#again it's just the core Idea behind the two that's comparable

[sunlitmcgee]

you know, I just realized something about why the memory loss in the finale specifically hurts. It's because it's essentially the mental illness/trauma version of the "disabled character gets a magical cure for their disability" trope.

[lunarw0rks]

which one of the boys fits this scenario?

play fighting but things get kinda heated so now they’re fucking you from behind while having you in a headlock 😭🥹

a/n: hm... my mind immediately went to gaz ;) anon u have a big brain, this awakened something... though I only see this happening if you two were in some kind of relationship other than platonic.

☾𓂃❛🍰❜┊ training in progress

warning(s): explicit content (18+), established relationship, p^rn w/ little plot, p in v sex, primal play??, size kink if you squint, breath play, degradation + praise, unsafe sex, fem!reader, no use of y/n

word count: 900 ♡ masterlist // requests // ask box

bf!gaz who always took his time with you, but wasn't afraid to give newer, more rash things a try. he thought about it before, though it seemed he was waiting for you to pitch the idea first. or more so... an opportunity.

bf!gaz who for once, wasn't thinking of those desires tonight. the two of you were "sparring" on the living room floor. well, more like; kyle pinning you with ease, taunting you, and then giving you seconds to flee.

bf!gaz who gave you a few seconds to crawl away and attempt to restrict his arms in any way. you kicked your legs into his toned abdomen, earning merely a grunt that only plunged him closer. ❝no, you don't!❞ gaz grunted, giving your legs a whack while twisting your torso; forcing you onto your stomach.

bf!gaz who snaked an arm around you, your neck pinned by the strength of his arm; a successful headlock. he had just now figured out he had his golden opportunity. what could you do, besides voice an actual refusal? which of course, hadn't happened yet. kyle grimaced to himself, other hand slithering down your stomach, soon finding the inside of your panties.

bf!gaz who both degraded and praised you for being aroused, ❝so fuckin' wet for me, good girl.❞ all he had done was wrestle with you and you had soaked your panties. perhaps it was all the grunting, the taunting, or how your legs found their way around his waist after each relentless pin he had you in. in other words, twenty minutes of pent-up sexual tension, disguised by a playful sparring session.

bf!gaz who wasted no time practically yanking your bottoms off you, all while your back has been against his chest, a helpless squirm to get out of the hold — yet no refusing the idea of him fucking you like this. his clothed erection, pressing against your rear, it only remained clothed for seconds, before kyle sprung it from his boxers.

bf!gaz who gave you no time to adjust to him, because he knew you would be good for him. his cock, dripping with pre-cum — guided with force into you slick core, before he began to thrust like it was the last time he'd ever be inside you. ❝such a slag, i bet you're enjoyin' this, aren't you?❞

bf!gaz who couldn't accept moans or whines as an answer. at least not tonight. the headlock you were in tightened, until you could barely suck in oxygen, ❝asked you a question.❞ he hissed into your ear, thrusting even rougher, as if to enhance his taunts.

bf!gaz who loosened his grip once he heard your attempt at a formal answer, smirking at every stammer in your sentence. though, despite you doing so well, this headlock was too enhancing to remove you from. kyle's full length, bottomed out inside you with each rut into your cunt, rasps growing in frequency and volume.

bf!gaz who was using his strength to his advantage, using you as if you were his own personal toy tonight — to be manipulated into whatever position he desired until he finished. ❝don't whine, you asked for this. christ... can't believe this is all mine.❞ his forearm dug into your neck again, like a python had slithered around your throat. he was close, seconds from spilling his seed inside you.

bf!gaz whose groans were insignificant compared to the sounds of skin slapping echoing through the living room, combined with your incoherent babbling and gasps for air.

bf!gaz who knew he would cum in seconds, using his pressing weight to pin you against the floor, head raised from the hold. ❝gonna cum inside this cunt, make it mine, hm?❞ you were seeing ebony spots, but so deep in pleasure that it didn't matter. if anything, the constriction was only tightening the sensation of his pounding thrusts.

bf!gaz who came so hard he had to slow down, muscles tensing to the max — probably the last squeeze you could handle without passing out. his thrusts halted as he spurted his seed deep inside you, draining every last drop, a drawn-out curse right into your ear as his climax concluded.

bf!gaz who pulled out of you to watch the semen drip out of your cunt, down your legs, and some on the hardwood. you were out of the headlock, catching the breath you had lost while on your hands and knees. the act dropped when he asked if you were alright, earning a nod of approval from your fucked-out self — all you could muster. unlike earlier, a silent answer was more than acceptable.

... bf!gaz who wasn't done yet. he stroked himself for a few moments, then guided his cock into you again, re-inserting all the evidence of his last climax right back into you. it was near overstimulation, being rutted into all over again.

bf!gaz who went gradually this time; moderately paced thrusts into your cunt during the second round, holding your waist tenderly. this time no restriction on your airflow or your replies to his traunts and praises.

bf!gaz who kissed your clothed shoulder blades, sinking into the fabric of your shirt to hold his pace accountable. kyle felt the pool of wetness forming around his length — some slick from before, some from now, and some lubricant being his own seed. each agonizing thrust met with a wettened squelch from your soaked and core.

bf!gaz who knew you must be filled to the brim by now, literally and figuratively, but needed to cum again. this time, with less brute force. ❝so fuckin' good, sweetheart,❞ his methodical rutting continued, enough to make your eyes half-lidded. kyle's rhetocial question, answered by himself, and only himself; ❝should i make you cum this time? i think you've earned it.❞

[lxmelle]

Sometimes people interpret Gojo’s “chasing after Geto” and the theme of “love” adopted from Yorozu as signs of Gojo trying to find love with Sukuna.

It is true they had fun and Gojo had an all-out battle, I think it was more of Gojo being true to Gojo: It was an extension of chasing Geto.

I say this with moderately reserved conviction because his Character Book pretty much confirms that there is no one particularly significant besides Geto. There is literally Geto everywhere. Everywhere. Some people on X were joking that Geto’s position in the relationship chart is comparable to a “wife’s position” and asking, “is this a Geto Suguru character book?”

In terms of preferences, too:

Even the preference for dogs - seems to point towards being due to Geto. Not a dog from Megumi’s ten shadows’ divine dogs. The picture shown was a dog Gojo never even canonically met. Linked to a person he also did not canonically meet.

I was probably slow on the uptake, but I only recently realised that Takeru (the dog) in that scene was actually Geto - mistakenly assumed by the old man, leading to his easy defeat.

What sorcery it was, we have no idea. The only best friend thing also seemed like a Gojo & Geto parallel.

Anyway. In this sense, Geto was Gojo’s Takeru. Seeing Geto got him sealed in the prison realm. Uhm, yeah. And it’s true that Gojo is said by Gege to seem more cat-like, being “pretty” and a little solitary, but is someone who likely prefers dogs, Gege thinks, so we can see how he has changed to become more of a dog person - even in characteristics, after Geto’s influence who had lived for others rather than for itself (as what a cat might do). Or, it could be that he just prefers dogs because Geto was once mistaken as a dog. Lol.

The beach - this is also something related to Geto. (The sheltered Gojo probably didn’t have much time to do leisurely stuff. We end up liking places based on experiences we had, and the best experiences he had were with Geto. Naturally, he loves the beach due to Okinawa.)

And the last Q pictured in the image above says Gojo changed after Geto left in that he became more responsible for the next generation. Killing the higher-ups was also related especially after what happened during his time in the prison realm. Not killing them before was related to Geto - he had committed to not killing without a strong meaning/purpose. So when strategy and meaning/purpose aligned, Gojo “chased after” Geto who had “left him behind” because he couldn’t afford to walk that moral path any longer - for the future generation of sorcerers that he and Geto fought so hard to protect with their literal blood sweat and tears. And Gojo never had a real moral issue with killing.

So yes. Doesn’t it just make sense that Gojo approached Sukuna’s fight with two motives - one for himself and one for Geto? To have an all out brawl that his monstrous side desires (I’ve said it before: it would be soooo unfulfilling to never ever find someone you can go all out with. Like, forced to walk when you were born to sprint?!?) and to reach him with compassion/empathy as was shown to him by no other than Geto (who was very much a part of him)? Gojo was far too single-minded to want a new lover. C’mon. Give the yearner some credit. Gojo really was loyal to the core… he felt left behind for years and the character song for Geto was literally Gojo saying he wanted Geto to return to him somehow before it was too late.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again... the place of a partner, cannot be replaced by that of others who are in the category of children, students, or even friends - especially if you have shared a connection so deep that you consider that person a special, “one and only” irreplaceable being.

Megumi has also mutually not placed Gojo as someone particularly special to him. It is really a relationship that is not more than their sensei. I’d be highly disturbed if my sensei or teacher of any capacity loved me to the degree of some of the headcanons out there. Sorry to say. If that is your fantasy, or a form of an AU - that’s ok - I just see it as not canon. That is all. The facts, signs and evidence just … plain & simply are not there. Gojo cared in the capacity of being a teacher. That is it. Some of the unfinished business he had in 236 was carried over from the HI arc and regarding his personal philosophy over death.

So yes, Gojo understood Sukuna as a monster who knew strength & isolation. But his battle and other desire to teach / reach him was another extension of catching up.

So, rather than trying to find a new “love” with Sukuna, I see it as an ultimate form of growth & character development for Gojo - he was changed and felt the empathy that Geto showed him & tried to teach it to someone else who was similarly, stronger than him (as Gojo was to Geto).

And of course Gojo did get a kick out of the battle and to be acknowledged by a peer (as a monster). Imagine you’re Serena Williams and you have to accept just being fulfilled by your husband and never play tennis? Some things are just separate. The fulfilment Gojo gained was not necessarily related to Geto. Just like how following his principles down his dark path had to be done on his own for Geto. It had no bearing on his love for Gojo. And vice versa.

Nevertheless, it seems apt that it was within Gojo to find the desire to resolve two halves of himself through the battle. His loneliness wasn’t quite the same as Sukuna’s I think. Especially since Gojo knew love and companionship.

I think Gojo matured rather well. Or at least, I headcanon that Geto would say so.

