moral integrity or worth as a person ERIDAN: are you a fuckin idiot eq

ERIDAN: guess all that obsessin ovver murder wwas a huge fuckin wwaste ERIDAN: and didnt do me no good nor anybody else for that matter EQUIUS: D--> Well EQUIUS: D--> Yeah

Even if we try to bring in things that aren't strictly related to being a high blood and what that means on Alternia - like if we run with the idea that Eridan's lusus contributed to Eridan's shitty childhood - well, unfortunately, Equius can't relate. Aurthour was incredibly kind to Equius growing up and he loved Aurthour dearly. So on and so forth.

And, uh... this is kind of weird to say, but despite how forward Eridan is about romance, he's actually... kind of reserved, sexually? He doesn't crack sex jokes and his fixation on romantic relationships is more about the act of being in a relationship than about what they do in that relationship. His date ideas are pretty straightforward and traditional, because he tends to prioritize "doing a good job" and "living up to the standard" over how he actually feels or his own personal interests.

What I'm saying is, Equius's horniness would probably make Eridan uncomfortable. Especially before Equius realizes that he's just got massive kinks that he should probably keep under control - which is basically the entire comic - Equius tends to prioritize what they do in a relationship over the act of actually being in a relationship. In fact, he'd probably be just as happy to get domm'd by Gamzee or Aradia even if they weren't actually dating. That's a kind of freedom and trueness to one's desires that Eridan can't manage; moreover, because Eridan tends to prioritize "doing a good job", he's pretty willing to go along with whatever his partner wants - which, in Equius's case, means Eridan doing more of the thing that's actively harmed them both. And I just don't think that that'd be good for Eridan.

So, yeah, overall, not a good fit for each other, but again, don't let me stop you!

The most interesting arrangement of Eridan and Equius, to me personally, is the fact that I think Eridan and Nepeta would actually be pretty good friends once they started talking (and Eridan got a moirail). Nepeta is the Anti-Casteism troll, the only one to outright state that she believes blood color shouldn't matter, and Eridan's whole deal is being less casteist than he pretends to be, to the point of genuinely being the least casteist highblood. And they both RP and hunt for stuff.

However, if there's any example of "dangerous highblood" on the team before Gamzee snaps, it's Eridan, and Equius has pretty deep concern for Nepeta's safety, which actually sometimes comes at Nepeta's detriment. It wouldn't escalate to pitch or ashen, but I really like the idea of the two of them having an antagonistic relationship because Equius does NOT want Nepeta interacting with this insane murderer, while Eridan is like, bro, let the kitty cat cave shipper girl decide for herself, and Nepeta is like, why must boys fight.

[alllgator-blood]

hymns of the unholy drops tomorrow, I'm gonna make a track tier list but here's my initial thoughts before it comes out:

This feels worthy of a "read more" just because there's no pictures to look at and it's four paragraphs. TL;DR the album is very cheesy but I'm literally so excited I'm gonna stay up all night so I can listen to the new album the second it drops. The overly critical part of my brain is telling me I shouldn't derive enjoyment from this album unironically but I'm not gonna obey, I am cringe and free and I'm gonna crank this shit with no shame cause it's the game I like...IN MUSIC FORm

[gif meant to represent me randomly busting it down leshy style when I'm home alone, and singing "THE END AWAITS AS THE OLD FAITH TAKES THE LAST OF MY KIIIIINDDDD" over and over]

The lamb's song was kickass and if I heard it in the wild without knowing there was a metal album for this game, I'd spontaneously combust from sheer excitement. It's instantly recognizable and that's kinda all I wanted from it tbh! I've mentioned before that I'm way more of a djent/shoegaze/sludge fan when it comes to metal rather than the genre these songs have been, but I'm literally so excited the bishops are getting some kind of inclusion in a project that I'm gonna crank this album even if it reminds me of the shadow the hedgehog game soundtrack. Tbh this one is so solid that if they JUST announced this one and didn't make the others, I'd still think it'd stand alone quite well for what it is! Edit: I said I'm cringe and free, why did I spend half this section dunking on the genre.....

Leshy's song..........was totally lame but in an epic way, like the first time I listened to it I thought it was fine! But when I actually read the lyrics I had tears streaming down my face from laughter. I screamed out loud when the guy basically says "btw my name is leshy :)", the lyrics are actually so fucking bad. But c'mon it's LESHY he's the littlest brother, if anyone got a corny ass song it should really be him. The shredding solo at the end is fucking hilarious and if he was in charge of his own song, he 10000% would request that specific ending. Musically, this one sounds the least like the source material so far but it's got that arpeggio from his + amdusias' theme and that's arguably the most iconic part. Also, "DAYLIGHT WILL COME UNDONE AS WE ECLIPSE THE SUN" is insane and is the best part besides describing his blindness as "ETERNAL NIGHTFALL"

Heket's song...........It has my favorite lyrics so far but the vocal work after the 40 second mark had to grow on me. I can't describe it but it sounds like that post grunge style and as a grunge fan, post grunge is my biggest opp in the music world. I was hoping they'd get a female singer for this but for heket specifically I can understand why they didn't. The actual lyrics in the song are fuckin badass, when it gets to the "MAKE YOUR PEACE, CREATURE" part I always turn it up to a deafening volume because it goes BALLISTIC. Genuinely my favorite part of any of these songs so far. I adore that her characterization in this song is layered and isn't just "I'm leshy, I'm made of plants or something and also I'm gonna kill you", it goes through her arc PERFECTLY imo!! Instrumentals in this one are better than the leshy song as well, I really like that they brought back the pitch bending/choppy sampling from the ost for this one

I'm on my hands and knees begging for the shamura song to be good, the leshy song had me worried but they came in clutch for heket. If they don't work in shamura's iconic lines from the game, I'm gonna cry inside I think- I'll forgive a lame kallamar song but ONLY if it's funny. Narinder's theme is gonna be hard to fuck up imo I have faith it'll be top tier

[always-just-red]

hello hi! ik the fandom mostly favors interactions between LIs & MCs/Readers but i was wondering if you have your own ideas between the LADS boys like friendship headcanons between them? how their dynamic works and which would be the best bros with each other or strongest siblings rivalry vibes between them (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

hopefully this is alright to request! 🙏🏻

Hi!! That's totally alright, I've seen so many good takes on this already and I love a good character analysis, so would love to weigh in! I waited to answer this since I was actually working on this fic when you sent it, and that's got all the guys interacting, so check it out if you're interested! 🥰

Disclaimer: These are all my personal headcanons! I'm not the authority on the boys and their characterisations, nor do I claim to be, so pls be respectful if you disagree with anything!

Ok so!

I can see Rafayel and Sylus getting on well once they're more familiar with each-other (though maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part).

I think Sy would honestly force Raf to confront a lot of his own insecurities? After all, Sy seems a lot more comfortable in who he is-- he's got that self-assuredness and charm that we all know Raf has to put more conscious effort into portraying. Whilst we don't know the extent of his past, Sylus has clearly made peace with the fact that he has to do bad things sometimes, whereas Rafayel still seems to have a lot of inner conflict around his actions, morality and identity.

I imagine Raf resenting Sy a little at first and so acting out a bit, trying to one-up him etc, and Sy being Sy, I think he'd probably rise to the challenge (he could be the bigger man, but like, where's the fun in that??)

Sylus is smart, so I think he'd probably realise pretty quickly that Rafayel is masking. They've both been through a lot, and once they see that in each-other there'd be a mutual respect I hope. Plus they probably have common enemies?? So if they can both get over the instinct to lone-wolf it, that's one kick-ass team ready to go (and I will be SEATED, ready to enjoy the view!!!)

If the guys are all out together, Zayne's probably gonna take it upon himself to be mediator, care-taker etc, especially as I think he'd be the one to read between the lines and notice if any of the others are struggling (e.g. if Rafayel's getting worn out in a social setting).

At first, it would be because they're MCs friends! He knows she cares about them, so he's gonna be looking out for them all. But he needs a break! So once they're all more familiar, I can see the others trying to coax him into relaxing and letting his guard down a bit, and he'll appreciate that! (But he will keep one eye on the ball because, like, imagine Raf coming up to you and saying 'I've got this, you can totally trust me' like you would have a med-team on standby, y'know?)

I think Sylus and Zayne would naturally have a bit of rivalry in terms of authority, but it would be light-hearted. There's an ongoing debate around who MC left in charge (Zayne) but there's only one person who's actually convinced by that debate (Sylus). He's gonna assume leadership position anyway, and Zayne lets him get away with it to a specific extent, unless it crosses a line, and then it quickly becomes clear who the real leader is.

Xavier!! I can see Xavier being the 'quiet one' of the group who secretly has a lot more sway than any of them realise. The others are super comfortable around him, especially Zayne when he actually wants to relax, or Rafayel when his social battery is dead. But! Xavier's no push-over, and that quickly becomes apparent in any conflict.

I actually think Sylus would enjoy stoking Xavier's darker side (if Xavier gets involved in an argument you best believe Sylus has the popcorn ready) and that the two would make pretty good sparring partners. They'd have fun with the whole Hunter's Association vs Onychinus thing, similar to the MC/Sylus dynamic.

But at the end of the day?

There's a reason we love the boys-- they're all good guys, and whatever conflicts there are, they're gonna figure it out for MC's sake. They've all been through so much, and they're all selfless in their love for MC, so that's always gonna be something they can relate to and appreciate in each-other.

