#a bastion for everyone but himself

[zeebreezin]

Shaw being a Rook on the chessboard is funny because he’s so goddamn raven coded on accident, however it’s really funny to me because despite being represented by a castle, I would argue that a primary thematic of this man is breaking foundations he has built up over time.

[feline-evil]

Dethvanity is really funny to me conceptually as an episode because you can see how little they had to make the characters insecure about for the bit. They swing for obvious lowblow choices with Pickle' baldness and Nathan's weight and even those require some suspension of disbelief because ok. Sure. Nathan '(said extremely proudly) never skipped a meal in my life!' Explosion is insecure about being a big man now. Nathan *guy who everyone thinks is smoking hot 99% of the time* Explosion is a tiny bit larger than usual and is insecure about it now. Lol. Lmao even.

But anyway then we hit Skwisgaar and Toki and there's like NOTHING to swing for, you can see them going uhhh ok Skwis doesn't sleep he probably drinks a lot of coffee, and Toki? Shit, what does Toki have to be insecure about with his looks. He's perfect, he's adorable, he's ripped. Um. FUCK IT, HE'S DOING NOTHING BUT EATING LEMONS. WE GOT NOTHING, WE GOT NOTHING, JUST GIVE THE BOY CITRUS FRUITS.

WOE 🍋 BE UPON YE

I'm sure i could make some smarter points about the attempts at applying vanity in this ep and how outside of this and a few other moments i do actually like that the show rarely takes pot shots at things like Nathan's weight, but you see Nathan has shirtless scenes in this one and so my intelligence is impeded when all the blood rushes out of my head and into my-

[hexhomos]

where do u think jayce immigrated from? i saw somewhere saying shurima with probably mixed ixtali parents. ixtal bc it was once a part of the shurima empire. north african, west asian, latino king… especially wild rift survivor jayce has that look to me.

Remembered this ask just now so stealing tidbits from my fic;

I think Jayce is the son of an Ixtali mother & a Piltovan father. He has this line in s1 stating 'My father put hammers in the hands of the people, and they built this magnificent city. Imagine the wonders they could create if we put magic in their hands.' - to me this shows a historical link between the Talis-dad side & being in service of Piltover, Jayce has shaped himself around this idealistic goal all his life and its really not what he imagined it would be.

now Ixtal is the Leagueoflegends-verse region based on Aztec/Mayan aesthetics and general southamerican flair. They survived multiple apocalyptic threats by weaving a jungle around themselves and cutting their people off from the rest of runeterra. Canonically, this region has been the target of colonization efforts by both Noxus and Piltover, though neither have found much success. The jungle has a way of disappearing people. Even More Ironically, Ixtal is one of the regions where magic is harnessed and allowed to go free; in their own words, they are THE oldest bastion of ancient knowledge, masters of the elements. In my view, this makes it so Jayce is both metaphorically and literally reaching for an inheritance that has been denied to him.

Everyone mentions the mountains when talking about immigration but there are mountains outside of Piltover! They're not in Freljord! i know this because i asked Amanda myself. It's likely Ximena & Jayce were up in the mountain for work reasons like mining.

Also, the mountain stuff gives him even more ties to Mexican heritage:

[inkskinned]

she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.

in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.

it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.

i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.

sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.

and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.

once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?

i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.

my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."

the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.

[sweemmy]

Bill Cipher doesn’t form attachments.

He is Bill Cipher, the most brilliant mind ever to exist, an entity whose intelligence transcends human comprehension. He’s not just a mere demon; he’s a god, an all-powerful being who manipulates the laws of the universe as if they were chess pieces. To him, everyone and everything are mere tools, manipulable pieces he can move or replace at will, devoid of any hint of emotion. If someone, in their folly, tries to escape his control, Bill bends or replaces them without a second thought, his gaze never straying from his target.

Bill Cipher doesn’t form attachments.

In his mind, everyone is just a piece on his elaborate chessboard, mere pawns in a cosmic game he effortlessly dominates. It doesn’t matter who you are or how important you think you are; to Bill, you’re just another resource, something he can move, manipulate, or sacrifice without hesitation. If someone dares to try to escape his control, Bill doesn’t concern himself. With a single thought, he can twist reality to his will, make you stay, or simply replace you with a more useful piece, without blinking, his smile never faltering.

Bill Cipher doesn’t form attachments.

That’s why, when you had the audacity to confess your feelings, he looked at you with a mix of astonishment and disdain, as if you had made the gravest mistake of your existence. His eye, usually filled with a playful and mischievous glint, hardened with a terrifying intensity, while his voice, usually laced with mockery and amusement, turned cold and sharp as a blade, exuding an ice that made you shiver.

“What kind of stupidity is this?” Bill roared, his voice rumbling in your mind like a furious storm threatening to sweep everything away. The intensity of his contempt enveloped you like an unrelenting tempest, and his sarcastic tone burned you like acid. “You should be smarter than this, pathetic sack of flesh! Did you really think you could trap me in something as ridiculous and trivial as love?”

His words cut deeper than any knife, each syllable sharp, wounding you to your core. The rejection lodged in your heart like a poisoned dagger, each of his insults driving it further inside, tearing apart any hope you might have had. But despite the pain, the words caught in your throat, unable to escape. What could you say in the face of a being so superior, who saw you as nothing more than a disposable piece in his endless and cruel game?

You stepped back, feeling the crushing weight of reality. Bill Cipher has no feelings, never did, and never will. And you, in your naivety, had dared to imagine that you could be the exception.

Bill Cipher doesn’t form attachments.

Yet, when he saw you crying inconsolably, overwhelmed by the pain of his harsh words, a flicker of discomfort crossed his cold, calculating mind. Though he couldn’t understand or empathize with the hurt he had caused, something within him shifted, as if a tiny crack had appeared in his impenetrable façade. Unable to comprehend or handle this unexpected feeling, he chose to walk away, leaving you in a state of desperation and desolation. Unbeknownst to him, in that moment, he actually yearned to embrace you, a desire that confused and frightened him.

Is Bill Cipher not someone who forms attachments?

Bill had always considered himself a bastion impervious to emotional ties, a being whose heart was armored against any form of affection. Yet there was something about you that had breached those implacable defenses. Although he had outright rejected you, the idea of seeing you with someone else enraged him in a way he couldn’t control. His mind, which had always navigated the waters of logic and strategy, was now overwhelmed by a storm of jealousy and frustration that consumed him slowly. The mere thought of someone else having your attention, of another enjoying your company, became a threat to his absolute control. Each of your interactions with others was, in his twisted mind, a betrayal, a rebellion against his dominance.

One night, while talking with a friend about something trivial, a familiar shadow appeared at your side. Bill materialized, his twisted smile more sinister than ever.

“Aren’t you tired of wasting time with those insignificant insects?” His voice was sharp, laden with a palpable contempt that you couldn’t ignore. His eyes, usually filled with mockery and malice, now held an unsettling mix of jealousy and possessiveness you had never seen before.

You tried to distance yourself, to downplay his presence, but Bill wouldn’t allow it. His triangular form floated so close you could feel the dark energy around him, as if he were marking his territory in a nearly tangible way.

“What’s wrong? Do you prefer someone else’s company? Do you really think that pathetic human could understand you better than I could?” His voice dripped with bitterness, a visceral reaction he couldn’t contain.

The air grew heavy and oppressive, almost suffocating, and you felt a knot of anguish tighten in your chest. Bill was jealous, and though he would never admit it, that feeling was consuming him from within. It was evident that something fundamental had changed in him, even if it was against his will. Despite his initial rejection, Bill Cipher had clung to you in a way that bewildered him, trapped in a web of emotions he didn’t understand and, deep down, terrified him. For Bill, the mere act of experiencing something as human as jealousy was a sign that you had achieved the impossible: penetrating his stone heart and awakening a need he had never known.

Bill brought your face so close to his that all you could see was a sickly yellow hue. Before you could react, a blood-curdling scream and the grotesque sound of cracking bones filled the air. After a few minutes, Bill released you and walked away with an unsettling calm. When you turned around, your friend had vanished without a trace.

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 4

I finished it!! It will have 8 chapters. I'm excited for you guys to see where this goes! I'm still working on Sweet Home Indiana and will be focusing on that until ITS done. Then we'll be back our regularly schedule WIPs.

We have Eddie's big plan and Steve gets his flirt on.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

****

Steve slipped into the kitchen and there in his mother’s neat handwriting was a note telling him that there were leftovers in the fridge and that they would be home again next Friday.

He sighed and opened the fridge. He immediately closed it when he saw what the leftovers were.

Boiled cabbage with chopped bacon and carrots. It wasn’t bad if it was made correctly, but his mother boiled any flavor and nutrients out of the poor vegetables and then tossed in cooked bacon to hide its sins.