The lesson that Sukuna needed to learn is not comparable to that between Gojo & Geto, therefore it wasn’t something Gojo could teach alone. Sukuna had no backstory tied to Gojo and it wasn’t like Gojo was trying to do that with him. Otherwise Gojo would have that afterlife “talk” with Sukuna, rather than his soul heading straight for Geto. Even if it was a delusion, are you telling me that him dreaming of Geto to comfort himself isn’t significant enough to tell us something? Sob 😭

The rest is for Yuji & everyone to forge the revision of the jujutsu world. Yuji is the one with the relationship with both Sukuna and his vessel, Megumi.

Keep calm and carry on the good work, Yuji... Hang in there Megumi.

[general-cyno]

it's dressrosa time for more zolu rambles. there were some really good and funny bits like zoro being (unsurprisingly) on board with luffy's idea of fighting the emperors

luffy charging right after zoro when he gets his sword stolen bc it looks fun (though he ends up in the tournament instead)

zoro getting absolutely sidetracked from his very important mission of going back to the sunny to help the others bc he saw luffy participating in the tournament, then again when he saw luffy in person (he wanted to be invited too!)

luffy happily and without hesitation agreeing to zoro's crazy plan for the lift

cheers to luffy's casual, unwavering faith in zoro!

zoro just letting luffy do whatever he wants and manhandle him around with a simple "yeah sure where we going" compared to law who is decidedly Not Even Remotely Used to this kind of treatment

their gremlin braincell once again shining through as they both laugh at pica (much to law's continuous exasperation)

I also liked how confidently luffy decided and told zoro he'd continue ahead while zoro chose to stay behind and deal with pica, yet again demonstrating luffy's casual but firm trust that zoro can handle things and protect others in his stead, while he takes care of the biggest threats. zoro's own taunting and smug "our captain wants nothing to do with a pebble like you, so you have to make do with me" at pica was good too lol.

when zoro finally defeats pica and side characters, in awe of his strength, are baffled that someone so powerful is luffy's "henchman"? also peak.

two other things I enjoyed, albeit not necessarily involving zoro and luffy directly, were:

- zoro taking the lead, attempting to stop doflamingo's birdcage by force and doing so by asking for ppl's help (showcasing his willingness to guide as much as rely on others when it's needed) which drove folks to actively follow him in a similar fashion to how they tend to do with luffy. in a way, zoro's determination uplifted ppl's spirits + the whole thing helped keep civilians and others safe while luffy recuperated enough to finish off doflamingo. it's no wonder zoro was one of the few straw hats to stay behind in dressrosa, since that's the kind of feat someone like him (as luffy's first mate/second in command) can accomplish. really highlights zoro's role in the crew and why luffy's belief in zoro's reliability, of him being able to handle dire situations and protect ppl on his own without luffy having to worry abt/over him is a recurring and important part of their overall relationship. usopp desperately asking zoro to save him back during the pica ordeal and hugging him afterwards in relief as other characters thanked him too, was a funny and sweet way to acknowledge this as well.

- this interaction between luffy and rebecca:

can't say whether it was intentional or not, (probably not since these chapters are wildly apart from each other) but it made me think of luffy and zoro's first meeting, and how luffy ultimately decided to make zoro part of his crew after he asked to be fed the stomped riceballs and for luffy to tell rika they were delicious. these two are so very similar on a fundamental level, even if they still retain certain differences and distinct approaches depending on the situation, and it was nice to see another reminder of it. both luffy and zoro are, at their core, strong and kind characters (though in a curiously selfish manner) who don't hesitate to acknowledge and repay the kindness they're offered in turn. imo it's cool how these shared traits have allowed them to understand and stay alongside each other to this point.

edit: forgot to mention but sabo entrusting the crew with luffy's safety and giving them luffy's vivre card (handing it to zoro specifically) as zoro fondly remarks how he resembled ace back in alabasta was just. really really good as well. esp when you consider how much the crew loves luffy, and what zoro himself has done to protect him.

[suzukiblu]

d5 a9 for yj core four please?

“Help me,” Tim instructs, beckoning Cassie over to the mats, then amends–“Actually, no, help Kon. Keep his knees up for me. Maybe sit on his face, give him something to do with himself.” 

“Fuck,” Kon mutters, his face blazingly red. Cassie's too busy trying to reboot her brain to really say anything herself. 

“Mrgh,” is about the best she manages. 

“Can't he just, like, fly them up or whatever? TTK ‘em?” Bart asks, peering curiously over Tim's shoulder and down at Kon's already-spread thighs where he's laid out in front of the two of them, suit stripped off but still in his boots and gloves and jacket and all his belts and straps. That was also Tim's idea, along with what he wants Cassie to “help” Kon keep his knees up for. 

“I don't really think he's going to have the concentration,” Tim replies simply, and picks up the shiny, polished metal plug he has very clear intentions for. It's . . . not small. That's just how Cassie's gonna describe it right now. 

“Ohmygod,” Kon mumbles, and half-lifts his hands like he's about to cover his furiously blushing face. Cassie does have her Robin-issued orders, though, and they all agreed Tim was gonna be the one facilitating the scene tonight, so she moves forward to straddle it before he can. Kon makes a fervently appreciative but also fervently strangled noise and grabs onto her thighs instead. 

She leans forward down his body and grabs his thighs, hooking her hands behind his knees to pull them up as she settles herself down cunt-to-mouth with him. She’s the obvious choice to do this, given their comparative strength levels and the fact Tim and Bart literally couldn’t keep Kon from accidentally jerking out of their respective grips, but something about pulling a guy’s legs up for something like this is, well . . . 

Listen, Cassie is very much a person who considers literally any form of gender-based power plays to be ridiculous bullshit, but she isn’t gonna pretend she doesn’t have any thoughts about that kind of thing in the bedroom, alright? Or–well, training room, today, but that’s besides the point here. 

She is not immune to the effects of being the one making a man built like a brick factory spread his legs for the express purpose of taking a very, very big toy, that’s all. 

“Does it vibrate or anything?” she asks a little breathlessly as she glances down at the plug Tim’s still idly turning in his hand, because Kon's already kissing her cunt wet and eager and digging his fingers into her thighs. 

He is also, maybe, not immune to this situation. 

So that’s a thought to be thinking, definitely.

“What's it matter?” Bart asks, and taps the base of the plug with buzzing fingers and a smug grin. “I do.” 

“I don't really think standard human-oriented vibrators would keep up with a Kryptonian libido as well as a speedster could,” Tim muses conversationally, and Kon groans against Cassie’s lips and then licks in deep between them. She huffs, and rolls her hips a little; grinds down just a bit tighter against his mouth. “And Bart doesn't run out of batteries as easy as those do either.” 

“. . . so does that mean I get to prep him?” Bart asks speculatively, his eyes gleaming at the idea, and Kon chokes on another rough little groan. Cassie hisses through her teeth and reflexively tugs his knees up higher, pulling his thighs farther apart as she does to give Tim and Bart both an unobstructed view of and unobstructed access to everything Kon's got. 

“Sure, if you want,” Tim says mildly. “I just want to see how long he can wear it before he starts begging for Cassie to give him the strap again. That was fun to watch last time. Definitely worth having to replace the bed.” 

Cassie glances down at the plug again and bites her lip, but . . . 

“None of mine are anywhere near that big,” she reminds him, and Tim smiles back at her. 

“Actually you've got a bigger one now,” he informs her casually. “Took forever to get enough promethium for it, but it's definitely not human-oriented.” 

“Oh my god,” Kon groans again, the words muffled into Cassie's cunt while she's too busy burning alive to figure out any coherent words of her own. A shudder goes up his thighs under her hands, and her first instinct is to dig her fingers in and make him spread them even wider, enough that he definitely feels the stretch.

Kon whines.

“Oh,” Cassie croaks, and feels her cunt drip into his mouth.

“Grifing hell,” Bart mutters feelingly as he snatches up the lube with already-buzzing fingers and pops the lid too fast to track. Tim's eyes gleam as bright as the polished metal of the plug he's holding, or maybe as bright as that metal will gleam once it's all slicked-up and ready to make Kon beg for her to fuck him.

Or maybe as bright as promethium slicked up just the same way.

Probably none of them are immune to this situation, yeah, Cassie reflects, and exhales a little rougher.

"Color?" Tim checks reflexively, glancing down between Kon's trembling, held-open thighs with an appreciative heat in the back of his eyes, and Cassie doesn't know if a single one of them has ever said "green" so fast in their lives.

[thecampjuicebox]

Hi! I would absolutely love shameless smut Astarion x f!Tav (or f!reader) with some oral ministrations ^-^

Hi sweets! Your wish is my commend! I've been waitin' for this one. *cracks knuckles* Let's do this.

Hunger

Pairing: Tav(f) x Astarion

POV: 2nd person (Reader is Tav)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut, masturbation, oral (f/m giving/receiving), biting, choking, Dom Astarion x Sub Tav, gentle face slapping

Sleep eludes you this particular night, your brain running through the recent events of the past few days. The nautiloid, the tadpoles, gathering this seemingly harmless band of misfits, it's all so.. Strange. Before waking up in the grasp of the mindflayers, your life was simple. A merchant and artist in Baldur's Gate. During the day, you were peddling your wares to the higher society of the city, making a name for yourself amongst the lords and ladies. You specialized in jewelry, mostly. Adorning the necks of the wealthy with the finest jewels Faerun has to offer. You breathe slowly, eyelashes fluttering at the memory. You'd had your fair share of meetings with some of the most eligible fellows in the upper city because of your line of work. Each one of them powerful, wealthy. Insanely wealthy. You've danced with Lordlings, held hands with Dukes, even been bedded by a magistrate or two. None of them compared to the pale skinned elf you happened to pick up after the crash. Astarion. He's so.. Different. Your mind reels at the very idea of him and you fidget in your bedroll.

Tired eyes snap open at the sudden sound of shuffling beside you, the sight of that very elf leaning over you with fangs bared sending you into a daze. He widens his eyes at you, backing away slowly. "Shit." You hurry to your feet, taking a defensive stance towards the intruder. He blinks at you innocently.