And I think they could all benefit from more genuine friends?

So yeah! That's my take! I know I love angst but I'm choosing to be an optimist, mostly because I love the found-family trope and I wanna see the boys getting up to sitcom-type shenanigans! 😭😭😭

[gabgabwrites]

FIGHTING TEMPTATION | Tyler Durden

summary ⇝ after forcing your brother to tell you where he spends his evenings, you come across his shared club, with none other than his arrogant and cocky best friend who you swore you didn’t want until things got hot and steamy

warnings ⇝ narratorssister!reader, anguage, violence, smut! p in v, unprotected, choking, voyeurism(?), fingering, over the clothes touching, dirty talk. mdni

ps: yes he’s a real person here

Groans, punches and cheers echoed in the room as men fought and others cheered, and then all went silent, when a woman, you walked down the stairs, the narrators sister

"I want to join." You stated, clearly.

"I don't know what you mean." Tyler Durden said, your brother's best friend. He had to pretend not to know for everyone's sake, as everyone would know what would happen if others knew of him, he stood there, in a white, sweaty beater and jeans.

"I said I'd like to join." You say. Tyler knew that. He just looked at you, like he looked at most people, his smirk was almost cocky, but he was curious now.

"And why exactly, would you like to join?" He asked, taking a drag from his cigarette as his cold eyes burned through you

"Thought it would be fun. I had to coax it out of my brother to tell me where he spends his nights."

"So you think it's a fun night out, hm?" You felt the eyes of a dozen or so men burning on you, they'd all heard you. They weren't smiling, or happy. Men were there to vent not have some woman look at them as part of her evening entertainment

Tyler however, smirked slightly and held in a small chuckle as he looked you up and down. His intense eyes burning as he held you in his gaze

"Why not?"

"Well..." He walked around you, like a wolf circling a deer. He was a lot taller than you, which didn't help your nerves. You could feel his eyes burning through your skin as he circled you, but you didn't break his gaze, you kept your eyes on him, and his smile as he looked down at you. "You look a little weak, don't you think?"

"Because I'm a woman? And actually, why is it only men here?" He laughed then, a real, deep, genuine laugh. It sent chills down your spine when he laughed like that

"I don't mean you'd be too weak because you're a woman. I mean you just look like a weak person." He smirked, taking another drag on his cigarette as he looked down at you, waiting to see what you would say, then he circles you a second time before he stands in front of you. "Fine, if you're so eager to prove you can handle it, then show me. Fight me, if you can hurt me? Then I'll consider letting you in"

"Fight you?" He nods and gestures to the dozen, maybe more, men around the room and laughs

"They all came here to punch each other. Do better. Or else don't waste my time."

You roll your eyes at his response. That cocky smirk doesn't leave his face. He looked so punchable, you could hear his cocky smile in his deep voice.

"What? Don't you like my offer?" He asks, before taking a drag of his cigarette. Holding the smoke for a few seconds before blowing it into your face

You snatch his cigarette and place it between your lips, taking a drag before your fist balled at my sides. The smoke eased your muscles and it felt great, then your balled fist made contact with Tyler's jaw. The smoke bellowed from your nose. The flesh on your fingers tingles with pain.

His teeth gritted as your fist collided with his jaw, sending his entire body backwards.

"Not bad..." he said, with a chuckle, rubbing his jaw, you noticed blood in his mouth, he must've accidentally hit down on his tongue, it made his breath come out through his teeth with a whistle like sound. "Not bad at all."

You let out a satisfied hum. "Anyways, are you like the little ring leader here? Or is it my brother?" You asked, massaging your fingers. He laughs again, almost a chuckle this time but it's more from annoyance. He hated that you'd just punched him

"What? You don't think I'm the one in charge?" He asks with a smile. You could see the blood in his mouth from where you've just hit him and it made you feel satisfied. "Just because your brother founded this place doesn't mean I'm not the one running it"

"Who knows?" You couldn't stop staring at the blood, something about him bleeding was just so— you shook your head at the thought.

His intense eyes stayed on you a moment as you kept staring at how much you'd hurt him, how much you'd made him bleed. "I guess it's settled then?" He smirked, spitting a glob of blood onto the floor next to him that made you cringe, but you supposed be didn't want to swallow. "You passed. Welcome to fight club."

You smirked, looking away from the blood on his lips that made you have preposterous thoughts. He smiled as he stood up straight and rolled his shoulders, feeling the pain in his jaw and on his mouth where you'd hit him

"I suppose you get to pick who you fight first..." he looked around the room, gesturing to all the men around the place "Well? Choose who'll you fight? Or would you like me to choose..."

"You're telling me I'm supposed to punch yet another man?" You scoffed, he chuckles, and the look in his eyes almost seemed mocking as he smirked at you

"Well yes. What? Did you think you were the only person to ever fight me, and live to tell the tale?" he joked as he looked down at you. "Now cmon..." He took a step closer. His eyes almost burned like fires. "Pick someone. Or I'll pick for you"

"There's no other women though?" You mumbled. He almost burst into a fit of laughter as he looked around the room

"Aww... Are you scared to fight a man? But you didn't care about that when you hit me" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as a slight chuckle escaped his lips.

You look at him. "You're barely a man," You hum, just to provoke him. Again, there was that laugh of his that sounded almost like more of a mocking sound than anything

"Is that so?" He says before he takes a step closer to you. His tall figure now towering over you as he looks down at you. "Would you like me to prove you wrong..." he mumbled, lowering his voice as if he didn't want the others to hear what he was saying.

"Knock yourself out."

He chuckles, his chuckle just like from before, but this time it's like it's full of venom and his eyes burning as he looks down at you.

"Fine." he whispered. In a single step, he backed you against the wall, one of his strong hands pinning both of yours above your head while his other hand tightly gripped your jaw. His thumb was digging into your cheek where it was gripping your jaw and you were pinned up above your head, your back against the wall without any way to escape as he kept you pinned there.

He wasn't going to fist fight you, he'd just test your strength.

You lifted your leg up and your heel found his sensitive area, you shoved your foot hard there. He let out a groan of pain as your heel collided with his crotch, sending him backwards a little from the pain as his hands both went to grip his crotch

"Jesus..." he whispered, his voice sounding breathless from the pain.

"He can't save you from that, I'm afraid." You smirked as he raised both eye browns with a pained grin. His knees were bent slightly and his head was lowered as he slowly took his hands away from his crotch to look up at you. His voice was strained as he tried to talk without being in pain, he was trying to breathe normally but kept wincing as he tried to take a deep breath.  

"You fight dirty, girl. I guess you would have to..." His breathing was still rough and his jaw was still strained but he managed to almost force himself to breathe more normally as he spoke as well. "Not fair when I can't hit you there in return."

You roll your eyes (again), with a smirk. "What? It's totally fair."

"Damn," he mumbled, the hint of a smile still on his face. He grunted a little as he pulled both his knees away from one another and took a deep breath to help himself breathe again. "What a shitty way to start." he laughed, almost to himself, as he stood up straight and took a look around while flexing his sore jaw.

His eyes looked around but the room was now looking at him and almost laughing at him for getting hit in the crotch, which pissed him off a little

"You bastards think that's funny?" He spat out, his voice still rough and slightly strained, not wanting them to chuckle at his injury.

A few men mumbled back, some said it wasn't funny while others still let out a few chuckles. But they all quickly shut up when Tyler's hard gaze fell on them all, his face stone cold and serious as he stared at them with his hard eyes.

He looked back down at you and his cold hard glare quickly turned into a smile as you saw a new look in his eyes. He took a step closer to you before he reached out again and grabbed your jaw, but not so tightly this time

"What a bad girl you are..." he said quietly.

"What did I do now?" You raised an eyebrow, ignoring how his fingernails were digging into your skin.

"You know exactly what you did," he leaned in closer and spoke quietly, his warm breath tickling your neck as he leaned in closer to whisper into your ear. "You made my jaw hurt. And you tried to make my balls hurt too."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled in your throat. "Go figure," you giggled. A choked gasp that sounded embarrassingly like a moan escaped your lips when shoved you into the sticky wall, his other hand briefly goes behind your head so you don't get a concussion, before it slips out from behind you, his hand pressing into your jaw, making it tilt upwards, cheeks smushed together.

"Sounds like you're enjoying this, huh?" He says quietly.

"Perhaps."

"Naughty girl," He whispers as his fingers loosen and gently caress your jaw, a smile spreading across his lips as he whispered against your ear. His breath against your skin almost sent a shiver down your spine as he grinned. "Just wait." he whispered, keeping his voice low so the others couldn't hear him.

"For?"

"For your punishment... naughty girls like you get punished don't they?" He says, his voice dropping down to a little more than a whisper. The low growl in his voice was almost seductive as he teased you.

"No," You smirked.

"No...?" He asks, repeating the word again. He almost smiled at you as his fingers still gently caressed your jaw, the rough calluses slightly scratching your delicate chin as he held you in place. "Are you trying to give me attitude?" He asked, his voice growing quieter, barely more than a seductive growl as he whispered.

"Never," His smirk grew at your words, he chuckled softly against your neck, sending his breath against your skin and down your neck. The warm air against your skin made goosebumps spread across your skin and the quietest noise escaped your lips

He went silent, before pushing himself off the wall to face everyone, like nothing happened. A few men still stared at you questioningly. "Right! So let's continue this, make a ring, c'mon."

You shake your head, moving off the wall. A man with a sweaty white shirt raised his hands. What caught your eye was perhaps his enlarged breasts.