He opened the cupboard and pulled out a small can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and made that. He was craving the sodium. Eddie’s beef was good to get his body to stop shaking, but he had sweat so much he needed to replenish the salt he’d lost.

Once Steve had eaten and drank another glass of water he went to go get a shower and get ready for bed. It was no use trying to get back to his homework now. He had managed to blow up his whole evening by getting lost.

He had no idea how he got to Forest Hills or even why his feet carried him there in the first place. He could feel the weariness seeping into his bones from running for so long.

He undressed and got under the scorching water, letting the heat carry away his pains. His mind ran through all the things that Munson had done for him. The guy had no reason to be nice to him, but he had been more than gracious.

Then it hit him. Munson had called him Stevie, and without thinking Steve had called him Eds.

Eds.

Where the fuck did that come from? They weren’t friends, they could barely be considered acquaintances. Was his brain reaching out to the guy subconsciously? Is that why he ended up at the trailer park? Everyone knew that’s where Munson lived. Who knew how many times the guy had been called trailer trash, but the older teen seemed to rise above the insult.

Steve shook his head, spraying water everywhere. Just because Munson picked up lost sheep, didn’t mean he’d be willing to taken in an injured wolf. Because that’s what he was, reformed or not, Steve would never be a sheep. He would always be a wolf. A predator.

But at least as a wolf he could protect those kids with everything he had. And he would, even if it killed him.

The water had long since turned cold by the time Steve stepped out of the shower. He completed his after shower routine mostly on autopilot as he kept going over his interactions with both Munson men. He didn’t really have good interactions with dads or in this case uncles. But Munson’s uncle Wayne treated him with kindness and he could see where the older boy got it from.

He dressed into his pajamas and slid under the covers. He rolled over on his back and tucked one arm under his pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

Steve thought back to the apology. One Munson really didn’t have to give but did anyway. He thought about the other jocks that bragged about hurting his hand. He held it up and looked at the fading bruise. It wasn’t as though he was even basketball anymore. Hurting his hand wouldn’t do anything but make it hard to do his homework and all he had to do is show his teachers his hurt hand and he’d get extensions for that. Like he had for his concussion last November.

But then again Tommy H. never had reasons for the people he hurt either. He just liked the power he got seeing the person helpless.

He placed his hand over his heart and let himself drift off the sleep, brown eyes and dark curls haunting his dreams.

****

Eddie had originally bought the red heart for himself like he had told the two juniors. But staring at it now, he had a better plan for it. Because that last wall, that last bastion of defense crumbled to ashes when he realized that despite the fancy car, the big house, and the expensive clothes, Steve Harrington was more like Eddie than he thought possible.

Wayne’s approval of the boy cemented that for him. Because if he could take one look at Steve and decide he was worth saving, then Eddie raring to go full steam ahead for a rescue mission.

Eddie could tell that the hearts were made from simple construction paper, like the kind found just about anywhere. He knew it would be technically cheating to just simply make more instead of buying them, but he had no intention of contributing to a dance he was never going to go to because one, it wasn’t his year; two, the whole gay thing; and three, the one person he would want to go with if the gay thing wouldn’t get him hate crimed, wouldn’t give him the time of day.

Well, all right, that might have changed with the whole rescuing him from wandering alone in the dark thing.

He forgave Eddie about being a dumbass, so maybe there was hope for, at the very least, a vast decrease in hostility. And he was willing to take what he could get.

He decided to wait until tomorrow after school to get the construction paper and hope that the high school hadn’t bought up the town’s supply.

On his way out the next morning, Wayne stopped him.

“You don’t have to tell me, son,” he said gently, “but you got feelings for that boy?”

Eddie froze and turned slowly to face his uncle. “What gave you that idea?”

Wayne chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Boy, when you’d go on rants about the Harrington boy, you’d describe his floppy hair, his hazel eyes and how unfairly good looking the kid was. I didn’t say anything because it did sound like he’d been a bit of an ass. Only after last night I got to thinking and was wondering is all.”

Eddie closed his eyes and opened them slowly. He let out a long shuddering breath, his bottom lip quivering.

“I–I don’t...” he closed his eyes again. This wasn’t Al. He wasn’t going to get beat for admitting it, but still it was so hard to say. So he just nodded.

Wayne came up and wrapped his arms around his nephew. “It’s a hell of a lot tougher batting for the other team, but I trust your judgment. Just promise me that if he shows signs of liking you back, you take the chance to tell him how you feel because...”

“You miss one hundred percent of the chances you don’t take,” they said together.

Eddie dropped his bag to the floor and hugged him back. “I know, old man. But I promise if there is a chance, I’ll be brave enough to take it.”

“Get going,” Wayne said, voicing cracking with emotion.

He pulled back and nodded. He reshouldered his backpack and got in his van.

He had a lot to think about and that really wasn’t conducive to paying attention in class or to his friends as they talked about their upcoming D&D session.

Gareth kicked his shin causing him to yelp.

“What the fuck, dude?” Eddie hissed.

“What the fuck is up with you?” Gareth hissed back. “You’ve been going on and on about the mind flayer for weeks and now that it’s literally this weekend, and you’re off in some other realm.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment before his brain came back on. He shook his head to clear it.

“Yeah, sorry, man,” he said around a pretzel. “Weird night last night.”

“What happened?” Jeff asked, tilting his head to the side.

So Eddie told them. “He was like a ghost, guys. If Wayne hadn’t seen him too, I would have thought I was hitting Mary Jane a little too hard, you know?”

“I didn’t realize he was getting bullied,” Brian said, frowning. “I would have thought with Hargrove giving the dude a wide berth, that everyone else would have too.”

“Untouchable,” Jeff agreed. “The fact that jocks are now splintering into factions tells you what kind of control Steve actually had on them.”

Eddie rubbed his chin. “I don’t know how true this is, but if Harrington wasn’t lying, he’s a real sweetheart, too.”

Then he leaned forward and explained about the pink heart scheme.

“So,” Gareth said, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them, “you’re telling us is that we have been seriously remiss in our duties in collecting lost sheep.”

The older teen sighed and shook his head. “I’d like to collect him, but I’m afraid the wolves might decide to rip him apart before we got him to safety if we tried.”

Jeff winced. He knew what Eddie was talking about. Steve Harrington wasn’t the usual lost sheep. He might be bullied now, but as King, Harrington had run far too long with the wolves to think that they could protect him one hundred percent of the time.

“So what are we going to do?” Brian asked. “Because if we let this slide, we’re throwing our lot in with the bullies and that’s something I refuse to do.”

A grin spread out over Eddie’s face, closed lips and dimples entrenched into his cheeks. “We’re going to make the school think that he’s just as popular as he ever was.”

The other three boys looked at each other in confusion.

“So what have you got?” Gareth asked, his own grin starting to take over his face.

****

Eddie made sure to get to class early so he could see where Steve was going to sit. He tried to tell himself it was about the dude’s hand, but it wasn’t working. He wanted to see if the former Hawkins royalty would chose to sit with his old friends or by him again.

He didn’t have long to wait. Steve walked in not long after he did, just as the bell rang. He didn’t even look at his old desk near the front and beelined it for the chair he had sat in on Friday.

The teacher picked up on the change immediately and wrinkled her nose. “I am to suppose that you are taking up permanent residence in the back with Mr. Munson, Mr. Harrington?”

Steve half shrugged as he began to pull out his things for class. “I got more work done, Mrs. Dixon and I really want to graduate on time.”

Mrs. Dixon nodded. “Agreed and as long as you continue the level of attention from last week, you are permitted to stay there.”

About half way through class while Mrs. Dixon was grading papers, Tommy H. turned around and kicked Steve’s chair. “Suck up,” he hissed.

Steve puckered his lips and wagged his eyebrows. “Why? Do you want to be next?”

Tommy turned back around, his face bright red.

Eddie raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side as he considered everything about that interaction.

A little blossom of hope sprouted in his chest and he fought to keep it down. Steve had insinuated that other people were gay for years, but to Eddie’s highly trained gay ears, that sounded like Steve was offering to suck Tommy H.’s dick and that Tommy didn’t exactly turn him down.

Curiouser and curiouser, he thought tapping his lips thoughtfully. More research would have to be done.

He pulled out a different notebook, the one he used for campaign notes and song lyrics.

He wrote girls over one column and boys over the other and began tallying what he knew about the former King of Hawkins.

A shit ton went into the Steve liking girls column, but there was surprisingly more in the liking boys column then he would have thought possible. He looked up to catch Steve smirking at him.

Eddie quickly covered his notebook and stuck his tongue out at Steve.

The other boy shook his head and went back to doing the assignment. Eddie was more careful about what he left out in the open because he didn’t want Steve teased for it nor did he want him to see that Eddie was trying to figure him out.

The bell rang and the notebook was suddenly whisked off his desk.