"I-It's not what it looks like! I swear!"

Crossing your arms over your chest, you eye him for a moment, waiting for some sort of explanation.

"I wasn't going to hurt you.. I just need, well, blood."

Shit. You stare at him blankly for a moment, mind racing. It all makes so much sense now. His lack of appetite, his blatantly obvious sneaking off at night, the dead boar your group found on the bridge to the Blighted Village. Perfectly drained of blood from no more than two little pinholes in its neck. Of course. He's a vampire. You pause for a moment, considering the implications of your discovery. Heat travels down your spine and stings in your core. You stand firm, furrowing your eyebrows to seem angrier than you really are.

"I can't believe I didn't see it. We even found your last meal lying in the road. Clever of you to act so naïve about the situation. Bravo."

His posture straightens and he places his hands on his hips, lips curving into that devilish grin that makes your knees week. The vampire quirks an eyebrow at you then drags his eyes down your body before meeting your eyes again. His intense gaze makes you shiver. Picking at your fingernails, you chew your bottom lip nervously and kick your foot at the dirt beneath you. Astarion drums his fingers against his hip bones.

"I usually feed on animals. Boars, Kobolds, whatever I can find really. But right now I'm too slow. Too weak. If I could just have a little blood.. I could fight better."

You nod slowly and weigh your options. This could help him. You need him strong to fight the massive hoards of enemies you and your group seem to continuously encounter. What's a little bite? You smirk at your next thought, cheeks unknowingly burning hot the moment the idea crosses your mind. You'll also have the chance to be deliciously close to the vampling. No, don't think like that. The tadpole squirms with excitement in your brain, making you wince slightly at the sudden movement behind your eyes. You sigh and straighten your posture.

"Fine. But not a drop more than you need."

"What? I- Okay. Yes. Perfectly reasonable. Shall we make ourselves comfortable?"

Astarion motions towards his dimly lit tent and you nod, keeping a death grip on your bottom lip between your teeth. His hand rests at the small of your back to guide you into the cramped living space, the gentle yet dominant gesture making your knees nearly buckle underneath you. His breath is warm on your ear. "Lie down." Without hesitation, you lower yourself knees first to his bedroll, a quiet growl rumbling in the vampire's chest as he watches you closely. You choke back a quiet whimper, clearing your throat quickly. Astarion moves next to you and smiles, giving your shoulder a gentle push to lower you the rest of the way to the plush surface beneath you. A trembling hand moves up to cup the back of your head.

"Stay still for me.."

Before you can respond the vampire bares his fangs, moving in to plunge them deep into the sensitive flesh of your neck. Icy hot pain courses through you, each vein in your body simultaneously burning. You whimper up into Astarion's ear. The hand on the back of your head tightens its grip, holding onto your soft hair now. Your mouth falls open at the tension on the back of your head. "A-Astarion.." Is all you can say as his tongue laps at the fresh wounds on your neck, little grunts of enjoyment vibrating your skin. You mewl at the new sensation and grab a fistful of his shirt, desperately pulling him closer to you. He finally breaks contact with your neck, gazing down at you with drunken eyes.

"Gods, you're.. Delicious.."

Little black spots speckle your vision as you try to focus on Astarion's face, a woozy feeling rushing over you suddenly. He must've been starving, he's basically drained you and left you on empty. Your heart thumps in your ears. Soft hands push the hair from your face before resting on your cheeks, giving the now sickly pale skin a few little gentle slaps. A devilish grin thins your lips.

"That was incredible. I feel incredible."

...

Late night feedings have become a regular thing for you and Astarion. You reveled in the intimate way he'd hold you close to him to ensure you wouldn't move, hand tangling in your hair to keep your neck steady. It left you needy every single time, often excusing yourself to a secluded part in the woods to relieve the urges, the freedom to be as loud as you want. Tonight is one of those nights.

Astarion stands and wipes his lips with the back of his hand, licking the remnants of your blood carefully from his skin. He groans happily before helping you back to your feet. You smile and say your goodbyes quickly, dashing out of the tent. He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for your footsteps to fall silent before peaking his head out of his tent, scanning around for you. He spots you ducking into the woods and pure curiosity wills him to follow. "Where in the hells is she going?" Astarion slinks out of his tent and picks up on your scent like a lost dog, carefully following your trail. He crouches low, making sure to leave a decent amount of distance between you so you don't detect his presence.

You tip toe through the thick foliage, leaves quietly crunching under your boots. Stopping in your usual clearing, you sigh heavily, carefully scoping out the area for any intruders before lowering yourself to the ground. Shaky fingers unlace your boots and kick them off in a rush, fumbling with the ties on your shirt. You groan with anticipation and fling the garment to the side, standing up to quickly shimmy out of your leathers. Goosebumps raise all over your pale skin at the cool night air and you slide out of your underwear last, a sticky puddle of arousal staining the fabric. You toss those aside, eyes doing another once-over of the land. No one in sight. You lean against a large oak tree and stare up at the sky, gulping down the massive lump in your throat. You're so desperate for release. So needy. So wet. You close your eyes and allow your fingers to travel over your chest, little whimpers escaping your dry throat as you carefully circle your painfully erect nipples. You give one a pinch, grinding your hips at the air. "F-Fuck.."

Astarion breeches the thick line of trees and enters the clearing quietly, eyes roaming the area in search of you. He catches a glimpse of your boots and smirks, gaze flicking to your pile of clothes. "The little devil." His pointy ears perk up at your moan and he leans in the direction of the sound, holding his breath for a moment to listen even closer. Stifling a moan of his own, he moves towards the tree you're leaning against, eyes fixed on your profile. Without noticing the intruder, your fingers slide down your abdomen, muscles flexing at the feather light touch before hungrily dipping between your folds. You tilt your head higher, jaw falling open as you collect your arousal on your fingers and carefully shimmy your feet further apart to give yourself more room to work. Your knees buckle, your belly aches with desire, your skin burns for attention. Astarion moves in closer, the sound of his shuddering breath causing you to freeze. Your eyes snap open.

"W-who's there? I swear to the gods above, I'll kill you."

The vampire moves into view, tongue flicking out over his bottom lip to moisten the skin. He steps in front of you, placing both hands on the tree to trap you between his body and the tall oak. You gaze up at him, blinking in embarrassment.

"Having all of this fun without me, pet? I'm hurt."

"I.. I just.. Didn't want to bother you with asking. Wasn't sure you'd be interested?"

"Hmph. May I?"

You nod quickly at his question, pushing your hips forward. Astarion tuts, reaching a hand down to rub over your sensitive mound, earning a strained moan. He leans in close to your ear, exhaling slowly before biting at your lobe, a low growl building in his belly.

"At least you had the decency to consider my feelings. How sweet of you."

He presses a single digit to your clit and rubs slow circles, cooing into your ear after each of your whimpers as he gradually picks up speed. Both of your hands find the front of his shirt and give it a rough tug to pull him closer to you, hips bucking up against his touch. He licks a slow, hot stripe up the side of your neck, the still fresh bite mark stinging from his saliva. You chew your lip for a moment, releasing the flesh to whisper up at him.

"May I touch you?"

His fingers pause at your words and he stares down at you, expression melting into one of almost sadness. No one has ever asked to touch him as sweetly as you just did. He's so used to being just a body, a toy. Someone for people to play with as they please. Tears well up in the corners of his eyes and he blinks them away quickly. You back yourself against the tree and wait for his response, hands resting at your sides, The vampire nods down at you, mumbling a soft "Please." You flash a sweet smile up at him, placing your hands on his chest and slowly sliding them down his slender body, falling to your knees. He gasps at the touch, head tilting up towards the sky. A hand instinctively rests on the back of your head.

"If at any point you get uncomfortable, please tell me and I'll stop, okay?"

He beams down at you, bottom lip quivering. You quickly undo the lacing on his leathers and press gentle kisses to his already stiff cock through the fabric, Astarion grasping a handful of your hair in response. You giggle to yourself and tug his leathers down carefully. "Mm.." His eyes darken with lust. He tugs your hair to tilt your head up, forcing you to look at him. His hand leaves your hair and circles around your neck, fingers fitting perfectly in the subtle indents just below your jawline. You grunt at the sudden restriction of air.

"Such a good pet. So obedient for me. I want you to touch yourself while I fuck your throat. Can you do that?"

You groan and nod up at him, face turning red from the lack of oxygen. He releases your neck, giving your cheek a gentle slap before grasping your jaw firmly, fingers sliding upwards to squish your cheeks together.

"Good girl."

You mewl at the roughness of his hands, cunt dripping onto your thick thighs. He releases your face and frees his cock from the constricting leather. You part your knees and slide a hand down between them, fingers swirling around in the mess. Astarion grasps his cock in his hand, giving it a few pumps before pressing the weeping tip to your lips, swiping the pre-cum around your cheeks and mouth.

"Open."

You obey happily, parting your lips and letting your tongue lull out, a thin line of drool falling onto your chest. The vampire taps his throbbing member against your tongue, swiping it back and forth before shoving it as far into your mouth as he can. Your lips wrap tightly around the base as he bottoms out. His head falls back, jaw slack from the warmth of your mouth. You bob your head carefully after giving yourself a moment to adjust to his girth in your throat and your fingers move furiously against your clit, slick coating your trembling hand. Your free hand sits firm on the ground beneath you to hold you steady. Astarions hands move to your hair, grabbing a fistful on each side of your head to keep you in place as he fucks into your throat, groaning with each thrust. Drool spills out of the corners of your mouth when he pushes in. He pauses his thrusts and slides his boot between your legs, gritting his teeth before growling down at you.

"Fuck yourself on my boot like a good pet. Show me how needy you are."