"Yes, Bob?"

"So, uh, is she going to fight anyone? I mean, we don't have any other girls and—."

"No, Bob. For now she'll only fight me. Alright! Let's con—."

"So are you going to fight? Rule eight says if it's your first night at fight club then you have to fight," Bob finishes, cutting Tyler off. "And I suppose she has to take off her shirt..."

"Yeah, nice one Bob," another man slaps Bobs arm playfully.

Tyler let out at aggravated sigh. "Thank you, Bob. Yes we will fight," Tyler looks over at you. "You can keep your shirt on."

It seemed you were going to fight, like, actually fight as the men began to circle the room, encasing you and Tyler in the space in the middle as they formed a loop.

Alright, you think, this is what you wanted, you still were surprised.

"Go easy on me?" Tyler let a smirk spread his lips.

Your expression mirrored his. "I'll try." 

He keeps the smile on his face, but his lips look like he's struggling to stop himself from smiling wider as his eyes look down the length of your body, almost taking you in before he looks back up into your eyes

"I'm sure you will," His hands come out in front of him, his legs bend as he bounces in his place. You allow for your hands to raise in front of you, balling your fists. "Ready?"

You nod, you can't clearly recall what happened next, there's blood pumping in your ears, the men's shouts turn to silence as your focus is primarily on Tyler.  During the fight, you can tell Tyler isn't trying to hit you, more so shove you, or get you stationary in his grip.

It isn't a graceful fight, hell, you don't know what you're even doing when you feel him grab your wrist after you tried to punch him. Fighting out of his grip is like trying to separate two flat Lego pieces stuck together with short fingernails. It can be done, but your wrist hurts from his grip.

It's tiring, having to fight him. Maybe this was his tactic, tire you out so that you're weak. You do actually manage to at least bruise him up a little, but nothing to foul.

He lunges forwards, his fists balled up at his sides as he barrels towards you and you can see the emotion in his eyes. You don't have very long to prepare before he's in front of you and he swings out at you with his left hand. 

You manage to duck and take a leap back, but your one foot gets caught in front of the other, resulting in you tumbling forward.  Face sticking to the dirty flooring. You’re able to twist yourself into your back before he pounces on you. He grabs hold of your waist and pushes you further into the floor.

You try turning in his grip, but it's firm as he keeps you pinned to the floor, his strong hands wrapped around your hips as he kept you where he wanted you, his arms almost like a vice and not letting you move.  You even try to knee him in the groin again, but he knew it was coming.

His thighs close around your shin, stabilising it. "I don't think so." He licks his bottom lip, bloodied tongue smearing more blood on his lip.

You let out a groan, still trying to free yourself. His body was pressed against yours, holding you underneath him as you try to wriggle out from under his body. He can feel your body beneath him as you try to move, his body warm and almost sweaty as he pressed his body down against you and he could smell the sweat coming off of you as his body pressed down against your own his smirk seemed to grow, like he knew you'd never get away, and he kept your wrists pinned above your head and held against the dirty, concrete floor.

He's almost enjoying this. The grin on his lips saying so. "Where do you think you're going?" He asks, his voice low and almost a growl as he keeps his grip on your wrists tight, not letting you escape. "You thought you could win?" He whispers, a low chuckle in his voice and it almost seems like he's enjoying keeping you trapped beneath his strong body.

You keep quiet. Ignoring his words, instead hoping that by arching your back, you'd push him away. Instead you just ending up firmly pressed against him. You could feel his heartbeat against yours. The tip of your chin grazed his. "You're relentless, just let go." You huff out, unaware of the very compromising position you're in.

"I'm relentless?" He asks, but there's a smile on his face as he looks down at you and almost seems to be enjoying the compromising position. "Aren't you the one still struggling on the ground?"

You let out an angry sigh, halting your movements as you grew tired. He's surprised when you stop struggling and grow quiet beneath him. Your arms still pinned down against the floor, his grip tight to make sure you couldn't escape but you stopped squirming beneath him, making it almost harder for him to keep himself from noticing how your body felt beneath his own

"Don't you wanna let me go?" You  speak quietly, breathlessly as you ask him to stop but you see the smile on his face grow again, a mischievous look in his eyes now as he looked down at you.

"Oh, but I'm enjoying this." he whispers as his eyes dance over your face. His body seems to tighten and push against yours, making it even harder for you to get away and you can feel his muscles tighten and make it almost impossible to move.

An idea comes to your mind. "You sure?" You manage to slip out the other leg that wasn't squished between his, and loop it around his waist.

"Very." His body seems to grow even hotter as your legs cradle his hip, wrapping around him. It's almost as if you can feel the muscles in his body tense from his reaction.

You let out a hum, your idea continuing as you lift your hips up, grinding your hips against his. His body tenses at the grind, his hands tight around your wrists as he keeps you pinned to the ground. You watch his body react, a quiet swear escaping his lips as he feels your hips grind against his crotch

"You just don't quit, do you?" He asks, although there's a groan in his voice as he tries to keep you in place.

"I don't know what you mean, Tyler." You smirk, hips moving harder. His body tensed with every movement you made, his eyes closed and his hands almost squeezing around your wrists as you felt his body react to your movements

"You're not trying to win." he mutters softly, his body still pressed against yours as he fought to keep himself from moaning at each movement of your hips against him.

"I'd never." You can hear the soft groan that gets almost caught in his throat as your hips continue to grind against his crotch and feel his body tense again, trying to keep his hold on your wrists while your legs wrapped around his waist

"God..." he growls softly, trying desperately to keep himself together as you keep moving against him. He opens his eyes again, his face almost in pain as you continue to grind against him, his body tensing again. "You should stop." He whispers again, almost a groan at the end of his words while he fights to keep himself in control and not let his body give into your teasing.

"Do you want me to?" He was only a man, his blood had rushed south against his will.

He closes his eyes again when you mention how you can feel him, his breath catching in his throat and you watch his entire body tense up again, almost as if the feeling of you grinding against him is almost too much for him to take.

His eyes stay closed and his body tense, the muscles of his arms flex like they're fighting to remain tight around your wrists as he almost groans in his throat. "I'm warning you," he whispers again, breathing heavily with each movement of your hips. "You keep this up and—."

"And what?" You tip your chin up, in challenge.

He opens his eyes again, his breathing heavy and a new look in his eyes as he looks down at you, his hands suddenly tighten around your wrist again and you watch his face change as he looks down at you, his body moving in reaction to yours

"And you'll see what you do to me." he whispers, his voice husky and a growl at the end of his words as he finally gives in to your teasing

"Then show me." All the other men in the room quieten down slowly, not understanding what's going on as you two keep your eyes locked to each other, his breath still heavy as you watch him look down at you

"You wanted to see?" He asks, a smirk growing on his face again as you watch the men around the circle begin to disperse and disappear, leaving only the two of you left alone in the warehouse

"If you're not scared."

"Scared?" He asks, almost a laugh in his voice as he looks at you. "I'm not scared of anything," he laughs and it almost sounds like a challenge as he grins down at you "And you?"

You shake your head. He grins now, his eyes slowly running over your body, at how you look with your legs wrapped around his hips and wrists pinned against the floor

"Why don't we put that to the test?" He asks, his voice almost mischievous as he eyes you slowly. You let a small smile grace your face as your hips raised against his, "I'm not going to give in as easily as you did..." he teases back as his hips push down against yours, almost pinning you down again as he pushes your wrists down into the floor again, making sure you're trapped. "Now you're going to see what you do to me." He grins, his breath heavy with anticipation and excitement as he looks down at you.

You gasp when you feel a hardness between your thighs as he ground his hips once more into you.

"You want me to stop?" He asks playfully, his face close and almost laughing as he looks down at you, his hips still grinding and pressing against yours and you feel his chest pressed against yours as he's pinning you down again.

You bite your lip, a small, barely noticeable shake of your head has him grinning like a wolf.

"I didn't think so," he whispered back, as he kept his eyes on you. "You don't really put up much of a resistance, you know that?" He asked, almost a tease in his voice as he continued to grind his hips against yours and you could feel everything as he kept you trapped beneath him.

"Shut up." you grit out, ignoring how you felt yourself ache and drool into your underwear.

"Is it getting to be too much for you?" He teases, the sound of his voice like honey as he watched your eyes flutter and close while he continued to press his hips against yours, his arms still holding your wrists against the floor as he made you feel his body against your own.

"No." your cheeks flared up at your voice, it held a tremor of a moan, one that had you biting your tongue. He smiles down at you again, the sound of your groan almost like music in Tyler's ears as he grinned above you, his body almost like a vice as he presses himself down against you and you can feel his pants tightening at the feeling of your body rubbing against him.

His eyes locked with yours as your mouth falls open and he can't take his eyes off of you

"You keep making those pretty noises and I'll keep making that pretty mouth do more than just speak." he teases with a smile across his face, his body continuing to press against yours while he watches each movement with hungry eyes.

Tyler got a bold lick of ambition, and let go of your wrists with one hand. He let his free hand barely graze your breasts and tummy before it found itself nestled on the apex of your thigh. He waited, waited for you to stop him, for you to struggle against his grip, for any sort of hesitation, but got none.

He can't help a smirk that forms on his face, leaning down and gently brushing his lips against yours, really waiting for a stop, before pulling back again to look at you with a smirk on his face, his fingers still wandering over and touching all your sensitive areas that makes you arch your back when he touches you. "You should really see you right now. God, what would your brother think?"