“Hey!” Eddie cried, looking up to see Steve dancing away with the notebook teasingly. “Stevie!” He grabbed his bag and chased after the other boy. But the other boy was a jock and Eddie was wheezing for breath by the time he caught up with him at his locker.

“Give that back,” he huffed.

Steve gave him a bright smile and handed it back. “I just made a minor addition.”

Eddie frowned as he flipped through the pages but didn’t see anything. Steve took it back and turned to the correct page and leaned close so that only Eddie could hear.

“I trust you’ll keep my secret,” he whispered and then dropped to one knee to start getting into his locker.

Eddie gulped at the sight and turned to the paper to avoid saying something stupid. There in bold capital letters under his girls/guys columns was the word BOTH.

He looked up at Steve who had stood up. Steve winked at him and then walked away, leaving a shocked Eddie behind.

****

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

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[marthamaewhovier]

7.07 Coda

Buck makes it through three levels of It Takes Two before Christopher clocks him.

“Who are you texting so much?” Christopher asks after pausing the game.

Buck’s little character hangs over a chasm between two spinning gears he’s absolutely going to plummet to his death in as soon as the game is resumed. Christopher’s character stands on the other side, having cleared it in one go.

“Who are you texting so much?” Buck deflects. The only reason he made it this far unnoticed is because Christopher’s had his nose buried in his own phone during every loading screen and unskippable cut scene, same as Buck.

“My girlfriend,” Christopher says, the two words purposefully slow and drawn out, carrying every ounce of the are you stupid that flavors at least a quarter of everything a thirteen year old ever says, Christopher not being an exception to that rule. Buck does remarkably well at only taking offense a little.

It was the sound of his phone tinging with two texts in a row where it’s lying face down on his thigh that had led to the pause and now, damningly, it tings again with its helpful little reminder that he’d gotten a text two minutes ago.

Christopher looks down at it and then up at Buck, unimpressed and waiting for an answer.

The truth is, he’s been texting Tommy. Their shifts haven’t been lining up well at all lately, one on while the other’s off, and the brief windows neither of them are working just haven’t been enough to actually go on a date or even just hang out.

In fact, Tommy’s on shift right now, and they’ve been texting like, well, teenagers.

One of which is still staring at him expectantly.

“Um,” he says intelligently. Because he hadn’t really planned on doing this tonight. Kinda hadn’t been planning on it at all, outside of just knowing he needs to say something at some point, but he’d sooty-faced his way through not having to actually do this with most of his family, and sure Christopher had been there, but he’s not really sure if he’d caught it before Hen had clucked her tongue at him and wet napped his face with a giant, proud smile on hers.

He could evade. Worry about this later when he’s actually thought about what to say. But he wants Christopher to know him, all of him.

“I’m texting Tommy. We’re, uh, w-we’re dating now.”

“Dad’s friend Tommy?”

“Yeah. Well—my friend, too.”

“Apparently,” Christopher says, his mouth sliding into that shit-eating smirk that is every inch a perfect copy of Eddie’s.

Buck laughs, a weight off he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying around. He’s felt that a lot, lately. “So you’re okay with it?”

Christopher’s brow furrows. “Yeah? I like Tommy,” he says, again with the teenage everyone is stupid tone, but Buck thinks he’s never been happier to hear it.

He hadn’t been worried, not in any real way. Christopher is Eddie’s kid, after all. They’re both bastions of compassion and care. But Christopher’s nonchalance still feels like a gift.

“Now can you please jump across these gears without dying?” Christopher asks, turning back to the TV.

Buck gives himself a moment just to smile at Christopher, this kid that he somehow has the privilege of watching grow up. And then he too turns back to their game.

“No promises, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

[sonamytrash]

Catch up

Yuta Okkotsu x Fem reader.

Warnings: Older reader implied, only slighter older by a few years. Pining, mutual pining, fluff, bittersweet romance.

Banner by @cafekitsune

Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School, a bastion of arcane knowledge for the next generation of sorcerers. It serves not only as a training ground but also as a headquarters for all who have graduated. The air was always thick with the scent of incense as students roamed the hallowed halls in their distinctive uniforms, their conversations, a symphony of ambition, and camaraderie. Yuta, however, often found himself lost in thought, his gaze lingering often on you as you walked by, your hips swaying gently with each step you took. Your eyes would occasionally flicker in his direction, sending a shiver down his spine. Did you know? Did you notice his furtive glances all these years? You were an intelligent woman, you must know.

The rumour mill had recently churned with whispers that you would soon be leaving Japan for an overseas assignment, a rare opportunity for any young sorcerer. The prospect of your departure weighed heavily on Yuta's heart. Having recently returned from Africa, he was hopeful to spend some time alongside you. Just a few short weeks before you had to leave, however, it seemed cruelly short.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the grounds were bathed in a warm orange glow, Yuta gathered the courage to approach you. His heart thudded in his chest as he stepped into the quiet library where you could often be found with a cup of tea whenever you were visiting the establishment. The scent of old tomes and parchment filled the air, creating a cosy atmosphere. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come.

"Senpai," he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up from your book. You had felt his presence before he had even spoken, the air around the two of you crackling with the tension of unspoken words. You set the tome aside, your delicate fingers brushing against the leather cover. "Okkotsu-kun," you reply politely, your voice like a melody that could soothe the fiercest of spirits. "You're back from Africa," you say, smiling softly at him. "How was your trip?" You gaze softly over his features. He was taller and definitely stronger. His new haircut framed his delicate, handsome features.

Yuta's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, feeling your eyes on him, and he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "It was... enlightening," he managed to say, his mind racing for the right words. He had dreamed of this moment, but now that it was here, he found himself at a loss for what to say. "I heard you'll be leaving soon," he added, trying to keep his voice steady.

Your smile faltered slightly, a hint of sadness creeping into your eyes. "Yes, I've been offered a position abroad," you reply. "It's an opportunity I can't pass up. But I'll miss everyone here."

"I... I just wanted to thank you," he stuttered, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. "For everything you've taught me. I wouldn't be where I am without your guidance."

Gojo had asked you to help Yuta upon his admission to the school as a special grade sorcerer almost two years ago now. You weren't keen on having to babysit, and you weren't what anyone would consider a natural at teaching. Keeping yourself to yourself and working alone was more your style. Which was precisely why the man had asked you to spend some time with Yuta. You were a kind woman but also fiercely strong, funny, and understanding. However, you surprisingly found yourself enjoying the time you spent working on missions together. There were a couple of years between the two of you, and you weren't surprised when you sensed his schoolboy crush during your later interactions following The Night Parade of 100 Demons. You'd be lying if you didn't think he was adorable back then and had grown during his time away, you had thought about your newfound feelings towards him in more recent weeks, acknowledging his strength as a sorcerer and what a good man he continues to grow into. But you didn't want to serve as anymore of a distraction for him, and the fact still stood that you would be leaving soon.

You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "You're welcome, Yuta," you replied warmly. "Your progress was quite remarkable." Your eyes searched his, and for a moment, he thought he saw something flicker in their depths—was it understanding?

The silence stretched between the two of you, thick with unspoken feelings. Yuta's palms grew clammy, and he clenched them into fists at his sides. He had rehearsed this moment a thousand times in his head, but now that he was here, the words felt clumsy and inadequate. He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "There's something else I need to tell you," he murmured.

You leaned back in your chair, arms folded under your chest. "Go on," you encouraged, your voice a soft caress that seemed to echo in the quiet library.

Yuta took another step closer, his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. He could feel the warmth of your presence, the energy that surrounded you like a comforting blanket. "Senpai," he said, his voice steadying. "I... I have feelings for you. I know it's not proper, and I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I can't keep it to myself anymore. I wanted to be honest with you.... before you leave."

Your smile never wavered, but your eyes searched his, looking for the sincerity behind his words. "Feelings, huh?" You mused, your voice a gentle breeze. "That's quite the confession, Okkotsu-kun."

Yuta nodded, his throat tight with emotion. He had hoped for a positive reaction, but he was prepared for rejection. "I know it's sudden," he said, his voice low. "But I've had these feelings for a long time."

You studied him for a moment, your gaze unreadable. Then, you stood up, closing the gap between the two of you. Your hand reached out and touched his cheek, your skin warm against his. "You're a good man, Yuta," you said, your voice tender. "And a powerful sorcerer. But you're also very young."

Yuta's heart skipped a beat, and he leaned into your touch. "I know," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "But I can't help how I feel."

Your eyes searched his, your thumb gently brushing against his cheekbone. "I appreciate your honesty," you murmur. "But we are in a delicate position. We are both sorcerers, with duties and responsibilities that extend beyond our personal lives."

Yuta nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I understand," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But I had to tell you. I couldn't keep it bottled up anymore."