You scoot closer on your knees, lowering yourself onto the shiny top of his boot and you grind your hips into the leather, both arms wrapping around his leg to hold you steady. He resumes his quick thrusts into your throat, rhythm beginning to falter as he nears his end. He gasps for air. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." You stick your tongue out once more to rub against the underside of his cock, earning a loud moan from the pale elf towering above you. "Gods, please. I'm so close." His voice is desperate now, tough exterior crumbling in front of you. He bucks his hips furiously into your face, the tip of his cock brushing the very back of your throat and you stifle a gag, only earning another moan at the way your throat tightens around him. You grind down roughly onto his boot still, slick coating the black leather. He snaps, completely coming undone, hot ropes of cum shooting into the back of your throat and you swallow quickly, making sure to milk every last drop. The vampire shudders and pulls himself away from you and you keen at the emptiness, a string of drool and cum still connecting the two you of you. You flick your tongue out to collect the fluid, hips still moving in a slow steady motion and you gasp as he lifts his foot into you slightly.

"Filthy."

You grin, moaning up at him, chest heaving as you gasp for air. Swift hands yank you up off of the ground, your back slamming into the oak tree behind you. Astarion's lips crash to yours and you melt in his embrace. His tongue wrestles for dominance in your mouth, the taste of him still lingering there. You groan into his mouth quietly and wrap one leg around his waist, the other still supporting your weight. The kiss feels like it goes on for years, lips moving in perfect harmony. This is perfect. He is perfect. Astarion pulls away from your lips and you whine at the lack of touch, eyes fluttering open to stare up at him.

"May I taste you, pet?"

Astarion's sudden change of tone makes your heart flutter and you nod quickly, resting your ass against the tree. He kneels carefully, nose leaving a soft trail down your hip bone and to the top of your mound. He presses gentle kisses there for a moment. Your hips twitch, a hand reaching out to stroke his hair back lovingly. Without warning, he lifts you up, tossing your legs over his shoulders, pinning you up in the air against the tree. His hands rest under your thighs, spreading your legs apart as far as your hips will allow, opening you up to him. You gasp and reach your hands up above your head to grip the thick trunk. Astarion dips his tongue between your folds and licks a long stripe to your clit then back down, spreading your thick juices around. He groans at your taste. His lips work against your clit now, sucking the sensitive nub between them, creating a tight seal. You cry out in pleasure, back bowing upwards. The sensations knock the wind out of you. Waves of pleasure send you into a daze as he shoves his tongue into your slit, teeth carefully scraping your clit. His fingers dig into your plush thighs, leaving little indents that will surely bruise. You whine and grind your hips against his tongue. He grins, sticking his tongue out, allowing you to take control and you happily oblige, grinding your aching clit against his warm tongue.

"Gods, Astarion I'm gonna-"

Before you can finish your sentence, the vampire wraps his lips around your clit once more, tongue lapping furiously at the bundle of nerves. Electricity pulses up your spine, your climax exploding inside of you. You fall apart in his arms, crying his name out to the empty clearing, his mouth still working you through your release. The over stimulation causes you to writhe in his embrace and you desperately push on his forehead, doing anything you can to escape his hungry mouth. He chuckles and lowers you to your feet, hands resting on your hips now to hold you steady. He licks his lips, pressing a wet kiss to yours. You shudder at the taste of yourself. Astarion leans in to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder, nuzzling his nose into your collar bone and you sigh happily. His voice is low and sultry, breathing still labored.

"You're absolutely divine, my sweet."

You giggle shyly and wrap your arms around the vampire's thin waist, helping him tug his leathers back up into place. Gently trailing your fingers along the skin just above his pants, you gaze up into his eyes, lids lowering. The vampire shudders at your touch, pulling you into a tight hug. Your heart thumps in your chest.

"You're not so bad yourself."

[gofishygo]

[PRIDE MONTH- WEEK FOUR] : through green hydrangeas (my heart lies) price x ftm reader (part 2/2) - UNFINISHED

(i will complete this once i am unsuicidal and motivated)

[PART ONE] | notes: medical settings, description of injury, should have a good ending but like rn its not necessarily very bonita for either of them

The next time you and Johnathan price meet each other is indeed, in Burningham.

The doctors treating you had come with a prognosis- a puncture to the intestine. Through the whole eight hours of the surgery, the whole two weeks of an induced coma, he’d shadowed it behind a glass window. His now practically immune to the scent of disinfectants, the lemon-stained chemicals burning at his nose until the chemoreceptors in them saw nothing, felt nothing. He compares it to a black hole, how his sensory limbs have dulled since his career; his ears are now half drowned, all noose shallow and diasporic, left behind at a botched mission in 2002 Moscow. The keenness of his nose now snuffed by a recent disaster with chemicals. His body is trying and failing, pulling the weight of the world on its shoulders and inside the gaping voids of his chest, always consuming, killing, but never truly settled. Never truly sated.

And now his eyes have resulted in you being eaten, now his ears have resulted in you being ripped at your core. His body has chewed you and, and was left to spit out your body, just like Johnny-

He is scared of looking into closed eyes-they remind price too much about him. So, he leaves the living pearls alone, refuses to peel the skin back to see your colours. He never wants to chew again, not after this.

In every other world be should have stayed attentive, should have yelled at you to not mount the doorframe. But now you are here, bandage wrapped vice-tight below your own scars under your chest and blanketing part of your tattoo, and guilt and pity and some dark festering emotion he couldn’t pinpoint layer and boil like bile in his kidneys. Threatens to spill over into his throat and all over the bed when he is finally allowed to take the compression off. It reveals the shooting star of a wound, crusted tail stretching and expanding into arms that seem to try reach across your skin, to take more of the body it had infested. And he fears you will meet the fate of Johnny- that the wound had claimed your soul instead of your life. And it was an early death too, for the man he had met, for the private who’d body he thought he’d fully memorised a decade ago. The short-lived life of the man who smiled with his whole face for the woman who couldn’t. He knows you have changed, have grown up and out of your past life.

But he can only hope that now; you are strong enough to live through it.

On the nineteenth day of your bedrest, John seems to notice that the slow trickle of bouquets and cards of condolence had been wrung dry, petals brown and crusting on the small bundle of roses that Gaz had left on the bedside since the beginning of your stay in the hospital. The colour of the wilt now matched his increasingly darkening eyebags, crow’s feet near buried, shallow dents in the corner of his peripherals. Pads of his fingers rest atop your forehead- and he knows no matter how dysregulated your internal temperature was since the mission, the number of degrees in your body would always be more than the amount of “get well soon’s” you were given. Some stone of pity seems to snowball at the tip of his tongue and lodge in his throat at the lack of a similar last name on any of the unopened cards left to collect dust on the table. Perhaps, since you’d dropped your original name, the people who’d carried your last refused to see you. And maybe, the idea that the number of degrees your body temperature was also outmatched the number of times you’d seen your relatives since your transition. And maybe, you had been alone for that stretch of years, without familiar flesh to grip onto or a face to share your ashtray and lighter with.

(When long-abandoned lawns are left unattended, they seem to flourish. Rainwater fills the cracks of pavement, toadstool and wildflowers sprouting between the roots of household weeds. In miracle, you had thrived in your isolation.) With one of your eyes slightly peeled open and fixed towards him, and voice barely gathering into the creak of a tree deforested, you ask what is wrong. Price swallows: and he replies with silence.

But even in your quarter-dead state, the captain can’t seem to stomp out the embers of your stubbornness. You’d always cared for him, affection growing teeth and latching onto him with a grip near impossible to pry. In warmth, it held him, in cold, it smothered him. “Put a lid on it, private,” its some form of rumbled warning, a predecessor to earthquakes that would split continents open. “Laswell called. All six targets got taken down, thanks to the work of you and the ULF. Another mission cleared, another day of living.” The dynamics of your exhale sound oddly like a rendition of price’s puff of a cigar. He can faintly recognise the lethargy, energy seeped out of your injuries, clearly exasperated by the way he slams shut at your prying. “You don’t need to worry about me,” But you’re attentive, even in your indigence, and notice how his eyes are not focused on the explosion of scab across your torso, but on the scars that adorned the underside of your chest. “Or is there something else on your mind?”

Price- he truly does hope that you register his stifled grunt and the widening of his eyes as shock instead of horror. Your words catch him off guard, a bear trap that ensnares his tongue instead of his legs, and he is left thrashing in desperation for new words. “no, it’s not- its not that you’re transgender. I don’t care for that. Why didn’t you contact me? What made you think that I would despise you, just because you changed? Just because you were happier?” did you think I could ever hate you for that? “no, its not your fault kid. m’ mistake.”

Silence from the only person who’d dared to raise their words to match all his own, isolation from the man whose touch anchored you down to the ground of the earth and the heat of his skin- it’s smothering him still, a phantom weight that chained the both of you to the bones in your knees and the cuffs of your necks. (If love Is liberation, maybe you two could have been set free-)

[chuuyaswifeandhoe]

You shouldn't trust your shadow

Pairing: Chuuya x femreader

Warnings: angst, swearing, mention of death

Not proof read

Third part of the series: I Not today; II If only

“NO!!!”

“Yes”. 

Both voices spoke at the same time. You sighed but didn't say anything else, waiting for Mori to decide what was going to happen next. Chuuya on the other hand was fuming. He didn't want to have a conjoined mission with you. No, actually scratch that, he didn't want to have you here, in this room, in this life. Well, you certainly did not expect him to be excited about the change of events, but your plan was working. Mori putting you two together was just the cherry on top and made you almost happy. Obviously, you weren't going to disobey an order from your direct boss. 

You came home from the mission two days ago, had two days off and you were called in an urgent meeting. Opening the door of Mori's office your eyes met the back of your ex-lover. For a few seconds, a wave of emotions hit you, questioning if it was a good idea to be there, eyes widening. But you put your icy mask back on “You called, Boss?”. 

Chuuya was annoyed at the fact that Mori wanted him to be paired with a new recruit. It didn't matter how good she was and what an outstanding evolution this girl had. He couldn't find any information about you, it was like you vanished, so his mind was worrying just about this problem. Dazai only knew that you visited the apartment you both lived in at every six-month mark of the break up then disappeared without a trace. But he didn't expect to hear your voice here. No, it couldn't be, it was just a coincidence, it was just a similar one. His heart clenched in his chest and suddenly it was hard to breathe. He slowly glanced over his shoulder to see the person who spoke, praying all existing Gods that his mind played a trick on him and just mistook your voice. And then he saw you. For the first time in a long time, he saw his beloved and his heart shattered all over again like the day he had to break up with you. Big blue eyes scanned over your features, taking in the scars over your legs, the deathly stare you were carrying, the emotionless voice. Even though he was sure Y/N was in front of him, it was like he did not recognize you. Where was the light in your eyes, your kind smile, and just that warmth you had in yourself? 