"Do you ever quit talking?" You spat.

"I mean, all this time you pretended to hate me. Me? Always bitchin' about me to me. But oh, sweetheart, you just wanted me all along," his voice was almost like a purr, it felt like a shuddering stroke against your core. He let out an amused chuckle. "And for the record, I don't quit."

His fingers shot to your clothed cunt, where he harshly dug, and twisted his fingers against your mound, against your puffy clit. This caused your hips to jerk and for a low groan to leave your lips.

His head jerked up and he threw a look over his shoulder. "Leave." He demanded. The other men who shamefully watched the ludicrous scene began to leave, Tyler didn't move until the last few perverted stragglers left.

Your wrists thrashed in his grip when you soon felt a warm feeling grow between your legs. "Will you let...go?" You gasped, referring to his vice grip.

"I dunno...What's in it for me?"

You groaned, both out of pleasure and frustration. "I don't know? Me?"

He chuckled at your attempt, your pathetic attempt. "Beg..." he whispers, his voice a low and almost menacing growl as he looks down at you, his breath heavy and his entire body still on fire as he looks down at you beneath him with your wrists still pinned down and his fingers gently trailing up and down your body.

Your eyes finds his, what was once a gunmetal blue was how to black holes, that swirled with desire and want, and looked like they could swallow you whole. "Please? I beg of you. Tyler, please?"

He looks down at you, almost in disbelief and not wanting to believe that you caved, but just as quickly as he stops himself to take in the fact that he was the one who pushed you to the edge and made you beg, he grins again with a dark twinkle in his eye. "Now that's a pretty thing to hear." he murmurs softly, lowering his voice and leaning closer to you again.

His breath is heavy as he lets go of one of your wrists and his fingers continue to rub against you as he watches you writhe with his touch and listen to your quiet, needy moans while his free hand helps keep him upright above you.

Your fingers flew to the hem of your pants, where you tugged ferociously. Tyler murmured something before his hands left you and grabbed your pants's hem and yanked, he yanked and tugged until they were off.

There's almost nothing gentle about his touches anymore as he gets more and more. His hands and fingers pull at your clothes, his touches almost greedy and needy as he pulls and pushes everything out of the way, almost needing you bare and exposed. His breath heavy and his own body tight and tensing, he reaches again and his fingers pull and push your clothes out of the way, almost not caring anymore if he rips something as he tries to make you bare so he can touch you.

His shirt is quick to follow, exposing his rigid muscles, glazed with sweat and bruises from fights before, and just now.

Almost immediately after, his fingers were back to massaging your clit, this time, he felt the tight bud against the pads of his fingers, he felt your wetness coat his fingers. Tyler allowed for his hand to slip, and for him to sink two digits into your sopping hole.

You whimpered at the stretch, feeling your walls cry in pain as he worked you open. You would have clamped your legs shut, but his were in the way. It took a few minutes for the pain to dissipate into raw pleasure. Your cunt squelched, the sound bouncing off the walls. "You hear that?" He asked, "She's so desperate for me, so wet, for me."

You moaned, unable to stop yourself as your hips gently rocked against his hand. With his other hand, Tyler yanked his pants down, just enough for his boxers to go with it, and for his cock to spring free.

He looks down at you, all that hard muscle and lean body exposed while he positions himself between your legs and looks down at you with a dark, feral look.

He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his lips and giving them one, hard suck before he spat on his hand, using it as lube as he phoned his cock. You peered up at his cock, pink tip and tan shaft, blonde, wiry but trimmed hair peeking sitting pretty at his base.

"You ready for me, baby?" He asked, his eyes trained on your fluttering cunt.

"Please?"

He shifted as much as he could on his knees, until they hit the plush of your ass. He leant forward, allowing for his leaky tip to press against your hole. He sunk his tip in, allowing for it to prepare for the stretch before he fed your cunt, his cock.

"Aw, fuck. She's tight." He moaned, it wasn't because you didn't want this, but because of how much you wanted it, that your pussy walls puffed up with arousal.

"Give it to me, Tyler." You whined, feeling full even at the initial thrust.

"Don't worry, baby. I won't hold back."

He moves his hips back, slow. Achingly slow before they snap, and you jerk, loud moan ripping from your throat. He almost loses control as he presses against you, his moves becoming sharper and harder with his need and want for you, his breath coming heavy and panting as he can't do anything but feel you against him.

He groans again with each movement and thrust you feel from him, his breath heavy and almost in his throat as he holds his weight on his arms while he keeps his eyes locked on yours, almost like he's hypnotised by you.

His lips meet yours and he moves with need and want, tasting of cigarettes and sweat, an unusual yet almost addictive combination as he pulls you closer to him while he keeps moving against you.

You slither your hands up his chest which find their way around his neck, he almost growls against your lips, the feeling and touch making him move and grind against you with more eagerness and need.

"Imagine your brother sees us, huh," Tyler chuckled breathlessly, his words almost playful and teasing even now as his breath is still heavy and he's almost panting against your mouth, a grin on his face and the movement between not slowing as his voice comes out in the form of a low groan at the thought of his best friend finding him and his sister in this position. "Imagine what he'd think."

"You're a real asshole." You manage to get out, feeling yourself go in and out of sub-space. Tyler groans out, the feeling of you tightening around him making his breath hitch and his heart hammer in his chest as he groans out again, his mouth trailing kisses along your jawline and down your neck as he moans out in pleasure.

"I think you'd like that. Like someone walking in and seeing this filth, hmm?" Tyler asked, with a wicked tone.

"N...No." you choke, but Tyler felt it. How you involuntarily clamped down on him, how your cunt squeezed him at his words. He barks a laugh, his hips never faltering. You ignore his cockiness, loosing the battle with care as you felt the coil in your lower belly tighten. "Mm, Tyler. I'm ‘bout to, I'm—!"

You don't get to finish your words as your orgasm slams into you, sending white, hot pleasure to surge through you as you scream. Toes curling and back arching.

As you come undone around him he suddenly stops moving, letting that moment of pure bliss wash over you before he lets out a low groan and his hips press closer to yours as he lets himself go as well, breath heavy against your neck and his body tensed as it comes to a release before his lips graze your neck and he breathes against the mark he left on your neck.

He slips out, you both whimper and whine at the loss of contact, his body almost weak and he looks down at you with a hint of a smile with a lazy expression on his face, the tension between them now loosened and the air between them light and almost easy after what just happened.

"Just, whatever you do, don't tell my brother."

As he helped you pull your pants back up, he looked at you with with a knowing smirk and a playful air in his voice, "I won't tell your brother, this can be our little secret." You nod, before standing up on shaky legs.

He stood up with you, a sense of ease between you and a lazy, cheeky smile on his face as he almost seemed pleased with himself. There was a look in his eyes that told you he wanted more, but he knew he couldn't push his luck right now.

"I don't suppose you'd have one of those smokes left on you, would you?" He asked, his voice light and playful as he reached out and placed a hand on your hip, pulling you in close next to him as he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You reach into your pocket and pull out the small box. He smiles as you hand him the cigarette box, pulling out a cigarette and bringing it to his lips and lighting it.

Then, he takes a drag, he blows out the smoke and looks at you with a satisfied smirk, "I could definitely get used to these little sessions of ours."

You roll your eyes. "I thought it was supposed to be a fight club."

He grins again, taking another drag before blowing out the smoke again and shrugging, "I suppose I just thought we could mix it up a little bit, keep things interesting. Besides, what fun is a fight club without a little bit of pleasure, right?"

"Do you do this with all new candidates?"

He smirks again, taking a puff from his cigarette before blowing out the smoke and shaking his head, "Only the feisty ones who make it worthwhile," he purrs, looking over at you with a twinkle in his eye. You let out an amused sound. "What's so funny?" He asks with a mischievous grin, blowing out the smoke before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close against him, his body against yours and his eyes fixed on you.

"Nothing."

"Don't go all shy on me now." he teases, nudging you playfully and taking another drag from the cigarette before blowing out the smoke, a playful and suggestive look in his eyes

You shake your head with a smile, dusting off your pants. "Whatever, Tyler. See you."

He grins again, taking one last drag before tossing the cigarette on the ground, stomping it out with his foot with a light chuckle, "See you around, sweetheart."

rewatched fight club (my fave) and I could not for the life of me stop staring at sweaty shirtless tyler

[joydoesathing]

what would happen if anatolii knew about this. What was Nacho thinking just running away was he that different compared to now

*cracks knuckles*

hoooooo boy, get ready cuz i got a whole character arc below

(again this is just my take on the story, so it's highly headcanonned)

"I'm sorry for running away. I'll make sure to make it up to you and your mother..."

nacho was more reckless back in his former years when he was first having a fling with frances. but when he did get her pregnant, he realized that he messed big time. realized that not only he's got a child on the way but has no means to provide for them both and isn't personally ready for big commitments like being a father or even getting married. why would he be? he was barely even 20. he never really thought that far ahead.

he didn't want to ask his parents for help. they'd definitely kill him if they figured out he got this girl they never met pregnant. he didn't also have the guts to tell frances the bad news.

his buddies at the time, who were just as reckless and short-sighted as he was, recommended that he could just... leave all that complicated and deep mess with frances behind him. just run away.

i mean he could do it. like him, frances probably wouldn't turn and complain to her parents first for help (for the same reason nacho wouldn't turn to his own parents for help) . his parents doesn't even know they had a fling together. even if she will become desperate enough to find them and try to turn to them for help, would they even accept her? let alone believe her?