Your hand lingered on his cheek, your thumb tracing a small circle. "I appreciate your honesty," you said softly. "It's not every day someone confesses to me like this. I have to say, I'm flattered."

Yuta felt a spark of hope. "Does that mean that you're not completely rejecting me?"

You chuckled lightly, your eyes never leaving his. "It means that I'll think about it," you reply, your voice a gentle caress. "We are sorcerers. Our lives are fraught with danger and responsibility. Love is a precious thing, but it can also be a distraction. You know better than anyone how dangerous it can be."

Yuta's heart sank, but he understood. He knew you were right, but he couldn't help the wave of disappointment that washed over him. "I understand," he murmured, trying to hide his feelings.

You searched his eyes, your gaze piercing. "But I don't want you to think I don't care," you state. "I do. More than you know."

Yuta felt his hope rekindle. "Do you mean..." he trailed off, unable to form the question, his face reddening.

You leaned in closer, your breath a gentle caress on his cheek. "It means," you whispered, "it's a small world of sorcerers, and that I'll be waiting for you to catch up."

[toweringclam]

One of the best things about My Adventures With Superman is that it puts a classic rescuing-cats superman in a post-Injustice world that not only believes Superman should be dark and evil, but is doing its damnedest to convince Superman that he already is the Bad Superman everyone expects. Even his typical bastions, at least at first, aren't sure what to make of him. Martha Kent is traumatized by the time the ship almost killed her and accidentally projects it onto him. Zor El is scary and off-putting until he realizes that Clark doesn't know anything about Kryptonian language or culture. Lois Lane loves Clark but distrusts Superman, a near inversion of the typical early-relationship dynamic.

And like you see the strain on him. He's out to prove to himself as much as anyone else that he's good actually, and the universe keeps conspiring against him, what with a League of Loises, the Brainiac infection on his ship, and Mxyzptlk's little Trauma Orb. Poor guy is the sweetest and most lovable version of Superman since Christopher Reeves, but in a world even darker and more cynical than the 70s.

[robininthelabyrinth]

A Better Lie - ao3

Fandom: The Untamed Pairing: Jin Guangyao/Nie Mingjue Summary:

Wait. This wasn't the Lan sect, with all its strict rules and stricter morality. This was the Nie. (Meng Yao identifies an opportunity.)

----------------

It was only a better lie, in the end.

A stroke of luck – or perhaps, of genius.

When he first heard Nie Mingjue’s shout, Meng Yao was still holding the sword he'd just used to kill the Nie commander, but he could feel it slipping out of his nerveless fingers. He could feel his mouth opening with instinctive denials - it wasn't me, it was Xue Yang, I didn't do it - all ridiculous, of course. It was him, and he did do it, and Nie Mingjue was staring at him with those horribly hurt eyes, already starting to fill with tears in a way they hadn't despite the strain of having his home attacked and his precious brother demanded as a hostage by the man who’d killed his father.

That hurt.

Not the tears, of course. Tears, Meng Yao knew well, were cheap. But he found himself displeased by what they meant: by the fact that he’d hurt Nie Mingjue, in a way even Wen Ruohan hadn’t, when Nie Mingjue was a man he’d come to…well, to appreciate. Nie Mingjue, who hadn't cared about Meng Yao's past or his mother even after he’d been told about it, who had given him opportunities beyond his wildest expectations, who – it seemed – had left an active battlefield in order to come find him because he was worried about him...

Nie Mingjue was going to have no choice but to find him guilty, Meng Yao knew. No matter what he said or did, that was Nie sect law, and Nie Mingjue believed in his sect’s laws the way he believed in the sun rising every day. He might be able to commute the sentence from execution into exile if Meng Yao did something brave, if for instance he used his body to shield Nie Mingjue from an attack that would no doubt be forthcoming because they were both literally standing there frozen in the middle of battle, but that was it, that was the best Meng Yao would be able to get. And exiling him would hurt Nie Mingjue, too, maybe even more than execution, because Meng Yao knew that Nie Mingjue loved him, even if the other man hadn't figured it out yet, and having to worry about him suffering would hurt Nie Mingjue even more than knowing he was dead.

And all because he'd broken the rules.

Rules. Hah! 

Meng Yao thought, briefly, about the Lan sect, that bastion of rules and inflexibility. Of Lan Xichen, who had been so kind to him during the classes Nie Mingjue had sent him to attend. Lan Xichen, who was a good gentleman, handsome and sympathetic. Who would make a reasonable second prospect to target now that Nie Mingjue was no longer an option...

No. What was he thinking? That was the brothel madam's voice in his head, not his own, not his mother, who had tried so hard to make him a gentleman rather than a whore.

Meng Yao didn't want to think like that. 

Of course, he didn't want to die, either.

So self-sacrifice and exile it would have to be, even if it hurt them both. Maybe he’d even go after Lan Xichen, too, if that was what it took - if Meng Yao couldn't have the love he really wanted, Nie Mingjue's unquestionable and unconditional affection which had been given to him freely when he had been at his lowest moments, then he might as well put his ambitions above all else. Over love, over morality, over all the stupid hypocritical loophole-riddled rules that nevertheless did not leave a loophole aside for him, because no rule allowed for murdering a man by stabbing him in the back, not even self-defense -

Wait.

This wasn't the Lan sect, with all its strict rules and stricter morality.

This was the Nie.

"Sect Leader, dodge!" Meng Yao roared, louder than he'd ever been in his life, mimicking to his best ability the stern grim-faced training master of the Nie sect who everyone listened to without question. 

Nie Mingjue was no exception, obedience to that voice boiled into his bones. He threw himself aside, causing Wen Zhuiliu's sword to miss and come hurtling towards Meng Yao himself. There was a split second where he could decide to just take the blow in some place that wouldn't cause permanent damage, just as there had been a split second for him to pick between throwing his body between Nie Mingjue and the sword instead of shouting him out of the way – a far more dramatic sort of rescue – but just as before, Meng Yao decided against it. 

He was taking a far bigger gamble. 

Meng Yao threw himself down, flat on his face, and Wen Zhuliu's sword went wide over his head. A moment later, as he'd hoped, Nie Mingjue rose up with Baxia in hand and murder in his eyes. Now that he was no longer being distracted by Meng Yao, he was able to see Wen Zhuliu turning towards him with deadly palm extended.

Meng Yao gritted his teeth and threw the Wen sword he'd picked up at Wen Zhuiliu's feet. It wouldn't get either of them much more than split-second of distraction, at best, but when you were fighting against a man like Nie Mingjue, you couldn't afford even that.

A split second later, saber met with palm, and Wen Zhuliu went flying. 

Clutching at his bloodied hand, looking shocked, the other man scuttled away not long thereafter, and with the real leader of the Wen forces humbled - it certainly wasn't Wen Chao they were following, no matter what he might lie to himself and think - the rest of them soon dispersed.

"My brother will not be going to any Wen training camp," Nie Mingjue spat after them, too genteel to follow it up with actual spit the way Meng Yao halfway wanted him to. "Not now, and not ever!"

Behind him, the rest of the Nie burst into spontaneous cheers, bellowing as loud as bulls. Even their guests, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, looked relieved and impressed - Nie Mingjue's fame was going to increase again, it seemed, as soon as they got back to Yunmeng and boasted of how the Nie, at least, certainly did not fear the power of the Wen sect.

"Meng Yao, with me," Nie Mingjue said when he was done with that, which was only as Meng Yao had expected. "Now."

Meng Yao bowed his head and scuttled after him into the receiving hall. Nie Mingjue threw Baxia over to her stand and sat heavily on the Nie sect throne, though not as heavily as he might have if he'd been injured and his sect the loser in the fight just now, burdened by his duty as sect leader and his worries as an older brother. 

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" he asked grimly. Or, well, he thought he was being grim, but Meng Yao could see the fear in his eyes - come up with something clever, Nie Mingjue was quietly begging, even though he would never know that that was what he was doing or admit it to himself if he did, please, please come up with something that means I don't need to kill you for your crimes. Don't taint this day with making me lose you. Don't make me have to lose you...

Meng Yao saluted deeply. 

"This humble Meng Yao admits his error," he said, hoping against hope that this gamble of his would work. "I should not have allowed my enthusiasm for a private duel to overcome my understanding of the bigger picture, putting myself over sect interests."

Nie Mingjue was stunned silent for a long moment. 

Meng Yao waited, hoping so hard that it hurt.

Please, he thought, now the one to beg silently. Please let him focus on the part that I need him to focus on, not the parts I need him to overlook. Please!

"...private duel?" Nie Mingjue finally said, and Meng Yao’s heart surged with elation. "You were – dueling?"

"Yes, Sect Leader," Meng Yao lied, using every ounce of guile he had to hide his joy behind a mask of contrition. "I formally challenged the commander yesterday in the late evening. He had tried to keep me from seeing to the prisoner Xue Yang at your order, contrary to protocol, and in doing so said something very rude about my mother."