“Shadow, you'll be paired with executive Nakahara for the following missions. Do you have any complaints?’’

‘’ No, boss.’’ your voice was empty, with no emotions, no cracking, you almost surprised yourself.

‘’Wait a minute boss, this…’’ It was the first time the executive’s voice cracked and he lost his composure. He did not want to do this. Have a mission with you? No, this must be a nightmare, you couldn’t be in the mafia, your place was not there!

‘’Yes, Chuuya-kun? Do you have any concerns?’’

‘’You said she was a new joiner boss, I don’t want to babysit during the missions. I don’t think she’s trained enough to have missions with me or any other executive for that matter.’’

‘’Oh, is that so? I must admit, she is indeed a new joiner compared to any other assets of the mafia, but you have near you one of our finest assassins Chuuya-kun’’.

You saw how his eyes widened in shock, a smile almost appearing on your lips. You hoped it hurt him to his core. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

‘’Chuuya-kun, I see that you still have some doubts about it. Why don’t you see how the next mission goes, then, if you are not satisfied with Shadow’s abilities, I’ll not pressure you two to work together.’’

Chuuya groaned in exasperation but then just accepted his fate. There was no point in arguing with Mori and maybe making the situation even worse than it already is.

‘‘Fine, Boss.’’

‘’You’ll receive the file for your next mission later this day. Don’t disappoint me’’.

You just bowed your head and turned on your heels, getting out of the office. You heard Chuuya’s steps right behind you, but you were set on getting away from him as soon as possible. He followed you for a while, not wanting to approach you so close to Mori’s office, so when he pulled you back by the left shoulder, your reflexes kicked in and your right hand reached for the dagger you were keeping inside your coat and put it next to his throat, now fully facing him. His eyes were big, he did not expect such a reaction, for sure.

‘’WHAT THE HELL Y/N!!?’’

You squinted your eyes at him and pushed the blade into his skin.

‘’My name is Shadow and you’ll address me as such. Y/N is dead.’’  You saw his expression change from angry to surprised, then sorrowful. He was conflicted, you could see the hurt in his eyes, how the joy of finding you was transforming into regret, in sadness. Ah, you had him exactly where you wanted. But it was not enough. You would destroy him the way he did to you. Break every fiber of his being, until life is no longer an option. 

‘’ I’m sorry…’’ These were the only words that left his lips. His voice cracked like he wanted to tell you so many things but he couldn’t. You just looked at him with a blank expression, making him so desperate for answers. He breath deeply and continued ‘’Why… why the mafia?’’

‘’An eye for an eye, a broken soul to break another. Your actions have consequences Nakahara-san. That’s why.’’ you kept your voice cold, trying so hard to mask the anger and the way you just wanted to scream at him for what he did. For how he humiliated you, how he broke you.

‘’I’m sorry, I was a fool. That’s not what I wanted, I just wanted you to move on. I did not know if I would come alive from that mission and you being associated with me would’ve just made you a target.’’ The only thing you were hearing were cheap excuses.

‘’Next time you try to touch me without my consent Nakahara-san, the dagger will not stop just to bruise your neck, understood?’’ You slowly retracted your arm and placed the dagger back in his spot. You did not have anything else to tell him. You already made a choice and his apologies will not change your mind. ‘’We’re colleagues from now on, I’ll do my part of the job, you do yours, executive Nakahara. Don’t get in my business and I’ll not get into yours. And don’t get in my way, I have no mercy towards anyone for that matter. I'm not and will not be in the light anymore. I chose for myself to step in the dark, to understand your motives, but the only thing I got is that you were a coward. People are not born with the fear of the dark but they learn to fear it. Don't trust the night, don't trust the dark, and mostly, you shouldn’t trust your shadow Nakahara-san’’

‘’So you expect me to just get used to this? To you being one of the most skilled assassins? And how the hell did that even happen? You are not able to kill!’’ Chuuya’s voice was getting louder, he wanted answers. No, he wanted redemption for both him and you. You were not a cold killer in his eyes. You were his ray of sunshine, everyone's ray of sunshine. You had bo place roaming in the shadows. He wanted to delete your smug smirk when you were saying your new name. You did not belong in the dark, lurking in the shadows of evil.

‘’ Everyone can kill with the right motivation, Chu.’’ You saw his expression change again at the use of his old nickname. But being in the same phrase as the word kill made his stomach revolve. ‘’ I expect you not to trust me or my words and I expect you to act professional. Whatever assumption you have about me is based on an old version of myself who was killed one year and a half ago in our apartment.‘’

‘’Y/N you can’t be serious. I can’t, this is madness. You’re not… you were not capable of murder. You were supposed to stay away from this blood-coded life’’ He was in denial and he was bargaining for his sanity.  ‘’You should be happy and involved in whatever activity but not in the Mafia.’’

You stayed silent for some seconds. Then, before turning around and walking away from him you left him one last message.

‘’You should learn to fear your Shadow, Nakahara-san’’

Chuuya remained petrified on the spot. How could all this happen? He pondered your last words and it only made it worse. Your message was loud and clear, going on repeat in his head, like the last thought before an imminent death: ‘’You should learn to fear me’’. 

[tetsunabouquet]

Ruby Gillman and what its reception showcases what's wrong with children's media today

Here is the link to the specific reblog that contains both a production fantheory about Chelsea and my initial review for anyone interested in that: https://www.tumblr.com/tetsunabouquet/722833498719879168/alright-considering-the-massive-heat-of-the-past?source=share Alright, as an aspiring children's author and as someone studying writing classes with children's literature as the particular focus, I have made a couple of posts about my issues with children's media already, or rather, the problems with the people making and critqueing it. Ruby Gillman's reception, like the reviews from critics and people who dislike the movie alike, actually showcases multiple examples of what makes so many movies/shows aimed at children or the family, poor nowadays: Ruby has been critiqued for being 'too cute', and that they should just 'embrace the monster'. Only this doesn't work when young children are also part of the target demographic. There's a reason to why bad guys are written to be ugly, and why good guys are written to be good looking: It's that the brain of the average child isn't developped enough to understand nuance. The younger the child, the more you have to REMOVE nuance. That's also why, when Queen Nerissa/Chelsea becomes all-powerful, she becomes ugly. It's because she's the bad guy in that moment. It's why she lacks a sympathetic backstory, as we see with a lot of villains nowadays. It's because, again, the more nuance there is to the character, the less a child will actually understand the character. It's why the Gillmans claim they're from Canada: because I've seen enough of American media to know Canadians are practically treated like another species. To a child, this explanation would actually somewhat work, especially to a 6 year old or younger The adults screaming about that and how anyone can see Ruby isn't human are thinking too much like adults. They don't try to see it from a child's perspective, and that's the main core to all the problems behind children's media nowadays: They don't 'dumb' themselves down enough to the perspective of a young child. When watching the movie, I definitely felt like the Gillman family was also close to its ideal target demographic: families with daughters ranged between 10-13 and younger siblings of about 5+ years old. And it did well for a movie aimed at such a group. It lacked enough nuance for young kids to understand, and the theme of womanhood would speak to pre-adolescent girls. Also, the way the media keeps comparing this to Turning Red because they were both magical metaphors for womanhood and female puberty and speaks of the generations of womanhood is annoying. Are you telling me that with the shitload of movies that America produce per year alone, they never produced 2 animated movies dealing with coming of age and manhood in the span of 16 months? This speaks once again, of how men have difficulty relating to female struggles and will hate on a movie centering girls growing up, opposed to how women have little to no difficulty symphatizing and relating to movies of boys growing up. Boys only want male protagonists, whilst we women can care less. The moment we get even more then one animated movie dealing with the idea of female puberty in the span of two years, the press immediately descends to pit one movie against another. Oh my god, imagine being that pathetic. That wouldn't be me.

[areyoubea-why]

GUYS I WROTE DOWN A ROUGH IDEA OF THE MAIN STORY FOR WATCHER SO YOU GUYS CAN REFER TO THIS FOR CONTEXT

I’m also not a writer please excuse me..

Prologue

- Sans was from the timelines where he was a scientist

- This au wasn’t a science au it was just Undertale but set a couple years before frisk falls down

- Sans worked with his friend W.D gaster

- His younger brother names papyrus was twelve years old and stayed at home while sans was working in his new job in the lab as the co-royal scientist

- The story was playing out as usual until due to a mistake in the code making up the au, sans switched places with gaster during the CORE incident

- This meant that sans was thrown into the void

- This glitch was unintentional as this timeline was supposed to be a normal Undertale timeline

- The timeline became glitched and it started to corrupt

- Error found this timeline and destroyed it to stop the spread of the corruption

- The au and its inhabitants where deleted

- But sans was still in the void

Part one

- after sans fell, he ended up in an empty infinite black void

- No light or no need to eat or sleep or anything

- overtime, this lack of usage of sanses magic caused his magic levels to dissipate and it eventually sputtered out

- Sans was still alive but couldn’t access his magic

- That means his blasters, teleportation, bones, inventory

- Even the magic in his eye lights dissapeared, leaving him with really really bad sight

- He’s not completely blind though as the slight amount of determination in his system let him survive in these dire circumstances

- He also got used to the dark eventually

Part two

- eventually the void sensed someone stuck in there and spat sans out like rubbish into a landfill

- Sans was thrown into the nearest Undertale timeline which happened to be a genocide timeline

- Sans was met with his home, empty except for the dust floating in the air

- sans was terrified and ran to his house blindly as it was so bright

- Sans sheltered in the house in snowdin for a couple of hours before he felt the world shake before him and suddenly he woke up in the house

- But he wasn’t alone (guys I literally can’t do this I hate writing just go with it these r straight facts at this point not a story)

- He heard the sound of conversation nearby and left the room

- He came across his worst nightmare

- It was him??? And a tall skeleton

- The way the tall skeleton spoke reminded him of his younger brother papyrus

- He was reminiscing until the other version of himself spoke up to the tall skeleton

- This was papyrus ?? But old? Okay that’s odd

- Last time sans checked papyrus he wasn’t even a teen yet

- Sans was about to speak up when he felt someone behind him

- Suddenly he was grabbed and thrown into a puddle of some odd liquid

Part three

- The skeleton started yapping about “ wow a past sans” and “ you don’t see them outside the timelines often” or “ this one has like so magic what the heck??”