"you wouldn't get in trouble. there's no one else that knows about it than you two."

" i mean, i'm sure she'll figure out something. she should know at least the basics."

that's what his buddies kept on assuring him. but even he could see that just up and deserting frances like that is just straight up cruel.

but was he in any room to still complain? it's not as if he had the resources nor the strong will to commit and face the heavy consequences of his actions.

and with that, he ran off but wracked with the small feeling of guilt.

while he tried having his new start, that feeling of guilt just grew bigger and bigger and started eating away at his conscience. he kept on trying to deny and delude himself with the words of his buddies, but it did nothing to stop that guilt completely.

it made him finally see that he's nothing more than a dirty dog running with its tail between its legs. a jerk and a coward. he had a feeling that he was going to have his comeuppance and it wasn't going to be pretty.

and so it did, a year and a half after he ran. his partner, depressed and completely driven to madness , tracked him down and almost murdered him in a psychotic rage.

he was forced to see the result of his cowardice and neglect. he didn't blame frances for doing that. who wouldn't go mad if they've been abandoned by someone who thought they could trust?

after she was stopped, he decided not to press charges on frances , although that didn't stop her from still getting institutionalized. being incapable to care for her child, nacho finally decided to man up and take his and frances' child up as his own and take raise him.

he knew that it's such a scummy thing to do. to just NOW take up the responsibility when everything was blown out of proportion. but he decided to not run away now, just because of that. his son needed a parent more than anything else now.

as he went on raising anatolii, he felt that he had absolutely nothing to be praised for. unknowing people says: "you're such a strong man, raising a son all by yourself."

he just did what he should have done from the start. right now, he takes care of his son wholeheartedly as an act of repentance, for both frances and anatolii. to show that he's truly sorry for being the coward he is.

for now, nacho is keeping the truth the whole mess between him and frances well-kept from anatolii. the only thing that anatolii does know about his mom is that she's alive but never drops by to visit due to some "personal problems and conflicts". but nacho always assures him that his mother loves him no matter what.

[casino-lights]

King Alistair vs Warden Alistair discourse always seems to resurface, like all of the other character-centric discourse, with each resurgence of the dragon age fandom. fandom veterans are probably tired of this by now, but since a lot of new people are playing origins and the old arguments about players making Bad Choices in this rpg are getting rehashed, here's my two cents on this topic in particular. 

I was watching my girlfriend play through some of the early levels in origins when I suddenly had a lot of thoughts about Alistair and she encouraged me to share them. throughout his introduction and his subsequent role in Ostagar and the Wilds, we see Alistair being quick-witted and snappy with his humor, but also very focused and dutiful. we see him being (mostly) respectful and polite, but also fairly confident and surprisingly authoritative considering his behavior later in the game. Alistair is comfortable here in Ostagar, and he's comfortable as a Warden not only under Duncan's command, but also over these new recruits. he doesn't shy away from his role as a mentor, the one who's supposed to show everyone the ropes and keep them on task and on schedule. he kindly yet firmly puts Jory back on track when he stumbles, he takes charge when he finds out the Tower of Ishal has been overrun, and he displays thorough knowledge of both the plan and the original expectations of what would be found in the tower. he's also knowledgeable about Blights and some Warden history, and he takes it upon himself to inform Duncan of Morrigan and Flemeth instead of just letting the player talk like he does later on.

speaking of that scene, Duncan is a bit firm but not angry or mean when he says he tells Alistair not to focus on the fact that Morrigan and Flemeth are likely apostates. he tells Alistair in no uncertain terms that this is not his concern and he needs to return his attention to the task at hand. this is not dissimilar from the way the player can later tell Alistair that people are taking advantage of him and he needs to make sure he's standing up for himself, but I'll get into this more a bit later.

what I'm trying to get at is that when we meet Alistair, he's a little closer to his hardened self than to the chronically unserious and incompetent manchild that Morrigan, DA2 and Inquisition, and some parts of this fandom treat him as. post-Ostagar, even Alistair himself seems to see himself as some class clown who can't do anything right, and characters like Wynne enable this by treating him like an ACTUAL child. while Alistair is almost certainly young, he has already proven shortly after meeting him that he's not even remotely stupid and he can obviously take care of himself. Duncan refers to the player, Jory, and Daveth as Alistair's "charges," showing that Duncan clearly trusts Alistair with a lot of responsibility and the safety and guidance of three strangers. he is far from stupid, he's far from childish, and he's obviously a layered character.

this has been said countless times before but a big problem in every fandom is the slow reduction of characters to one or two notable traits, and Alistair is no exception. I have a theory as to why. we know Duncan's death affected him deeply, but I don't think that alone explains his sudden switch from respecting the player while continuing to guide them and share responsibility as the senior Warden to almost blindly letting them lead him around and acting like if he led for five minutes they'd all die horrible deaths because he's just that incompetent. I think that during the time the player was unconscious in Flemeth's house, Alistair experienced an offscreen breakdown where he retreated behind desperate attempts at humor and making himself seem dumber and sillier to appear less competent in the hopes that someone else would be in charge so he didn't have to. if you think back to what age he was when he last experienced such a sudden, tumultuous, confusing loss of stability, routine, community, and a father figure - Eamon sending him to the Chantry as a child - you might even consider this to be a form of partial age regression. when we see him outside Flemeth's hut, he pleads with the player to not abandon him because he doesn't know what they should do or where they should go. he hasn't had this lack of direction ever since he was sent to the Chantry because after that, they dictated his life until Duncan recruited him and then the Wardens dictated his life. he's terrified and tired and grieving, and he begs us to make the decisions and help him figure out what to do. 

Morrigan gives him some shit for being quiet and sad, and he snaps at her, but otherwise we don't see a lot of that confidence and willingness to stand up for himself after this. I don't often play a character who is openly mean to any of their companions, so I don't really take any of the more dismissive dialogue options toward Alistair, but he's obviously hiding behind his humor and trying to make himself seem insignificant. in one line he even jokes that he'd hide behind his shield instead of his humor but the player would see him behind it. I think he really does just wish he could hide and grieve on his own and wait for someone else to give him a purpose again, and I think that if we actually saw the process of this breakdown from his more comfortable, confident, capable self into the Alistair we get post-Ostagar and pre-Goldanna, fewer people might be coddling Alistair and enabling this unhealthy coping mechanism. I wish the dialogue options to harden him were a bit kinder, but as we saw, Duncan was willing to tell it to Alistair straight up, and maybe that's the directness he needed from the player too. maybe Alistair needed to be told in no uncertain terms, by someone he respects and trusts, that most people he interacts with have some kind of ulterior motive and he needs to be more aware of this and stand up for himself and his beliefs. once he understands this, we can see him shift from reluctantly taking on the role of king because you and Eamon think it would be best to taking on the role of king because he understands it would be best.

bioware basically canonized this firmer, more responsible version of Alistair in their comics and even during some parts of Inquisition. we know King Alistair is their canon, but even though he shows some uncertainty about his ability to be King, we don't see any unwillingness. yet bioware also made the unfathomable decision to simultaneously show Alistair being a confident, capable king and then immediately fuck that growth up by having him look like a bumbling idiot who still doodles on royal documents at the fair age of thirty-something and still doesn't know how dictating a letter works after ten years of ruling Ferelden. they somehow invalidated both of his paths in origins at the same time, and perhaps most frustratingly, they just won't let go of the "swooping is bad" style of writing for him. let him grow. let him be as competent and brave and determined as he is in your comics. his progress has been so inconsistent it's painful.

if it wasn't already obvious, I think the best path for Alistair as a character is to harden him and make him king. he just doesn't get to prove himself as a Warden as much as he does when he's king. he's mostly alone, he doesn't seem to have a great rapport with other Wardens outside of his renown as one of the heroes of the Blight, and he just acts tangibly sadder. this could be because of the fake Calling, sure, but if he was still joking around with us during an actual Blight, I don't see why this event would have him this drained of personality and life, especially because he knows that this is not the real Calling. his line when he's left in the Fade - "tell Morrigan... tell her I just stood there looking foolish" - is another testament to the fact that he has not grown at all from his self-deprecating humor and he still hasn't come to see himself as capable and worthy of respect. we don't get to see enough of him as king, but from what little we get he seems to be wielding his power and authority well, and he's an incredibly well-respected and well-loved king. especially with Anora or a Cousland queen at his side, he's brave, commanding, and - just like he was back in Ostagar - he seems COMFORTABLE. he knows what he's doing, he sees his worth and accepts it, and he's more than willing to be firm and tell Fiona in no uncertain terms that Ferelden will not tolerate the events in Redcliffe. he's taking command and he's leading and protecting his charges, even though they're a lot more than just three Warden recruits this time. 

on a personal note, as someone who has dealt with mental health challenges, tough love from someone I respect and trust actually really helped me and I wouldn't be where I am without the occasional "you need to snap out of it." I'm not saying it's best for all scenarios, but I have experienced this firsthand. Alistair hiding from his responsibilities because they're overwhelming and he's terrified does resonate with me, but so does him actually healing a bit more and becoming more confident when someone shows him that they know he's better than this and he just needs to act like it. 

lastly, I think it's important to clarify that I don't believe anyone is playing any rpg the Wrong Way, regardless of what bioware made canon in their comics and other external media. I also think it's stupid to try and say ANY choice or route is inherently right or wrong, and every player is entitled to their opinion and preference. choices made in role playing games are usually done for the sake of playing a role, immersing oneself, and/or exploring the game's full library of content. as I said, I personally find hardened King Alistair with Queen Cousland to be the most satisfying version of his character arc, but I don't mean any of this to shame anyone if they choose or believe otherwise. no hate is intended, so don't purposefully misunderstand or misinterpret my words. no offense is intended if you just prefer one of Alistair's storylines or character arcs over the other. full offense is intended if you're the kind of person who bullies, shades, or otherwise belittles people who don't agree with your super special headcanons because you need to be the most correct player in the fandom.

thanks to everyone who isn't one of those people for reading all this <3

[steddieas-shegoes]

read my lips

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is staring at his lips when he talks'

rated m | 1,799 words | cw: suggestive language, implied sexual content | tags: mutual pining, getting together, first kiss, platonic stobin

👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄

"Steve? Earth to Steve." Robin waved her hand in front of his face, successfully pulling him out of the daydream he'd been in for who knows how long. "He walked away nearly two minutes ago. You gotta get your shit together, man."