That latter part was true, and of course there had been no one else around at the time. The Nie commander had always been good at making sure there weren't when he delivered his nastiest jibes, although he'd made enough milder ones in front of others that people would testify on Meng Yao's behalf if it came to that. 

He didn't think it would come to that. Nie Mingjue wanted to believe him.

"He accepted, but he was drunk at the time, so we agreed to postpone," Meng Yao added, adopting an apologetic tone. "Nevertheless, I admit that I let myself get carried away. A battlefield is no place to carry out private grudges -"

"He turned his back on you despite having accepted a duel with you?!" Nie Mingjue burst out, utterly incredulous, just as Meng Yao had hoped. "What was he thinking?!"

Probably that I was no threat, Meng Yao thought cynically, letting himself whole-heartedly lean into and believe the alternative universe where his lie had been the truth. That was the mark of a truly accomplished liar: the ability to genuinely believe, for however long necessary, that what he said was what it had really been. 

"What an idiot! Disrespectful, arrogant -" Nie Mingjue was raging, but he restrained himself after a moment, forcing himself to calm down. "Meng Yao, you're right, you should have known better than to proceed with a private duel while the sect was under attack. That is irresponsible, even if you got carried away by your feelings, and you will need to be punished appropriately. However, in light of your contributions in today's battle, I think we can reduce the number of strikes to - hm -"

"Two-thirds?" Meng Yao suggested, knowing that Nie Mingjue wanted to say half but couldn't quite bring himself to admit to that level of favoritism. That was the first thing Meng Yao had figured out about Nie Mingjue, in fact: he was dreadfully soft in the face of all he loved, but he desperately wanted to be a good man. And a good man, by the ancestral precepts of the Nie, was a harsh one, a just one, one who saw granting unnecessary mercy as weakness. "I can handle it, Sect Leader. It's only what I should do. As you said, Sect Leader, I should have known better. It was only that I got so angry..."

Meng Yao trailed off purposefully. 

As expected, Nie Mingjue picked up where he left off. "That's completely understandable," the man from a family and clan known for their uncontrollable rage said, nodding in absolute empathy. "But you must learn to channel your anger into the appropriate time and place. A considerable portion of Nie sect discipline and cultivation relates to that – ah, but you're still at the early stages there, having started as late as you did. Do not worry. Understanding will come in time."

Meng Yao bowed his head to hide his victory. 

He had remembered at the very last second that Nie sect principles did allow for manslaughter under certain circumstances, the way the rigid Lan sect rules did not. A proper duel, the challenge formally issued and agreed on by both parties, could be resumed at any time, and death was always a possibility; acting dishonorably wasn't permitted, so sneak attacks virtually never happened, but you were supposed to act as though you were at odds with a true enemy, never letting your guard down. Turning your back on someone you'd accept a duel with was an insult of the highest caliber. It mocked not only your opponent’s competence and ability, but their bravery - it looked down even upon their honor. 

A provocation that no one could resist.

Least of all someone starting to train in the Nie sect style, and thereby to have trouble controlling their temper!

If Nie Mingjue believed them to have been dueling, then the scene he'd happened upon looked very different. Temporary enemies united in the fight against the Wen, Meng Yao helping in the fight only to be disarmed, but then once the Wen were dead, matters breaking into strife once more: the Nie commander starting the fight back up, perhaps, saying some sneering words instead of helping Meng Yao up, insulting him, turning his back on him in even more blatant insult, and Meng Yao reaching in his unthinking rage to find the Wen sword at hand -

The Nie sect were notoriously emotional. Meng Yao wasn't, being far more inclined to put ruthless logic above all else, but men always judged others by their own measure. Nie Mingjue would evaluate the situation by putting himself in Meng Yao’s shoes, and under such circumstances, even Nie Mingjue might have been hard pressed to stay his hand (though obviously no one would be foolish enough to do such a thing to him, and he was likely to shout a warning anyway just because of who he was). True, it would never have happened, mostly because he would have also have had enough discipline to keep from killing his enemy in the middle of a battlefield. But he could understand it when someone else didn't manage to hold back to that degree. He could understand.

He could forgive.

And that was what mattered.

Maybe I should cultivate myself a reputation as a hair-trigger duelist, Meng Yao mused. Nie Mingjue would probably find that charming. I’d be like some yappy dog that tries to bite enemies three times the size – embarrassing, perhaps, but it would leave me a lot more leeway to eliminate my enemies.

Yes, I think I will do that. Plenty of the Nie already treat me as halfway to being Nie Mingjue's wife; this incident of forgiving a murder will only increase their respect for me, and a few more of the same, under permitted circumstances, will solidify it. The Nie sect has always respected aggression and violence. Showing more of that will make it easier for me to get my way when I really am half-master of the sect, with Nie Mingjue at my side.

And then, when the war with the Wen begins in earnest, it will be the Nie that will come out ascendant - the Nie which have never bowed, the Nie which have kept the rest of the cultivation world free through their own blood and valor, the Nie who everyone will owe for their lives and for the futures. Lan Xichen is an old friend of Nie Mingjue’s, and that Jiang sect puppy just now, Jiang Cheng, looked halfway in love with him after today's performance. They will happily support Nie Mingjue to be Chief Cultivator when Wen Ruohan is gone.

And Nie Mingjue, who hates paperwork so much, will give it all to me.

Jin Guangshan - 

Father -

In the end, you will be the one at the bottom of the stairs, and me at the top. You'll be the one to come begging me, wanting me to take your name, pretending it to be a privilege for me when in truth it will be one for you. You'll be the one groveling and sniffing around for the chance to rub off a little of my honor and status, to add my shine to yours, and the only thing you'll have to trade with is the surname I have always deserved, the one you owed it to my mother to give me. I'll accept it, oh yes, I’ll accept it, because it is mine and always should have been mine. But I’ll accept it at the time that I choose, the place that I choose, the manner that I choose, acting from strength rather than weakness.

You will come to me. Not the other way around.

Yes, that is how it will be.

You and that bitch wife of yours, you who both looked down upon me, who looked down upon my mother who had more value in her little finger than both of you put together: you'll both have to see me bow to her on my wedding day, to see her honored in front of the whole world by a man better than all of you put together. 

Meng Yao smiled. 

"Thank you, Sect Leader," he said. "I will learn. I promise you."

Nie Mingjue had that transfixed expression that always came on him when Meng Yao used that particular smile, the one he usually kept buried deep inside his heart - the cruel, vicious, hungry one, the one that revealed his longing to dominate and devour everything in his path, cherishing only the selected few. The smile Meng Yao had once thought he would never be able to show anyone at all, least of all someone above him, because it revealed too much about what he was really like, not obedient nor submissive in the slightest.

The smile he had thought would only ever be met with repulsion and disgust, and certainly not looked upon with desire, the way Nie Mingjue did whenever he saw it.

"...you can call me by name in private," Nie Mingjue finally said. He looked half-hypnotized by his own fascination, and only grew more so when Meng Yao dropped the humble act and prowled towards him like the snarling vicious beast that he sometimes felt he was under his skin. "If - if you want."

"I do want," Meng Yao purred. "Thank you for the honor, Sect Leader...no. Nie Mingjue."

Nie Mingjue swallowed hard.

"We should celebrate tonight," Meng Yao said.

"...celebrate?"

"Yes, of course. It’s only fair, isn’t it? The whole Nie sect should have a chance to savor our victory. Your victory."

And mine.

[sticks-without-stones]

ava has an issue with characters' driving forces

this post does have spoilers for the new episode, so i'll put this all under a "read more"

disclaimer goes away after a week, i will edit this post so be warned

there's a trend i've noticed when it comes to the main antagonists of ava and avm. theres a common theme amongst all of the villains (i'm counting second and chosen, since they are technically antagonists per ava season 1). let's explore this.

case 1: king orange

it's obvious that the thing motivating king to take over the bastion and get the minecraft icon is the fact that he lost his kid, and to an extent the kid's other guardian (wife, husband, s/o, pick your favorite); he creates a literal black hole in order to see his kid again because of an incident he couldn't control. not to mention king orange also lost purple's trust, and their support as a whole, which further emphasizes the loss of his son given that purple was a second chance, and he messed it up by losing sight of their relationship. this is something that king orange couldn't willingly control.

case 2: purple

purple experiences two kinds of loss: death and abandonment. obviously lapis (regular blue) abandons the family because they didn't approve of orchid (pink) coddling their child, something that purple couldn't control. then purple has to live with the fact that their only other parent is dying to some unforeseen reason, likely illness, and that too is something that they couldn't control.