- Sans honestly missed the black of the void at this point because there were far too many loud noises and bright lights for him

- “Who the hell are you?” Sam’s asked the strange figure

- The blurry brown figure apologized for getting off topic, his name was ink and apparently he was the protector of alternate universes?

- Sans did not like this at all

- “Wow your eye sockets are so large and creepy hah! You’re just watching me !”

- Say that again.. sorry

- Sans was about to retort that if he can’t see well he can’t watch but ahh well

- Ink then tells him to go to the omega timeline where a human called core can help him

- Ink sent him through that horrible puddle thing again and he arrived in another bright area

Final part (please help me)

- Sans was given a place in the omega timeline by core

- Core was interested in this new sans as they had never gotten sanses from before

- They also did the math that he was very young compared to the other sanses, despite his odd appearance

- Core could sympathize with the big gaping eyes though

- “ wow your eyes are like mine, perfect for observing people!!”

- Core noticed that this sans needed a nickname due to the abundance of sanses in the area

- They saw the sans looking and observing people a lot and not interacting so they nicknamed him the watcher as a joke but it kind of stuck

- Sans was given a token which could help him travel to different aus

Final details

- the watcher used the token to study the og Undertale and he found out that this is him in the future

- Eventually the watcher came across prank tale and was dumbfounded by the sheer amount of noise and colour

- It was his worst nightmare

- The local sans was an eyesore too and an utter buffoon??

- They did not get on at first

- But eventually they became close friends and pt visits the watchers apartment in the omega timeline

- They get it all sorts of predicaments like getting stuck in the back rooms r smth

- The watcher gained a couple of close friends over time

Okay that is IT I am DONE writing I hate it

This doesn’t even count as writing it’s so bland and ewww

This wasn’t supposed to be anything special.. just context for anyone who wanted to know his story

Permissions -

Nothing to do with NSFW if you want to draw or write about watcher

You can write or draw him just credit me!!

PT doesn’t belong to me, he belongs to marvelous-baguette on tik tok!!

In conclusion

Name: the watcher

Age: physically 20 , mentally 35 due to being stuck in the void and not growing

-true neutral-

Strengths: amazing hearing due to having bad sight, good with guns somehow

Weaknesses: 1HP, no sans abilities, bad sight, papyruses

Fears: sleeping, quiet places, any papyrus, error

Personality: quiet to begin with, really friendly eventually

Friends: PT, park sans (belongs to a_lotta_socks on tt), system error (belongs to jenlinthegreat_ on tt)

Regarding sparky sans, my other oc who I talk about more on tik tok (beaboep), he is a what if character in another timeline where the watcher was found by the bad sanses instead of in and was given to the mad scientist sparky to be experimented on

Any typos are not my fault I do no wrong!

Thank you for coming to my ted talk 🗣️🗣️

[theseshipsshallsail]

Summary:

The minutes soon blur in such blissful suspension, and as the unshuttered windows turn an inky black, Oliver immerses himself in the whens, wheres and inestimable hows of their blossoming reality. What he and Elio share defies definition, yet the idea of losing it is truly abhorrent. He needs this. Needs them. Everything they’re capable of being together. The promise and potential contained therein. There’s no turning back even if he wanted to, and drawing a hand up Elio’s flank he rests his chin upon his sweat-damp crown. Wonders when the hummingbird-flutter at his core became love, before deciding maybe it always has been, and he was just too afraid to acknowledge it.

The Difference Between Possible And Impossible (Lies Mainly In Determination)

He’d been dreaming, Oliver realises, as a drunken holler from the Piazza Navona interrupts the doze he had zero warning of slipping into. His mind’s eye transporting him to the villa’s orle of paradise. Elio swimming lazy laps in a set of borrowed bathers. The next day’s pages for Signora Milani all but forgotten as he apricated from head to toe; donning his tinted Persols in deference to the azure sky above. 

In all honesty, the scene mirrors memory more so than imagination, and the sluggish warmth it leaves in Oliver’s veins feels pleasantly reminiscent of the vintage scotch he’d savoured his final night in B. At Annella’s insistence, dinner was a family affair in light of his imminent departure, but with the feast devoured and dishes cleared, the professor ushered him to the study for a well-earned digestif. The pair of them discussing his varied plans for Rome, even as a sombre rendition of Debussy’s Clair de Lune drifted from the living room opposite; tearing at Oliver’s heartstrings with every mournful chord.

“Ice, born of fire, that in turn holds fire,” his mentor mused at length, swirling the mahogany liquid in his lead-crystal tumbler. “È notevole… is it not? How under the right circumstances, something so obstinate as sand itself can be transformed entirely. Reborn, one might say, to the inverse of its maker.”

In terms of subtlety it left a lot to be desired, and Oliver’d masked his quiet desperation behind a measured sip, unable to quash the hard knot of regret that threatened to choke him. Regret, that fails to exist in the liminal twilight of their Corso del Rinascimento hotel room. Banished, as it was, the second they’d watched the plastic wall clock outstrip the hour of his flight’s departure. 

He’s been damn-near euphoric ever since. 

Giddy as a ninth-grader playing truant. 

For the first time in years, he’s chosen the road less travelled, but with Elio in his corner - and sheer determination to guide him - Oliver’s certain that together they’ll move mountains if necessary, to forge a path that’s theirs and theirs alone. 

Again, a commotion starts up in the streets outside. Several joyful voices raised in concert. Oliver doesn’t recognise the song - though it’s somewhat harmonious compared to his own rendition of Fenesta Ca Lucive with the German tourist - and a helpless smile graces his lips when Elio grumbles in response; letting loose a snuffling snore alongside his collarbone.

The gossamer gleam from the balcony gilds his features in a diffuse palette: covetous swaths of rosé and gold that chase the encroaching shadows from his sleeping form. It’s grounding, Oliver finds. The steady exhalations that tickle his Adam’s apple. The rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders; perfectly in sync with his newly unshackled lungs. They’re two halves of a whole - cut from the same cloth - and rubbing the grit from his scratchy eyelids he moulds a palm to Elio’s slender waist, sighing in contentment when the other man burrows closer, one leg inveigling itself between the snug harbour of his thighs.

The minutes soon blur in such blissful suspension, and as the unshuttered windows turn an inky black, Oliver immerses himself in the whens, wheres and inestimable hows of their blossoming reality. What he and Elio share defies definition, yet the idea of losing it is truly abhorrent. He needs this. Needs them. Everything they’re capable of being together. The promise and potential contained therein. There’s no turning back even if he wanted to, and drawing a hand up Elio’s flank he rests his chin upon his sweat-damp crown. 

Wonders when the hummingbird-flutter at his core became love, before deciding maybe it always has been, and he was just too afraid to acknowledge it.  

In due course, blunt-nailed fingertips splay across his sternum; crafting a subconscious chord above his too-full ribs. Elio’s lashes are a charcoal smudge against his cheek, and the rumbling purr that escapes his throat invokes a mental slideshow of their wanton activities earlier. Unsurprisingly, the earthy scent of passion hangs thick in the muggy air; overpowering the honeysuckle sweetness adorning the trellis outside. The salty ghosts of tears, also, shed by two star-crossed lovers who’d feared being reduced to a cautionary tale: a Grecian tragedy for the modern age.

Schmaltzy, perhaps, but their truth is inescapable, and at the first sign of Elio stirring beside him, Oliver can’t help but press a lingering kiss to the riotous curls at his temple.

No more speeches, he thinks, as Elio arches like a pampered tomcat.

“I swear I’ll make you happy,” he whispers instead, and the thousand-watt grin that follows settles deep and thrilling and forever in his soul. 

[sofoulandfairaday]

1 for the ask game

from: choose violence ask game

1. the character everyone gets wrong

Err... all of them? I'm not even kidding. More on this here.

Bellatrix: fortunately there's been progress in the fandom, but for years everyone loved to describe her as an overly sexualized, crazy, shrieking mindless slave, when she's actually quite the opposite. She is sadistic, but not insane, she's passionate but not irrational (she is the only one who knew Snape was a traitor; to me, it's because of a peculiar mix of rationality and intuition that shows her to be actually quite intelligent). Nothing suggests her being promiscuous in the text and I would actually argue the opposite of her (why would she ever lower herself to sleep with someone who she deems her inferior - so basically everyone -, even just to satisfy mere physical desires? This post, to me, is Bella at her core).

Narcissa: this is canon Narcissa, all of you are perfectly entitled to your soft babygirl headcanons, of course, but then again you are perfectly entitled to be wrong <3 [also, shameless self-promo: x]

The blorboification continues for every single member of the Black family and I hate it so much you have no idea:

Andromeda: somehow described as a soft little girl who loved her mean, mean sisters so much and had to run away? Bitch stood up to seven centuries of tradition, and abandoned her sisters and parents, to marry a boy she had fallen in love with maybe two years prior (we know this based on Tonks' age). Good for her, but as I have said previously, both Narcissa and Andromeda (and Sirius, really) strike me as a bit selfish. The one with the romantic attachment to the idea of her family, the child most like Walburga, is Bellatrix.

But this is nothing, NOTHING, compared to what this fandom does to Regulus and Sirius.

Regulus: canonically a Voldemort fanboy, with newspaper clippings of him everywhere, and a blood supremacist. Sirius says it better than anyone: Reggie is soft. But not in the way the fandom believes, nope. He's just a coward who, much like Draco years later, was super excited to be like Bellatrix (Lucius) until he realized what killing really meant, what fighting a war really was, and most importantly because Voldemort touched him personally (Kreacher, whom he loved). Voldemort was probably a little more deranged than he had been at the beginning of the First War, and someone that had inherited the Black pride/haughtiness probably didn't like being branded like cattle and treated like a slave, on top of everything else.