Steve looked around, trying to find where Eddie went. He'd been talking to them both about a show his band was invited to perform in a few towns over in a couple weeks. Steve was listening to him go on about trying to buy a set of special edition picks at the record shop they'd be performing in when he got distracted by the way Eddie's lips kept smirking around his words.

The scarring along his cheek made his smile more crooked than it was before the bats, and Steve couldn't stop staring.

Not for the reasons strangers on the street would, not even in the way that Dustin or Wayne sometimes looked at him, like they were still upset at the way the world turned against Eddie.

No, this was entirely because every time Steve started to watch Eddie talk, he got distracted thinking about those lips on his. This time it was way less work appropriate.

He turned to Robin and groaned.

"God, this is bad."

"You don't say." Robin set a stack of tapes on the counter next to Steve. "All these still need to be checked in. Then you can go get distracted by thoughts of Eddie's lips on your neck or whatever."

"If only it had been my neck," Steve mumbled as Robin started humming loud enough to drown him out.

"Stevie, you work too hard," Eddie's voice said from right behind him only a minute later. "You should take a break."

"I just had my lunch 30 minutes ago. I can't take another break," Steve refused to make eye contact, refused to get captured by that sinful smile.

Eddie's hand landed on his shoulder. "Aren't you the one in charge right now?"

"You think I'm over Robin?"

"I think you think you're over Robin. And that should be enough. Just sneak away. She won't even notice. Look, she's yelling at a kid in the corner," Eddie poked him to get him to turn around and look. "Poor kid probably didn't think anyone who worked here cared if he snuck into the R section."

Steve finally turned around and let out a snort. "That's the third time that kid's tried to get back there in a week. He's just an idiot."

"Well...she's distracted. There's no other customers. Take a break!" Eddie was grinning at him and Steve was already under his spell.

"Fine, but only a few minutes. She'll be pissed if I leave her to do all the rewinding and shelving," Steve agreed because he had to.

Because Eddie was looking at him like he was up to something and he wanted Steve to be up to something with him. Because he'd do anything that made Eddie's crooked smile bigger, anything to hear him let out that giggle he tried to hide when he was being mischievous.

Eddie tugged on his arm and pulled him out from behind the counter, holding a finger to his lips to shush him when he started to tell him to stop.

He led him to the back office, which was usually locked if Keith wasn't in, but had been left unlocked the last two shifts because Robin was in charge of closing out the registers.

"I know for a fact you shouldn't be in here. I'm barely even allowed in here," Steve whispered.

"No one will know," Eddie said as he sat on the edge of the cluttered desk. "It's not like Family Video is stashing away government secrets."

"I said the same thing about Scoops Ahoy and then got tortured by Russians, so I'd watch what you say."

Eddie's smile dropped for a moment.

Steve had never gone into details and Robin had just shrugged it off when Eddie asked her about it. She said she was grateful she had Steve through it all and that was that.

"Do you suspect Russians might be hiding under Family Video?" Eddie eventually asked. "If so, I think we should head out. I'll get our coats."

Steve shook his head. "Nah. Think the Russians got the hell out of Hawkins after Starcourt."

"Good. Wouldn't wanna have to deal with Russian torture trauma on top of all the bats and being stuck in the Upside Down for days trauma," Eddie snorted. "So, what're you doin' after work today?"

"Uh." Steve admittedly didn't hear most of what Eddie said. He was too busy watching his lips form around words. "Hm?"

Eddie's smile fell. "I asked what you're doing after work. Are you okay? You seem kinda out of it today."

"Yep, I'm fine. Might just be getting a migraine or something." Steve looked down at the floor to try to concentrate. "I'm probably just gonna heat up some leftovers from movie night last night and shower and go to bed."

"You want company?" Eddie asked.

Steve felt his heart stop. "In the shower?"

He looked up at Eddie, that perfect smile growing on his face.

"I meant for dinner or just to hang out, but if you need help in the shower, I could probably arrange that," Eddie was teasing. He was kidding. He had to be. Right?

“I’m…I don’t-“

“Don’t hurt yourself, Stevie,” Eddie laughed. “Offer’s there if you want it.”

Steve was too busy staring at Eddie’s tongue licking his bottom lip, imagining that tongue licking along his bottom lip.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie whispered.

“Hm?”

“You know, I started wearing chapstick and waited for you to finally give in.” Eddie’s lip quirked up. “But you haven’t done anything except stare. You gonna do something?”

“Do what?” Steve was clueless as to what he was talking about.

“You gonna see if they taste as good as they look?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Kiss me, Harrington. You gonna do it or not?” Eddie sighed.

“I-“

“It’s alright. Been waiting for weeks now. You wanna?” Eddie didn’t move from the desk. “Not sure they’re gonna be as great as you seem to be picturing every time I talk, but hopefully they aren’t a complete disappointment.”

Steve kinda figured he should go ahead and kiss him before he started to get lost in his own world again.

He stepped up to Eddie, watching as his face shifted from amused to anticipatory. Steve’s hand rested on Eddie’s knee, mostly to help keep his balance.

He was feeling a little lightheaded with the recent development.

“You really want me to kiss you?” Steve asked as he leaned in, resting his forehead against Eddie’s.

“Yeah, I really do.”

Steve watched his lips the entire time, enamored with the way every part of his mouth enunciated every word. Everything felt important when Eddie said it.

He tasted and felt better than he looked, especially when his hands came up to cup the sides of Steve’s neck, fingers scratching at the roots of his long hair.

Steve whined into his mouth, sinking against him as Eddie took control and deepened the kiss.

“You’re both lucky I’m willing to pretend that I’m not seeing what I’m seeing and that I’m willing to close this door and leave you alone for ten minutes. Mostly because I was so tired of Steve losing every remaining brain cell anytime Eddie talked.” Robin’s voice filtered through the small office, causing Steve and Eddie to pull apart quickly, both wiping at their mouths. “Ten minutes. Not a second more. Pants stay on. Got it?”

“Got it,” Eddie agreed.

“And hands stay out of pants!” Robin said as she closed the door.

“Dammit,” Eddie sighed.

“Ten minutes is long enough to make out,” Steve tried to suggest, leaning in to kiss him again.

“Ten minutes is long enough for a lot of things. Tell me where you want my lips.”

It would be rude teasing from anyone else, but from Eddie, it just made Steve feel seen.

“Anywhere. Everywhere. Wherever you want them,” Steve gasped out, still feeling like he might be dreaming.

“So you’d be okay with them…here?” Eddie whispered against his neck, soft presses of his lips against his skin. “Or here?” Steve’s shirt was pulled to the side for Eddie to suck a bruise into the crook of his neck. “Or maybe here?” Eddie’s hand pressed against his half-hard cock on his jeans. “Oh, sweetheart. Had no idea you’d be so ready for me.”

“Yes, you did,” Steve argued.

“You’re right. But it’s still nice to see and feel. Maybe I could taste?” Eddie asked as his hand wandered along his waist line.

“N-now?” Steve stuttered out.

“I have-“ Eddie checked his watch. “About eight minutes. I could get you off.”

“With your mouth?”

“Well, yeah. We can’t make a mess, can we? This is your place of employment, Stevie. And it’s a bitch getting cum out of a carpet like this.”

“You know from experience?”

Eddie dropped to his knees. "I made an educated guess. So. Mouth. Yes or no?"

"Yes," Steve replied, unbuttoning his own pants. "Jesus, yes."

Eddie's mouth was even better than Steve's imagination gave him credit for. They only need three of the minutes they had for Steve to finish, and another two minutes of Steve's hand working Eddie over for him to finish, too.

"You could've said something sooner," Eddie said as he tried to fix his hair. "Or just kissed me one of those times you were trying to stare through my lips."

"I didn't think I was being that obvious before today," Steve said as he tucked his shirt back into his pants and slid his vest back on.

"Sweetheart, you've been obvious since day one. I've just been waiting for you to realize that you needed to make a move," Eddie crowded him against the desk, hands on his hips and a playful smile on his face.

Steve watched his lips the entire time.

"Like that," Eddie continued, raising a finger to trace along Steve's lips. "You watch them when you don't even realize you are."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Stevie. Love it," Eddie kissed the corner of his mouth before stepping back. "You better get back before Robin comes in here and glares at us until we catch on fire or something."

"You comin' over after I get off?"

"You just got off," Eddie joked. "But yes. As long as I can actually help you in the shower."