case 3: second

second is more interesting, because it's something that gets glossed over. they're the antagonist in ava 4 up until the very end, and why does second do the things they do? because they lost their friends to something (someone; alan) they couldn't control and this is repeated in showdown; second watches dark kill their friends because of dark's own spite and hatred, which i will cover next. that is something second cannot control

case 4: dark

i think dark is a really good example of this trend; they were made to attack chosen and lost control, ultimately losing and teaming up with chosen to work against alan. then they convinced chosen to go on a conquest to essentially take over the world, which ends in dark losing chosen's trust and support as a friend due to beliefs that dark couldn't control (chosen's own morals)

case 5: chosen

compared to everyone else, chosen experiences loss and the inability to maintain control in different ways. they fought back against alan and, as punishment, was forced to be alan's pop-up window destroyer against their own will, and they can't control it then he does, freeing himself, prompting dark's creation, and eventually befriending dark and teaming up with them to destroy the world. they grew distant, not sharing the same beliefs and reasoning as dark anymore, and directly opposed dark during the virabot sequence. this all leads to chosen and dark fighting during the showdown, which is when chosen ultimately watches second kill their former friend and can't control that

case 6: victim

the whole reason why this post was made is because of victim's whole deal with mitsi. they endured abuse, lost the upperhand in that initial fight with alan, took matters into their own hands and fled the computer then met mitsi, fell in love, started a company together, and they lost her in a situation that they couldn't control, that being chosen and dark destroying newgrounds

if you couldn't notice already, there is something that happens between every single antagonist, and that's the fact that every antagonist has lost something due to circumstances they can't control

obviously the circumstances are different. majority of these antagonists have experienced loss through death, while a handful also experienced loss through losing control, losing free will, so on so forth

"why is this an issue?"

put it this way: every single antagonist is being driven by the same exact thing, just in different fonts

every single major antagonist, in some way, shape, or form, loses something. as a result they are driven to get whatever they lost back, whether it's a loved one or the love of someone that is now gone (or in dark's case, trust).

i personally believe that there was a lot of missed potential within the antagonists, as i'm sure some people think, and i think it's because instead of having characters do things out of spite or out of sheer evil, it's in an attempt to get something back.

the reason i'm saying main antagonists and not villains is because in the case of youtube from animation vs youtube, the corrupt video green in the influencer arc, the pokemon universe in animation vs pokemon, and even the entire animation vs education series, the antagonists aren't going against second and the color gang because they lost someone dear to them or they lost the affection of those around them

case in point: corrupt video green. they were never loved to begin with, and that is what causes them to lash out at the color gang and fight them. everyone turned their back on them because they were imperfect, because they loved other creations more than them

also case in point: animation vs math. euler's identity only combatted second because second was technically the one that invaded their space. they're not trying to bring anyone back to life like king orange was, they were just protecting their territory

my thoughts are a little incoherent right now but i have a point, that being that the antagonists should have another reason to do the things they do that isn't just "oh my wife/son/friend/dad and mom died"

[nautilusopus]

the other thing i really like about bloodborne is that, despite being imo one of the few examples of a piece of media actually doing cosmic horror correctly and really earning that descriptor, it's very deliberate with how it subverts some of lovecraft's shittier tendencies in his writing. everyone fixates on his racism but you forget that poor people and foreigners can be Other too and man did he not like them either.

in bloodborne, the civilised, regimented university and later the church aren't the lone bastion of reason, them fucking about is what causes nearly every single problem in the game. natives to yharnam, stated to be one of the hearts of civilisation due to the power and wealth blood ministration brought the city, aside from the six year-old girl and a prostitute, are haughty xenophobes and unhinged at best even when sane, often trending towards homicidal. the only two sane people you find there are eileen and gilbert, and their accents compared to native yharnamites clearly place them as foreign.

and like look at this shit

In Yharnam, they produce more blood than alcohol, as the former is the more intoxicating.

The constables became victims of the beast, except for one survivor, who in turn devoured the creature whole, all by himself. The fable is a favorite among Yharnamites, who are partial to any stories of pompous, intolerant foreigners who suffer for their ignorance. It makes the blood taste that much sweeter.

like this is all text, yharnamites are a clear proxy of london at its peak and everything lovecraft spent time drooling over and they're fucking weird assholes

the curse descending upon the city isn't something that crawled out of the surrounding woods, but instead spread to them as the church started offloading refuse created by the outbreak to the surrounding impoverished areas.

even the fishing village, a clear echo of innsmouth, with their worship of kos, the great one that washed up dead on the shore (for what that's worth, because a dead god still dreams), aren't the antagonists here; instead it's byrgenwerth, pillaging the town and maiming and slaughtering the inhabitants en masse in the cold pursuit of academic knowledge

[leonw4nter]

could you do a fic for re4 leon where he and fem!reader are in a relationship (secret bc they can’t let the agency find out) they are on the spain mission together and luis starts flirting with her and its taking everything in leon for for him to not say “thats my girlfriend” or something like that?

sorry if this is specific i just thought of it in the middle of class

Music For Two People in A Secret Relationship

RE4R!Leon x F!Agent!Reader

Leon is a stickler for the rules. Well, he was– he made sure that he followed the rules he was made to obey, even when he didn’t exactly agree with them. One fine training day, you lunged at him with a combat knife, a deadly fire in your eyes and he felt the ground beneath him shift. He had to move and dodge away from the next offense, even if he wanted to give himself time to admire you. You moved like a panther, your gaze much more penetrating than the blade you held in a reverse saber grip; you embodied one too, light footfalls as you circled him before pouncing with your claws out towards the man in front of you. If giving in to the calling of his heart is a crime then he’d gladly be an outlaw.

Here he is now, dancing around the rules in order to be your boyfriend; twisting, bending, and extending his will to resist the temptation to hold your hand in the walls of the USSTRATCOM headquarters, proudly referring to you as “his” and for him to hear you call him “yours” towards colleagues and higher-ups. He had to settle for the tension-filled stares across the briefing room, the kinds of looks that set off sparks in his chest, and the electric accidental brushes of his finger against yours as he reaches for something.

Although Valdelobos is everything but idyllic, he’s thankful for the opportunity to be with you despite this decrepit village being another reminder of Raccoon City; he wouldn’t want to relive Raccoon City again but it’s less triggering for him because he’s with you … and a certain Spanish gentleman with a penchant of flirting with his girlfriend; he didn’t trust the man one bit but what choice did he have? The man held vital information regarding the villagers and Umbrella; a former scientist, Luis claimed. Despite him being a little different from the usual scientists behind BOWs, he seemed to know a lot regarding the cult and the parasite– Las Plagas. Charming and charismatic too, the perfect man all in all. He also served as the brains behind the group, oddly familiar with the puzzle mechanisms that the Los Illuminados employed.

Now, all of you were stuck in this misty baroque ballroom somewhere in Salazar’s palace. As soon as everyone was inside the room, the big wooden doors closed and several locks were heard clicking in place. Silence followed, Ashley huddled in the middle by you, Leon, and Luis’ bodies as you formed a protective circle. The fact that silence followed and not the groans and cultic chanting unsettled everyone, unused to this odd peace. After a few moments of guns being out, Luis’ Red 9 is holstered back into its brown leather confines.

“Do you smell that,” he softly whispers. “The rusty air. This ballroom was an old bastion for the Los Illuminados, held their sacrifices here but albeit more… morbid. Sacrifices were released like bulls in a bullpen, they all tried to escape while trying not to die on the way– had to escape booby traps and avoid stepping on the wrong tiles. There’s a lot more with the trap system they set up and they’re all elaborate.”

The atmosphere that hung over everyone was heavy and miserable now that Luis had to point out the history behind the room. No one stepped foot away from where they were standing, afraid to trigger something to fly out and impale someone.

“What ballroom is this,” Ashley asks.

“The Birdcage,” Luis responds. “La Jaula de Pájaros.”

“I’ve read somewhere about certain macabre ballrooms being connected to cult hide-outs and traps and usually, the ways to beat those traps is somehow connected to culture like dances and poems,” she begins to explain. “Basically, we might need to dance or make music to make it out alive for this one. Just like… just like a bird. Wait– this place’s name is ‘birdcage’ so we have to escape like birds by means of making music and moving around like how birds chirp and fly!”

“Make music? How exactly,” you ask.

“Rhythmic tapping might be one of them,” Luis suggests.

You look at the people around you, eyebrows meeting in the middle as their foreheads crease in focus and worry. Leon bent down and observed the ground, calloused fingers grazing over the cracked tiles. With each lengthy swipe of his finger, he noticed that the imprints on the ground had a pattern. He leaned closer to the ground and observed what looked like musical notes; he turned to the ground Ashley stood on and noted the same patterns of notes and symbols used.

“There’s musical notations on the ground, maybe we can use that for the rhythm of our tapping,” Leon informs the group. “Who here can read music–”

“I can,” you interrupt. You bend down, fingers skimming over the etching. After a few seconds of remembering which notes sounded a certain way, you get back up and relay the information you just got. You get everyone’s attention and start humming the tune before softly stomping your boots on the ground, asking everyone else to follow along to make sure that they remember the beat.