Sirius: fanon Sirius is basically another character. Canon!Sirius is: tall, canonically incredibly handsome, quite masculine (in an explicit and toxic way, especially as a teenager in the fucking 1970s - the skirt-wearing, feminist one-liners spouting version of Sirius is something I just cannot get behind), a dick, a bit classist ((don't come @ me with your "oh, but what about Moony?!" because a) we don't know Remus' wealth when Lyall and Hope were still alive, we only know he can't get a job as an adult because of his condition and b) Remus is Sirius' exception, in the same way Lily is Snape's when he calls her a Mudblood - everyone else is in his eyes)), brave to the point of recklessness, quite cruel, funny, witty, magically talented, loyal to a fault, extremely charismatic and everything else outlined here. For the same reasons, I'll say Remus too.

Don't even get me started on Severus Snape. Other people have spoken on this better than I could ever. At least here on Tumblr, though, it seems to me that things are getting a little better after years of absolutely bizarre takes. Or maybe I've blocked all of the idiots idk.

Dumbledore. More on this here and maybe I'll outline my ideas better in a future post.

Also: I do not accept any characterization of Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch jr, Reggie, and Rabastan Lestrange as anything less than violent blood supremacists. Yes, they can be nuanced and gay (and only for each other might I add), but these people are the KKK (metaphorically, of course, because I hate comparing real-world tragedies to completely fictional ones, but still).

Lucius: a complete dick, but definitely not abusive. The man couldn't raise a hand to Draco if the Dark Lord threatened to kill him over it.

Speaking of which: my darling Lord Voldemort. Not much to say about him really because I know that some people do write him in a very interesting way (and I am open to interpretations of his character even if they are different from how I see him - and I have a very fucking specific vision of him). The problem is that perhaps three (3) of these people write him with Bellatrix and that saddens me.

Now, I mostly read First Wizarding War stuff or Death Eater stuff so I can't really speak to many other characters, especially in Harry's generation, but anything other than cowardly Draco is not a good Draco characterization to me. Ron is hands-down the best one in the Golden Trio and Ron Weasley bashing is pathetic. Hermione has faults but is ultimately a strong, take-no-bullshit girl and I'll take that over basically any and all female YA protagonists. And Harry is sassiness personified, but with a heart of gold, and oh-so-caring. Which is also why I can't read dark!Harry for the life of me. It just makes me giggle.

[flecks-of-stardust]

what are those mods that were cooler than MSC? if they're that good i have to try them out

So upon further thought of this topic, I think i’m misrepresenting my thoughts on my enjoyment of MSC. A more accurate way to put it would be that I had more fun with a lot of other mods. However, I don’t think it’s necessarily fair to compare MSC to them, because the goals of MSC are different from that of other smaller mods. I guess this counts as an analysis post; this will be long.

TLDR: I had more fun with a number of region mods and I think some modcats are cool, but Rain World’s design makes having a DLC that stays true to its core ethos difficult, so I find it hard to really blame the MSC team for MSC being a lackluster DLC.

Regions

When I say that I enjoyed other mods more than MSC, I think a lot of it is in the level editing (ie, lediting), in the sense that region mods have consistently wowed me far more than MSC’s regions ever did. Conceptually, the regions that it added were incredible; I loved seeing Moon as close to her prime as she could ever be shown in Spearmaster’s time (ie LTTM the region; DM), but also finding her ruined structure (MS) as Rivulet, and the idea behind Silent Construct (CL) is also fantastic. But gameplay wise? I didn’t particularly enjoy any of these regions, especially not CL. I hated the spider clogs that I had no way of dealing with, and overall I really just bumrushed it and cheated to get to the story. Metropolis (LC) and Outer Expanse were okay in terms of gameplay, but LC’s tiling and geometry is just kind of boring, if I had to be honest. It’s quite repetitive and not particularly unique, except for maybe Atop the Tallest Tower at a stretch. OE was fine by virtue of not really having another region to compare it to and also being comparatively more plant focused, but honestly, other mods have still wowed me more. So I dunno.

Like when it comes to having regions that feel interesting to explore and are also nice to look at, there’s always Pilgrims’ Ascent and Scorched District, both by Myrmice, and these two also fit so well with vanilla Rain World’s vibe to me. These two, along with the Mast from Snoodle, are all but canon to vanilla to me, because they just fit so well and add to vanilla while still maintaining their own identities as regions. And even beyond having to feel vanilla necessarily, because that’s not always the point of mods, there’s regions like Stormy Coast, Coral Caves, Howling Rift, more that I won’t list because of how long the list will get, but the point is that all of these regions give me more engaging gameplay and paths for exploration than I felt I got for any MSC added region. Granted it’s been a while since I played MSC’s content in full, and my memory of this stuff is generally poor, but I’d rather explore Aqueducts (OA) again than do MS. OA was big and I kept getting lost even with a map, but it was big and disorienting in a way that just felt better to me than MS. The same goes for Deserted Wastelands and CL, personally.

MSC regions feel very vanilla-like to me, in that they’re kind of easy to filter out of your conscious processing so you can focus on other things. I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing, but for the price that you have to pay for Downpour, I think it falls a little short. The thing is that MSC is very much story-focused, putting more emphasis on the slugcats you play as and their stories rather than the lediting of the regions exclusive to them (in my opinion anyways. I ain’t a leditor). Which brings me to my next point:

Modcats and Story

This might be a bit of a hot take, but I think Rain World is inherently a gameplay focused game that doesn’t support much overt story or plot. The lore in all three vanilla campaigns is entirely optional, and if you kill Moon? Fuck you! No lore for you! And even if you wanted the lore, you have to figure out that pearls have to be taken to her to be read, and that the colored ones have unique lore, and you have to find them and hope the scavs don’t take the pearl first. Even with Hunter, you can choose to toss the green neuron and do your own thing. It doesn’t even stop you from ascending either. The story is entirely optional in Rain World. So then to add any story focused campaign at all inherently takes it away from Rain World’s initial design. And on top of that, you’re playing as a slugcat. It’s really hard to add any sort of story in Rain World that doesn’t circle back to iterators in some way. But then what else do you do besides ascend? Eat a few specific types of food? Gourmand does that. Kill a specific creature? That’s Artificer’s thing. Talk to all the echoes? That’s Saint, and kind of Hunter in a way. What else can you do without radically changing the structure of Rain World itself? And to that end, would that still be Rain World? I’m not saying it’s impossible to have a story based campaign that doesn’t involve iterators, but I do think that it’s really difficult to have them be completely irrelevant to the story and still have an engaging story, because Rain World itself is so not story focused. But if you don’t add story, then what do you do in the campaign that doesn’t make it just a rehashed version of Survivor’s campaign?

So like. I can’t really take issue with MSC’s story based focus that much, because genuinely, what else do you do? And basically any modded slugcat available in 1.9 that I think is worth trying falls into the same category. I think Pitch Black is really promising, but it introduces A Lot of changes to the world, and there’s currently almost no story. Vinki isn’t iterator focused necessarily, but their story still hinges on pissing Pebbles off and is overall very silly (not in a bad way! But it doesn’t fit the vibe of Rain World). And Gravel Eater,, you can’t get more intertwined with iterators than with GE’s story, but they’re still my favorite modcat because of how detailed their story is and how interesting their mechanics are. And if you just have a scug with abilities and no story, that’s… not really interesting to play, because then it’s essentially just Survivor, but you’re able to like, say, make spore puffs for free.

Maybe I’m just not creative enough in this aspect, idk. But genuinely I can’t think of much else to do in this game that doesn’t involve iterators in some way. If you know me, you’d know I’m Iterators McGee who has written 70k+ words about a character who has literally no canon dialogue. I fucking love iterators, but I think their stories should be separate from that of slugcats, but in game, just. How? I genuinely don’t know.

Other Thoughts

I think in some ways I view MSC as more of a framework that has allowed other people to build their own stories off of it. The only other mod that has a scale even remotely comparable to MSC is Drought, which is also iterator centric in story. I can’t speak to its lediting since I haven’t played Drought myself (but I’ve heard the quality… fluctuates?), but story wise… yeah. I don’t know. I just don’t think Rain World can really have a DLC that doesn’t pull it away from its original ethos in some way. I would not want Drought to be a DLC either, as cool as I think it is, and I still value a lot of things about MSC. It’s lackluster as a DLC because again, what sort of campaign can you add that doesn’t add a story that isn’t iterator related in any way?

I guess the way to summarize this is that I think MSC tells some really interesting stories through its gameplay. Even the parts I hated are part of the story it’s trying to tell, and on that front I think it does well. But by virtue of being story focused (and, by virtue of story in this game being very iterator centric), it doesn’t feel as much like Rain World, and so it’s not as good as a DLC as it would have been as just a mod. And now that it exists and is widely used, other people have been spurred to make their own ideas and show their creativity, going bigger and bolder than MSC in some aspects. And regarding me enjoying region mods more than MSC’s lediting, I think enjoying the region for being a region is kind of the fucking point of playing a region mod, whereas that isn’t exactly MSC’s focus. So some things are hard to compare.

This is kind of an incoherent ramble but I hope I got the main points across. I still like MSC and I won’t tolerate anyone bashing it here. You will get blocked.

[unexaggerateddumbass]

I am once again going to commit a carnal sin and compare balance with the rest of the campaigns in The Adventure Zone. I know that it’s in poor taste–and, to be clear, I love the other campaigns–but their relationship to one another fascinates me.

The McElroy brothers really just haven’t done a lot of creative writing, especially not dramatic writing. What makes balance so compelling is the way that it leaned on fun tropes. It was a fantastic starting point, and since then they have been experimenting with new and more original ideas for stories. They come off as somewhat stunted and amateurish because the McElroys are amateur writers.