"Help me? Or distract me?"

"It can be both!" Eddie opened the door and held it for Steve to go through. "I'll take care of you."

Steve smiled to himself as he walked away. "I'm sure you will."

[suzukiblu]

excerpt from the one where Clark is trans and Kon isn't, but no one actually knows this:

Cadmus didn't know Superman was a trans man before they stole his dead body, but considering how many total assholes were on staff at the time they were surprisingly respectful of his gender identity. Not so much his bodily autonomy or his DNA or his potential feelings about being cloned against his will, but like, they used his preferred pronouns and whatever. 

So like . . . diversity win, Kon guesses? Or . . . whatever that'd be? 

So when they made . . . him . . . 

Kon got educated and socialized as male, when they made him. They called him "he" and "him", at least when they weren't calling him "it". They couldn't figure out how to synthesize effective hormone treatments for half-Kryptonian genes, but they had plans for surgeries they were gonna do when he was physically mature enough. Like–before the yellow sunlight could really kick in, effects-wise. Apparently they tried just tweaking the sex on a few earlier models, but by the time they got to Experiment Thirteen, they'd figured out that they couldn't work out what an actual AMAB Kryptonian's genes should look like and had just planned for the surgeries. 

Kon's not really sure how to take that. Like . . . is it good that they wanted him to be comfortable in his body? That they cared about what the fuck he'd want to look like? 

Or is it bad that they didn't ask him if he'd even want any of that? 

Kon wears a binder and a packer and acts like he thinks boys are supposed to act, tries to take charge and be tough and be confident and hit on pretty girls and not look at pretty guys, and Kal tells him he doesn't have to try so hard. Tells him to just act natural. Kon doesn't know how to do that, though. 

Acting "natural" would be . . . 

Acting natural would be a problem. 

Cissie has really long hair. Sometimes Kon watches how it moves and pretends to be checking her out when she catches him. Like the same way he pretends that he's perving on her ass when he's actually looking at the swish of her skirt, or that he's making eyes at her tits when he's really just wondering what his own would look like without the binder that he wears . . . more than he's supposed to, to be honest. 

Serling gets on his ass about it when he forgets to take it off every eight hours. She's working on synthesizing actual hybrid hormones for him, she says, but it's technically a backburner project right now because everything is always on fire and the world keeps trying to end in increasingly ludicrous ways. 

Which, well–he appreciates it, really, but that'd all be more helpful if he was actually "forgetting" to take the binder off, and if he wasn't terrified that she's actually gonna manage those hormones someday. Serling's, like, a crazy genius, after all. She might be able to pull that off. 

But Kon doesn't want the hormones. Doesn't want the surgeries he's been told Cadmus will give him as soon as he's physically mature enough. Doesn't want . . . 

Kon doesn't actually hate his body, is the thing. He doesn't feel bad or weird in it. He kind of just . . . he likes it the way it is. He doesn't even want to wear the binder or the packer, honestly. 

Literally every single fucking person who knows he’s trans has been respectful about it and has given him everything he could ever need to present as male and never, ever said anything to belittle or question his gender or his right to consider himself a man or even slipped up with his pronouns or anything. Even fucking Westfield never said anything shitty to him about it, for fuck's sake. Fucking Westfield, of all people! 

Which would all be great and good and very fucking validating, if Kon weren't fucking cis. 

There is something extremely, extremely bullshit about the fact that Kon is getting all the acceptance and support and medical care that every actual trans person deserves without even asking for or needing it. But she has no idea how to tell anyone that she's not what they think she is. Or who. Or . . .

Seriously, who else's life has ever been weird enough that they'd need to come out as cisgender? Like, who else ever?

Young Justice thinks Kon's a cis guy. The public thinks she's a cis guy. The superhero and supervillain communities both think she's a cis guy, except for the handful of people that know about Kal not being one, and even most of Cadmus does, depending on clearance levels and whatever. Tana and Roxy and fucking Knockout all thought she was a cis guy, even. Robin might "know" she's actually a trans one, being a Bat and all, but he's never said anything that's made her think he might.

Hell, the fucking Agenda doesn't even "misgender" her.

So everyone who knows has been absolutely fucking great and respectful about it and otherwise Kon passes fucking perfectly, and no one's ever once looked at her as anything but a guy. Anything but Superboy.

Except all Kon wants is for someone to look at her and see a girl. To see Supergirl.

So she doesn't really like to talk to Kara when she doesn't have to.

Or . . . ever, really.

Unfortunately, right now they kinda do have to talk.

"Well, your evil twin remains evil, no surprise," Kara says with a sigh, eyeing the walls of the containment cell that the Agenda has stuffed them into and is for some inexplicable bullshit reason slowly filling with water, who even fucking knows why. There's gotta be faster ways to kill them, especially considering Kon isn't even sure how much Kara needs to breathe at all. Like, she definitely does? But as for Kara, who knows. "Match is the worst possible version of a Superboy, I swear to Rao."

Kon has the weird urge to snap about how maybe Match isn't a boy and has anyone even asked?

No one ever asked her, for fucking sure. She didn't even know she wasn't a boy for way too long. Everybody'd always told her that she was, after all, and she'd just thought it'd felt weird to get called a boy because she wasn't a fucking little kid, she was Superman, or because she was trans and like, felt fake about her gender because she'd somehow accidentally internalized some stupid bullshit, or because of any number of other reasons that would've all made perfect sense and had all turned out to be perfectly wrong.

So yeah. Kon does kinda identify with the trans experience, ironically enough.

"Yeah, Match is usually a pain in the ass," she says instead of telling Kara how much she fucking hates her for getting to be what she can't, then starts looking for a way out of the stupid containment cell. It's not Kara's fault Kon hates her, for one thing, and also she doesn't wanna die here. Like, she definitely doesn't.

She wonders if Match might have reacted to her differently, if when they'd first met she'd known enough to ask if they were sisters.

Probably not, whether they're sisters or not. Match still seems pretty married to "I don't have free will" as a coping mechanism for all the psychological damage that being cloned and force-grown and told your only value and entire reason for existence lies in replacing someone who doesn't actually need to be replaced, it seems like.

Not that Kon would know anything about that, obviously.

Like, why would she?

She feels along the walls with her TTK and finds a frustrating lack of structural vulnerabilities to exploit. Kara punches them a few times, though they've already tried that. Kon doesn't blame her, at this point. The water keeps steadily pouring in and makes its way up to their thighs.

It is not reassuring. Like, at all.

Kon is gonna be so annoyed if she dies and gets buried as Superboy.

Though she was always going to do that, wasn't she. Best case scenario might've gotten her to Superman, maybe, but . . . yeah.

What else was she ever gonna do?

Cadmus made her to be Superman. Kal told her she could be Superboy, and named her after a boy, and named her like a Kryptonian boy would've been.

Although she guesses to have a femme-style Kryptonian name, she'd have needed to have a father.

She wonders if Kal would've named her at all, if he would've had to give her a name with a father's name attached to it. Maybe he would've just gone with Jor-El's, since technically Jor-El is the paternal donor of her Kryptonian DNA.

Or maybe he would've gone with . . .

Kon stops thinking about stupid shit she knows better than to be thinking about and feels out with her TTK again.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

solo round

pairing: josh futturman x f!reader

summary: josh is sick of meaningless charging, but instead of asking out the pretty, new game store cashier, he decides to take matters into his own hands. again.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, set post-dick swap, m!masturbation, size kink, fantasizing, sexual frustration, unprotected piv, excessive lube

word count: 1.5k

(for our tiny fandom <3 and @tinycozycomfort)

Seriously, are they doing this shit on purpose? This is the third time today he's overheard them going at it, and Josh swears they're getting louder every time.

He gets that things are stressful right now—he's stressed as fuck, too—but if he has to listen to Tiger and Wolf charging up one more time, he thinks he's going to scream. It's bad enough that they're staying in the room next to his, but they also have no concept of privacy. Or shame. Half the time, they start up right in front of him.

They genuinely just don't give a shit. And the last time he yelled at them to keep it down, he got teased mercilessly for days. Sounds like someone needs to get laid, they'd said. Or you can join us as long as you keep your rathole to yourself.

Assholes. He'd rather die of blue balls than fuck either of them at this point. But they're not wrong. It's been a long time since he was with anyone, way longer than he'll ever admit, and he's starting to lose it. He's also pretty sure he's getting carpal tunnel in his right wrist, and his dick feels like it might actually fall off if he jerks off again.

It only makes things worse anyway because all he can think about is you. The new girl who just started working at the game store—totally unattainable and way out of his league. Still doesn't stop him from imagining how nice your boobs would feel in his hands or how wet and tight you'd feel around him, moaning his name loud enough to drown out his shitty teammates—

Fuck it. If his dick falls off, maybe he'll get lucky and that'll solve his problem. He yanks his jeans down to his ankles before he can talk himself out of it, and his toes practically curl the second his fingers wrap around his dick.

The first stroke almost hurts, but he's so desperate for relief, he ignores it. Instead, he plays out his favorite scenario in his head, the one where you're riding him on the same gaming chair he's sitting in.

His hands are on your waist, guiding you up and down his cock while your tits bounce in his face, and they're as perfect in his mind as they are in real life. He leans forward to latch onto a nipple and teases it between his teeth until he can feel you clenching around him.

Fuck, that's good. You're so fucking wet, and...and his hand is way too dry for this right now. He lets out a frustrated sigh before getting up and waddling over to his bedside table, rifling through the drawers for the ancient bottle of lube he knows is hiding in there somewhere.