“Uh guys,” Ashley speaks up. “We have to start soon.”

She points to the ceiling, several ganados kept in cages dangling overhead. The ceilings may be high from where you all stood, but there was nothing separating your group and them. With a determined yet wary nod, you nod to Luis. He approaches you and bows, to which you respond with. He slowly places his hand on your waist, the other gently holding your gloved hand. You glance at Leon, seeing him do the same with Ashley with the placements of his hand in areas that don't make Ashley feel uncomfortable. You give Leon another nod, signifying the start of the dance. Your pair and Leon’s slowly drift to opposite parts of the room, dancing a fierce tango with rhythmic footfalls. You could dance but not in this way and you were lucky that Luis was there to guide you. In the drop of the beat, he spun you and for a quick moment you saw Leon glance at your direction before turning his gaze back to Ashley and making sure he doesn’t mess up his part and involve Ashley in whatever fuck-up he might make. You wouldn’t admit this to Luis but you wished that it was Leon who was spinning and dipping you, that it was the large hand of Leon’s that was perched on your waist. Maybe you’d like to go dancing with Leon once this shit is all over, maybe invite Luis too but you’ll spend most of the evening slow dancing with Leon when you’ve both had one too many drinks. You knew that Leon felt the same based on the gawking Leon unintentionally does, those types of gawks that once you blink, you’d miss and assume that you were just seeing things differently. As much as Leon admitted that Luis was a gifted dancer to his standards, he wished that he could just swoop in and swing you around, to feel your hand around his neck and for you to gaze up dreamily at you when he dips your body. It doesn’t take long for you to get into the dance, the twirls and spins along with the echo of the taps of shoes helping you get into the feel of dancing even though this dance could very much determine whether or not everyone will make it out of this ballroom.

After a few minutes of dancing, all of you finish the beat and you hear a faint click. The eyes and mouth of a tarnished Tarasca statue moves, its neck opening to reveal an ornate conical capsule. Hastily, you run to the statue and take the capsule and twist it open. An intricate copper key falls out.

“We might be able to get out of this,” Leon points out. Hurriedly, he runs to the doors and inserts the piece of metal to the keyhole.

“Careful, Sancho. This thing is brittle,” Luis reminds him. “All that dancing will be for nothing if the key snaps while it’s inside!”

“I know what I’m doing,” your partner seethes.

The faint sound of the door lock’s mechanisms clicking to unlock causes everyone to breathe a sigh of relief, Leon pushing the doors open to let everyone out before himself. You mouth a small thank you to him, to which he responds with a small smile. He finally gets out and urges everyone to run, since the cages holding the ganados were being lowered. After a few minutes, everyone is now out of the palace. All of you stop by the ruins of an old stone house, sinking to the ground to catch your breath.

“Hah… D-didn’t know… hah… you looked lovely in pink,” Luis points out with a tired yet smug smirk bringing a finger up to motion to the flush in your cheeks. “Etérea.”

The Spaniard doesn’t miss the way the blond’s gaze slightly darkens, moving to you as he places a hand on your back as you still catch your breath. You look at Leon as he asks if you’re okay, to which you give him a small smile and a thumbs-up. Leon withdraws his hand from your back to radio back to Hunnigan, giving her information on where you just came from and how everyone’s doing. Since you managed to catch your breath, you check on Ashley who’s doing a lot better now. You offer her the remaining water in your flask, to which she gulped down audibly.

“Water never tasted so divine, holy crap,” she exclaimed as she handed you your flask back.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Since you and Leon were unsure of the safety of the area, you decided that it would be best for you to start moving somewhere less dangerous. Ashley was growing tired, grumbling about her feet hurting but she was still soldering on, walking without breaks. Luis’ chatter made the trip less boring, occasionally talking to Ashley and then flirting with you. After seeing Leon’s subtle reaction to him complimenting your flushed cheeks after running, the cheeky side of Luis decided to flirt with you some more to see how far he can push the reserved and stoic man.

“Hey,” Luis begins. “After all this, what do you say to a little Spanish countryside getaway? You and me.”

“Sounds nice,” you say. “But I’ve got a little night out scheduled with someone when I get back.”

“You aren’t exactly saying ‘no’.”

“I’m going to have to confirm this with my boyfriend. You’re a chill man but I still have to let my man know.”

Luis simply chuckles, his steps slowing down so he’ll fall in step with Leon who is busy craning his head here and there, trying to spot any threat before a possible threat spots you. Well, this is only half true. As soon as he heard Luis proposing the future prospect of him showing off the Spanish countryside to you, he forced himself to pay attention to something else other than the fact that you’re smiling and laughing softly at the Spaniard. The agent brushes whatever he heard off, knowing that his girlfriend loves him and only him but the fact that he can’t do much, especially that their relationship isn’t exactly encouraged at their agency and the fact that they’re both at work; he’s relieved that you aren’t returning his flirting. All he can afford to do is to ask if you’re fine by masking it behind the simple concern for a coworker and nothing more. 

“How’re you holding up, Sancho Panza,” Luis whispers to which Leon responds with silence.

“Ah, I think I know why you’re silent,” the chatty man beside him observes. “It’s because… you like her!”

Leon stops in his tracks and looks at Luis with a slightly baffled expression, head tilted with his eyes slightly squinted before proceeding to walk again, the squelch of his boots against mud resuming again.

“I know just the remedy to this, Leon,” Luis excitedly begins, lowering his voice just before he continues the rest of his sentence. “Y’know, I know a nice bar somewhere in Madrid. Good drinks, good music. I’m sure she’d love it there.”

Leon stays silent again but mentally notes the ‘good drinks, good music’. It would be nice to take her somewhere upbeat.

“But if that’s getting a bit too ahead of our current predicament then you can offer to tend to her wounds, best done in the evening when the night is cold and the fire is the only thing keeping us warm. It’s a sincere tender moment, just imagine it: you, her, and the rustling of trees. She–”

“She’s my girlfriend. I’ve done plenty of that and more so she’d go out with me,” Leon interrupts.

Luis freezes on the spot, eyes the size of golf balls, with his mouth ajar. Leon simply smirks and scoffs at the sight, trudging on. After a few moments, Luis comes rushing back to him. Luis is just staring at him, going off at him in Spanish while he just continues walking and tries to hide a smug grin. Luis wraps up on whatever he was saying, now staring back and forth at you and him before walking a little faster to join you and Ashley several steps ahead. The usual cocky expression makes its way back to Luis’ face, shooting you and Leon a knowing look now before chuckling along. Moments later, Leon decides to speed up walking to be able to catch up with everyone. He hears Ashley and Luis exchanging jokes with you occasionally laughing and butting in with your own. Out of the blue, Leon nonchalantly wraps an arm around your waist, much to Luis and Ashley’s shock.

“Ash, don’t tell HQ about this,” you whisper with a wicked grin before getting on your tiptoes and planting a kiss on Leon's cheek.

NOTE - Thanks to the lovely anon that requested this, I hope you enjoyed reading this :) I had a lot more fun writing this since I had to think a little more than I usually do when I write (if it makes sense), especially for the ballroom part of the fic. I'll try to write for other versions of Leon soon since I mostly write about RE2 Leon. Also, does anyone know the manga 'Veil' ?? I've recently (yesterday) got into it and now I'm hoping that physical copies are being sold where I live... Aleksander is cute I'll say that (I NEED AN ALEKSANDER IN MY LIFE IM SO ALONE AND SINGLE RIGHT NOW- SINGLE SINCE BIRTH EVEN). Anyways, that's it and thank you soo much for reading my fics!! I <3333 UUUUUU !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The dividers are made by @benkeibear , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[eulogium-red]

i'd like to see more of the theme of "family" in overwatch. we see it a lot with ana & fareeha, ram & zen, brig/torb/rein/bastion, genji & hanzo. but those are the obvious ones between playable characters. the ones that are much more clearly written on the wall, even once-in-a-blue-moon players could pick up on. much else is hardly focused on despite how much family (or a lack thereof) has shaped many of the character's lives & identities for better or for worse

i don't like how martina & the unnamed reyes kid are only mentioned in passing, despite gabriel himself visiting often unannounced. clearly they were an important part of his life. clearly, family is an important part of his life — i'm very willing to wager that small passage about the death of his parents in declassified was written very intentionally. his complicated relationship with death, and how it was further affected by his own "death," & how he's now in some warped reversed position with his new family. but we don't get much more than a few voice lines about martina (is she even mentioned by name in-game orrr am i not remembering?)