He'll take literally anything, honestly—those random packets he got from work that are technically for the possums, that weird scented lotion his mom gave him—but then his fingers close around the sticky container he's looking for, and he's back in his chair so fast, he's surprised he doesn't tip it over. Hastily, he squeezes way too much lube into his palm and starts pumping himself again.

Now, where was he? Oh right—you're so fucking wet. He's sliding in and out of you easily, even though you're so tight, it almost feels like you're strangling him. Especially with his new dick.

At first, he was worried it might be too big, but you're a fucking champ. You take it slow, guiding him to play with your pussy until you're less tense, and now he's buried to the hilt and fighting not to buck too hard.

He can see how much he's stretching you out and feels a little bad that you're still struggling to adjust—and that he's having trouble focusing on anything else but the way he looks inside you. But as you purposely clench around him, he realizes you like the pain. A lot.

God, you're hot.

And he's starting to sweat big time. His shirt clings to him uncomfortably in about six different places, but he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to block it out with dirtier thoughts of you. Just a little bit more—he'll be close soon, he knows it.

Tightening his grip, he lengthens his strokes to match what he imagines your pussy would feel like in this moment and pretends it's you clenching around him and not just his aching right hand.

That you're swiveling your hips to meet his thrusts, teasingly biting your lip when he takes that as the go-ahead to move a little faster. Fuck, he wants to kiss you so badly. And now is probably his only chance, real or imaginary.

He lurches forward and immediately sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, swallowing every moan he fucks out of you. His hands roam every inch of bare skin he can reach, squeezing your tits together so he can thumb over your hardened nipples and feel your plush skin spilling between his fingers.

The longer he caresses and grabs and tugs, the louder you get, and he's loving every second of it. Finally, it's his turn to bother everyone else in the house—except he doesn't realize that outside of his head, he's already bothering everyone, a whimpering mess all alone in his bedroom.

But he's too focused on his impending release to notice. You're gripping him so tight and starting to grind into his pelvis, chasing your own high, and he can feel you fluttering dangerously around him. He wants you to cum before he does, but god, he's so deep and so fucking close, it's making him dizzy.

Back in the real world, he focuses closer to the base, making a huge mess of lube and precum on his lap as he tries to stave off his orgasm and drive you closer to yours.

He wraps his arms around your middle and starts to piston into you, and when you gasp out his name, he knows he found the spot he was looking for. Losing his grip on reality entirely, he coaxes you through it out loud like you're actually there, riding him like your life depends on it.

"You're doing so good, almost there," he says encouragingly, gazing up at you in awe and disbelief. You're so pretty like this, and the way you moan his name every time he rams into that spot—he needs you to say it louder.

"That's it, baby. Say my name, let me hear it."

And you're so good, you do exactly what he tells you to. He shifts his hands down to your ass to hold you in place so he can grind directly into where you want him. He's so fucking deep, he's positive he has to be in your stomach. And just the thought of it makes his balls draw up so tight, he sees stars.

"Shit, I'm not gonna last much longer."

Cum, Joshy. Your walls spasm around him violently, and that's all it takes to finally tip him over the edge.

"Jesus fucking christ—oh my god. Fully charged in 3...2...," he barely finishes the countdown before he's cumming hard into his fist—no, filling you up and letting you milk him for all he's worth.

He vaguely feels the splatter staining his t-shirt, and a few spurts are so strong, they reach up to his chin. He gasps his way through it, bucking so hard that the wheels on his chair unlock and it rolls backward until it slams into his bed.

Abruptly, Josh is thrown back into the present. And that really sucks.

What the actual fuck just happened? Obviously, he remembers—he was there—but seriously. What the fuck. His hand is covered in cum, his jeans are covered in cum, his shirt is...god, it's on his face, too. He even did the fucking countdown.

Alright, fine. Maybe they're right. Maybe he does need to get a girlfriend. He's tenser than he was when he started, so clearly this isn't working.

And as much as he could probably use it, he still refuses to fuck Tiger or Wolf. The sex is good, sure, but it's not worth his pride. Plus, they were mean to him and he's still not over it.

They're also not you.

He sighs heavily and sinks into his chair, resisting the urge to scrub at his cheek in frustration and smear even more cum on his face. Tomorrow, he resolves. Tomorrow, he's walking into the game store and asking you out.

So, he does. And you say yes.

thanks for reading!

header by @saradika-graphics

[tsuyoiqueen]

Peaceful Property EP 6 Analysis: Why Didn't Peach Take The Money

Alright, I've seen a lot of criticism towards Peach's decision not to take the money offered by Home's family lawyer to buy his silence and do damage control after the footage of the accident got leaked. Now, I'm all about bashing GMMTV for their mistreatment of TayNew and other actors under their label, as well as for their lazy storylines and plot holes on the final episodes of their shows, but for once I don't think you guys are seeing the whole picture. Yes, GMMTV is notoriously bad at depicting poor characters, but Peach's decision is not out of pocket. It's actually very characteristic of him and the progression of his friendship with Home.

Hear me out: First, in the beginning of the series, we see Peach and Home fight about money many times – From Home accusing Peach of trying to sabotage his Real State business by faking a paranormal event in Best's house for the sake of going viral to Home later on trying to hire Peach to exorcise said properties even though they'd just met.

Peach sees Home as a spoiled, privileged rich kid who was raised to believe money could buy anything. This conflict is explicitly shown on Episode 2, during Rak's exorcism when Home repeatedly attempts to buy his way out of a bad situation and Peach confronts him about it. First, when Home makes fun of Peach's attempt at making Rak a sandwich based on the manager's instructions and questions his abilities, then buys a feast for the ghost after Peach quits the job, arguing that she must've refused to pass on because the food wasn't to her liking. The second time it happened it's a more pronounced attempt, with Home slapping a pile of cash on the table during the commotion and Peach becoming outraged at it.

But this conflict is brought to light again, on Episode 3, when Peach and PangPang sign the ghost-hunting contract and Kan tells them they've essentially sold their souls to Home in exchange for a paycheck, as they need to heed all of his orders from now, which Home takes full advantage of right away. Now, PangPang is fine with the deal – as she's been since the start. She was the one who got Peach to agree to the exorcisms in the first place and it was her idea to go to Home and ask if he could lend them one of his properties. As long as there's something good coming out of it, she doesn't mind. Peach, however, is reluctant to agree to Home's unreasonable requests but eventually caves in and swallows his pride.

Yet, on Episode 5, we see him once again stand his ground. It doesn't matter that Home will cut his paycheck, he refuses to go back into the restaurant where his former mentor passed away (seemingly by his fault). Home has to push him to the brink, remind Peach of his current living situation – He has no place to stay in, he's sleeping under Home's roof – and consequently hurt him to convince him.

But by the end of Episode 5, Peach knows Home never cared about the money or intended to demolish the restaurant to build a 50 million baht condo out of it. Home confesses to Peach that he only acted the way he did because he knew Peach wouldn't have come otherwise and he really wanted to help Peach overcome his fear. So when Episode 6 rolls around, money is no longer a point of conflict in their friendship, right? Wrong.

Money (as well as influence) is the reason why Home is able to make Peach's dream come true in a heartbeat, after barely a day of knowing about it. He does it in grand style, in a palace, with cameras broadcasting it live and even getting Peach a do-over with Chai-Un as a bonus. But Peach doesn't feel like he owes Home, like he has to bend to his will, anymore because he knows where they stand now: they're family and family looks out for each other. Peach knows Home went through all this effort to make him happy and he rewards Home with his full trust. First, by leaving him on charge of the trickiest part of the dish that could ruin his career all over again. And second, by showing his gratitude and considering Home part of his and PangPang's family (They're the parents and Pang's the baby, as said by her).

So, he asks about Home's dream and when he realizes it's something that he can give him, Peach doesn't hesitate to do so. Home, who's grown up in a mansion, never had to fry an egg or find a job to survive, simply craves the love and comfort of a family and Peach welcomes him wholly.

So, then I ask you, why would Peach refuse the money Home's family lawyer offered him and give back what he got from the exorcisms? Well, the moment Peach found out (or rather assumed) that Home had been lying to him all this time, their friendship left a sour taste in his mouth. What Peach was led to believe Home had done out of care had turned out to be just an attempt at relieving himself of the guilt of the hit-and-run situation. Peach could be thinking Home sought him out on purpose with ulterior motives from the start, that it was all a game to him.

That only escalates once Home's family lawyer, and not Home himself, walks in with yet another contract for him to sign and an order of eviction. That is what puts up a wall between Home and Peach again and reminds Peach of their class disparities: he is poor and Home is rich. Three years ago, Home hit him with his yellow sports car while Peach was on his way home from work. Home's family took care of everything, bribed the police and buried the evidence while Peach was left with pain, guilt and trauma. Home was sent abroad to lay low while Peach lost his mentor (and mother figure), his job and his self-confidence. They couldn't be more worlds apart than they are.

One of Peach's fatal flaws is his pride. He doesn't care if he's going to have to go back to the "rat hole" he came from. He doesn't care if he's losing the chance of living a comfortable life. Peach went his whole life without generational wealth, he can continue to do so now.

So of course, not only doesn't he take the money but he goes even further and intends to give back all that he got from Home's family. Peach wants to be far way from Home and that includes his money. He doesn't care about being reasonable right now, he's just protecting himself.