i want to see how ashe manages the gang throughout the second omnic crisis. or perhaps we could see her mannerisms slightly change with bob. maybe instead of standing side-by-side with him as she is in the reunion cinematic, she puts herself more between him & potential unrealised threats. or maybe she subtly tries to nudge him under awnings whenever she spots ufos, weary they're housing subjugators — little things that are very intentional. maybe her demeanor tilts ever so slightly from confident but guarded, to guarded but confident.

i want to get a better picture of the role sam english played in fareeha's life just from playing the game, especially after ana's presumed death. i want to know more about their relationship other than the christmas dinner they had. i wonder how many players just assume fareeha's father died young, or assume the writers didn't care to write one at all? for a long time, i thought the former. i wonder what sam thinks of some of fareeha's closest friends — has he met cole & angela? what does he think of helix? we hardly even see fareeha's native heritage expressed other than the two skins off the top of my head

what about cassidy & echo? i know this is a more implied one, but cassidy was the first one to nurture her "childlike intelligence." even today, he guides her — he encouraged her to help winston&co at paris when he was still on the fence. one of the cutest things for me is her enthusiastically shouting "hello winston!" mid-battle, presumably not long after cassidy told her to say hi. she probably would've either way, but i also don't want to discredit the role cassidy has had on her development & i really do want to see more of them

or, speak of the devil, how winston views everyone at overwatch as family. how in watchpoint: gibraltar's 1st defense spawn, you can see the little beds he set up for lena and mei, how you can read an email as proof he got the blankets from a small kids blanket business. the way he keeps photos of the gang, years later. how vehemently protective he was of all their locations. i wish we could see it reciprocated a little more, i wish we could see individual sleeping areas for other heroes as the story progresses, or more items on his desk. & that's not even getting into hammond

& i don't think i can have a family post without mentioning dad 76 or how i desperately want to see benicio being the best supportive dad for lúcio more but honestly i'm getting pretty sleepy so either i'll add more later or someone can add more.

depending how you stretch the definition of family here, it can include other dynamics too. baptiste finding a new sense of belonging in the new overwatch, or mei braving the antarctic to not let her team's death go in vain & to help people who can still be helped — from jiayi and her team still on mars, to the people who now need her help on earth. i'd also argue hana's squad in korea. what are niran's siblings up to? are we gonna see more of efi & orisa? moreover, how are all these non-playable side character characters handling the invasion? i guess we got some texts between lena and emily

family is such a powerful motivator, but can also be really complicated, as seen with the amaris and shimadas + kiriko, i wish we got a similar amount of investment some other places too

a major theme of overwatch is moving towards the future, progressing in some way. & that looks different for everyone depending on their emotional readiness to do that, and what they view "progression" as. so it makes sense a lot of characters don't look back on those they lost along the way so much, at least not too openly (zarya comes to mind), but that's what can make their present relationships with others that much more worth preserving & seeing

probably an impossible ask of a game feeling the effects of layoffs that's primarily focused on pvp/bp/shop items but ykn

thank u for coming to my tedtalk

[tragedy-of-commons]

kuras x reader. wc ≤ 1k.

You could kill him right now.

That thought to most, including the subject of your gaze, is no doubt concerning. However, around these parts, the modus operandi of every drunkard, street performer, Bloodhound or Monster is a resounding kill or be killed. 

The fabled Dr. Kuras of Lowtown doesn’t snore. What else would you expect? The pinnacle of propriety, the man mounted upon his high horse (that still stoops low enough to extend a helping hand), the magnanimous genius at rest. Thick eyelashes graze the apples of his cheeks, broad shoulders normally drawn taut now lowered with the rise and fall of his chest.

Your second thought cuts through all rationality: He shouldn’t be that pretty.

…well, you suppose that’s not all that irrational. Being easy on the eyes around these parts can be disarming; it can earn you a place to stay for the night, salacious stares, and most importantly, a favorable perception among shallow people. For you, Kuras falls in the middle. His character doesn’t disarm you, it instead makes your hackles raise - but just enough to prevent you from gutting him.

Such a stupid predicament. 

It isn’t like him to not be on his feet. He’s always ushering patients in and out, acting only mildly offended when offered payment, before conducting his own personal business. This is alluded to by noncommittal anecdotes or pure, direct confrontation if you catch him in the act.

(Nothing incriminating, of course; Kuras is not a criminal. People-watching, conversation with an odd acquaintance here or there, playing coy with Senobium alumni that still beg for his insight. All legal and a far-cry from what he thinks is wrong.)

Everyone seems to be in majority agreement that Dr. Kuras must be good. There will always be distrusting, twice-shy folks like you, but he’s practically the legs that the injured and ill stand on so confidently. He’s inclined to prove all of his detractors wrong while still keeping them at arm's length. 

Having said that, what the hell is going on?

Napping in one of his chairs, slumped against the backrest with you visiting, is not arm’s length behavior. It’s too close, too trusting, and it makes you sick. And not in the way that can be remedied, either! 

You could kill him right now, but you won’t. The stubborn part of you reasons that it’s broad daylight outside, anyone could come knocking - but your mature counterpart singsongs that it’s because you have a huge, hulking crush! What a childish word used to downplay your cautious intrigue--

Kuras stirs. Right.

You’re not sure what his motivations were, inviting you back here. Running into one another at a grubby food vendor, your first instinct was to book it - but of course he’d seen you and called out your name with a warm timbre to his voice, parting the crowd with his presence alone. Never let it be said that you didn’t try to deny Dr. Kuras.

But he’d said something about wanting you to test some kind of new treatment. You’re an interesting patient, plus you’d do quite well for such short notice. I’d appreciate it greatly.

Then you were following him back on familiar cobbles, shadowed by his almost Herculean height. The new treatment wasn’t anything to write home about - ointment, experimental. In Eridia, the last bastion of humanity, you’d almost expected something more magical in nature. Serves you right for assuming, because even after the trial run, you found yourself locked into a battle of wits with the doctor himself.

Chess is not your forte, and the abandoned board reflects that nicely. Kuras almost has you in check, playing white (resembling that pristine coat) with you playing black. You’d clocked the timer to ask for some fresh air, contemplating your life decisions as it were, before stepping outside. It was a short reprieve, must’ve been only ten minutes or so.

Returning from your recess, you were met with a very sleepy Dr. Kuras.

Loathe as you are to care, that can’t be comfortable. How tired must he be, to fall into slumber, completely at your behest, likely causing mild damage to his posture? The light filtering through the raised windows above the sanitation station and various supplies illuminates more of his visage as the sun sinks lower into the sky.

You take your seat, owlishly staring at him like one would a jarred specimen. Dr. Kuras looks more exhausted the closer you scrutinize his condition - it’s easier now that you’re free of a piercing but sincere amber gaze - diligently spotting the telltale dark circles and chapped lips.

…and to think he scolds patients for the negligence of their health. What a guy. You want to severely maim him as a little treat. He doesn’t surrender many of his secrets as peace offerings, but this is pretty close; your whirlwind of thoughts are dominated by top notes of rubbing alcohol and herbs, giving way to bittersweet regret and something surely unattainable.

In Eridia, if you don’t have something, you’ll perish chasing it.

With that in mind, you still stick around a bit longer. It’s a slow day, the doctor is asleep at your mercy, and you scramble the dormant pawns and queens and rooks around to ensure your victory. When Kuras wakes, he’ll be left at a loss.

(You will be as well, considering you’ll be bereft of company, but that should not sting as much as it does. No one is ever as they seem, and no companionship is ever permanent.)

Even so, you toss a thin sheet over his lap after ripping it off one of the nearby cots. It’s flimsy, frivolous, and his coat provides more protection from the cold, but you do it all the same.

Kuras does not so much as stir as you slip out into the street, instead opening his eyes fully without a hint of bleariness as the sidedoor clicks shut. It’s as if he’d never been asleep at all. Swallowing, the doctor’s gaze falls to his lap, pinching the thin sheet with deft fingers. 

“No one is ever as they seem,” he echoes similarly, aloud to no one but himself.

[luxmoogle]

Imagine all the trust issues Sora might’ve had after Donald and Goofy ditched him during Hollow Bastion. They literally never apologized for that as far as I’m aware.

It's not only that, in KH1 especially it's quite hammered in that Sora feels inferior to everyone else. The whole beginning on The Island he's being compared to Riku and being belittled by all the other kids.. So he wants to prove himself and is in constant serious/not so serious rivalry with Riku, who is the strong one.

Sora get's asked a few questions that have a mild impact on your stats throughout the game, but certain answers have been considered the 'correct' (at least used to be) answers making Sora as strong as he can be, and one of those answers about what's important to him is 'To be number one'. The need for validation is constantly in the back of his head. Not being good enough.

The rest of the series also hints towards Sora's insecurities, the scene in Hollow Bastion being a catalyst to the whole 'my friends are my power' spiel.. Sora believing that he can't make it on his own, but he can with his friends.

Alone he's nothing.