At its very core, balance is a very compelling execution of very compelling tropes. Anytime I try to articulate what it is that I like about balance, I find it impossible not to just sort of describe the story in terms of its tropes. “well you see, the group of oddballs is being pursued by an army of shadow monsters who destroy worlds. And their ship is propelled by the power of friendship. And the longer they get to know one another the stronger they become. And they were very good friends, practically brothers, but they lost their memories and forged their bonds all over again.” Not to mention every arc in the campaign is explicitly recycled from a movie that Griffin had watched recently, with the exception of Gerblins, which is built off a pre-built adventure book. The whole campaign bleeds tropes.

And I don’t say this to disparage balance! Every good story in this age is built on tropes. The tropes do a lot of work in balancing the fact that the McElroys were very out of their element in trying to write dramatic stories. Part of the reason that balance is 70+ hours long, double the following campaigns, is that they spent a lot of time retreating into comedy improv(their safe space). The trope that balance bleeds the most is bathos. Nearly every sincere moment, without exaggeration, is undercut by a joke. And, just to be absolutely clear, this is a strength. It was good for the McElroys to have that as a readily available crutch. Especially in this particular story, where so many characters were hiding immense pain behind carefully crafted facades. It makes the story all the more compelling, especially on second, third, and hundredth tellings. It was good for the McElroys, in their first major dramatic creative writing project, to be able to lean into comedy at all times.

And then, balance Concluded. The Mcelroys wanted to tell new stories, and, looking back, all their favorite parts of balance were the dramatic parts, not all the jokes that they had sandwiched in between. Moving forward, they abandoned their old crutch and tried to write mostly dramatic characters and scenes from the get-go. Aubrey the fire-bender who accidentally burned her own parents alive, the world of Ethersea that was cursed by the Gods and strangled itself to death, Fitzroy the ragged boy who only ever dreamed of being a knight and had the dream plucked away at the last moment. I adore these stories, but I would be lying if I tried to argue that it isn’t apparent that they were written by amateur writers. The McElroys thrust themselves into the world of dramatic writing all at once, but they only ever wrote a little bit, less than one week at a time. And, unlike most amateur writers, they didn’t have the luxury of holding off on publication or revising. The post-balance campaigns are a living record of their writing and learning process. Naturally, a lot of the work they would produce in such a project is not strictly of publishing quality.

And, to look at things from a meta-perspective, it is also natural that a significant portion of the audience would step back at this point. pre and post-balance are two very different kinds of stories. So much of the response and–to be frank– backlash to the these newest seasons stems from high expectations. The Mcelroy brothers have this huge brand and one very compelling writing project behind them already. The audience was expecting professional quality work, but that expectation is a little unearned. They were amateurs. The Adventure Zone is, and always has been, from the moment of its inception, an experiment. After completing balance and taking a massive shift of focus towards dramatic storytelling(because that was what the results of their first experiment demanded) the published product demanded a shift in audience.

Balance was a fun and tropey story spliced with very compelling moments of drama and written by amateur writers. The McElroy brothers created balance because they wanted to sit together and play dnd every other week. When they finished balance, they decided that those dramatic moments were their favorite parts. So, for their bi-monthly game of dnd, they chose to focus on writing those dramatic moments. Even though it was new to them. Even though it was uncomfortable and often cringey. Even though they had a huge audience with high expectations. Because it was fun.

[aitchnkay]

Jiang Gunian Made A Change Part 31

Lan XiChen left the meeting feeling agitated. "Sometimes I really dislike my fellow sect leaders and heirs," he muttered. "No sense of what's truly important."

Meng Yao, walking just behind him, smiled politely. "Perhaps it's just a differing idea of importance."

Lan XiChen sighed and refrained from rolling his eyes. "Yao ZongZhu will discover that his 'differing idea of importance' is going to cause his people to starve." He sighed again, pressing down his anger. "What are they thinking? Why is Jiang FuRen calling Jiang Guniang home? Why? And those..." he refrained, barely, from openly insulting his fellow sect leaders, "men in there agreeing with her?"

"Whatever that little girl can do any man can do faster and more efficiently," Meng Yao paraphrased Yao ZongZhu.

Lan XiChen stopped himself from sighing again. "Apparently our education is lacking. I can run my sect and direct my people in battle. I have no idea how to feed them when we're in Cloud Recesses. How am I supposed to suddenly know how to feed them when we're on the march in the middle of a war?"

"Your education is not lacking...." Meng Yao hedged. "You learn what is necessary to run the sect and hire people to do what you should not. Feeding, cleaning, and all the other necessary jobs are handled by people specially trained to do that. Delegating work is necessary."

Lan XiChen's smile was strained. "I suppose your training involved logistics of feeding an army?"

"An army on the move?" Meng Yao's smile was honest. "No. I'm sure General Jiang has aides who can pick up most of the slack."

"Aides? But not you?"

"I will follow my General to Lotus Pier," Meng Yao sounded smug.

"Along with all of her scouts?" Lan XiChen stopped himself from swearing when his companion nodded. "I suppose it's necessary to prove that General Jiang is not simply a woman tagging along after an army with an honorary title." His sigh was unstoppable. "When you two marry, you'll slowly but surely take over the jianghe, won't you?"

Meng Yao's face lost all semblance of his normal polite facade. "Me? Marry Jiang YanLi? Why would you suggest such a thing?"

"Aren't you to marry?"

"No!" Meng Yao sounded offended. "Jiang YanLi deserves.... Well, she deserves someone better than me. Someone who's as nice as she is. Someone who will support her as much as she will support him. I would only drag her into the muck." He looked sideways at the Lan sect leader. "I think she should marry someone like you."

"Me?" Lan XiChen's voice rose an octave even as his feet stopped moving. "Marry Jiang YanLi? How can I marry her?" The idea was preposterous. Obviously. He wasn't the right man to marry Jiang FengMian's daughter.

"You need an heir. She needs someone who respects her. And who is respected enough to demand others respect her. It's a good match whether you compare sect alliances or personalities. Your marriage will also support your brother's cut sleeve marriage to Wei WuXian. Think about it.

"I will take my leave; I have a few things to finish before General Jiang and I head out to Lotus Pier."

Lan XiChen blinked a few times at Meng Yao's retreating back. "Me marry Jiang YanLi?" Her detractors cited her plain looks and lack of a strong core as her main faults. They ignored her loyalty to her family, her inner strength, and the leadership skills she had gained over the last few months. "She's not that plain, either," he mused as his feet started moving back to his tent. "She's more of a quiet beauty than an overt one. Cores can be strengthened sometimes. Perhaps the Jiang method is not appropriate to her needs." He tried to picture her in Lan blue and felt a warmth in his stomach. "She'd be really pretty in my colors." An image of Jiang YanLi serving him tea in the Hanshi popped into his head followed by an image of her laying next to him in his bed as he read poetry. "Me marry Jiang YanLi?" The idea of their marriage all of a sudden didn't seem preposterous.

Maybe....

[my-name-is-jefferooni]

I JUST SAW “GRIME TIDINGS” AND I AM SHOOKITH TO MAH CORE

The new episode was… Oh my god. There’s so much Sonadow in just this first episode and I am close to fucking SOBBING.

So to start off, we got the fabled “Sonic feels bad about how Nine took the shards” in the cavern scene and even though it ended far too quickly compared to most other predictions, it was still very enjoyable! Shadow wasted absolutely no time in getting Sonic back in the game, while it took Sonic a while to realize that now is NOT THE TIME FOT A GODDAMN MENTAL BREAKDOWN. Twas a great interaction that had my soul flying outta my body frfr

THEN SONIC’S FRIENDS LITERALLY START FLYING AWAY AND MY HEART JUST SHATTERS BECAUSE WTF THEY LITERALLY JUST WENT TO SAY HI TO GOD I AM NEVER GONNA BE NORMAL ABOUT THAT THEY LEGIT JUST SAID “Bye Sonic cya in heaven” AND THEN WERE GONE LIKE WHAT

Poor Sonic just had to speed run the five stages of grief lmao

AND THEN ALL MY WORRIES WASH AWAY WHEN I SEE SONADOW WORKING TOGETHER TO GET OUT OF GHOST HILL AND IT IS SERIOUSLY THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SEQUENCE OF 3D ANIMATION I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. There is so much squash-and-stretch, so much dynamic posing, so many fast movements, so many moments where you blink and you miss something. It’s so fluid and so expertly done, my heart was melting when I saw it. Prime is just straight up eye candy at this point and I am not in any way complaining. This scene was so pretty and so epic and so intense. And I could feel literally every impact. Wonderful story boarding to whoever did the storyboards. You have my full respect.

And then Shadow gives Sonic a compliment and my soul once again leaves my body. I am not okay.

AND THEN THE SONADOW FANKID BATTLE ENSUES WOOHOOOOOOOOOOO

And then. AND THEN. WHEN NINE BRINGS OUT THE OTHER 4 ROBOTS TO FIGHT SONIC AND SHADOW THE TWO HEDGEHOGS LOOK AT EACH OTHER AND GO “Behind you!” AT THE SAME TIME AND I START DYING AGAIN. Feel bad for Big tho. Bro didn’t get a robot… 🥺 Feel so horribly bad for Shadow too. He got stuck fighting the Rouge robot during the fight. Must’ve been a horrible experience. Can’t wait to see how he’ll react to the other versions of her though! If we even get to see him again…!

Which by the way, the ending scene…? OH MY GOD??????????? THEY REALLY HIT US WITH THE BIGGEST CLIFFHANGER EVER. SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG. SHADOW THE GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING HEDGEHOG. THE BITCH WITH ALL THE EMO DRIP AND THE HEELIES. THE ONE WHO CAN FUCKING FLY NOW. YEAH. HE SACRIFICED HIMSELF FOR SONIC. WHAT!!!!!?????????

Obviously, he’s not gone for good. Cuz then we wouldn’t be able to call this season “Sonadow Prime season 2.” But the fact that he gave himself up and chose to fight off a whole horde of super strong and powerful robots that could beat him in an instant all because Nine had his sights on the blue blur…? That is A LOT. Especially since we’ve waited like 2 whole decades for some good Shadow characterization. In no way am I complaining, duh, but for someone like me…? MAN I WAS NOT OKAY.

Sinister Nine is… It is wild. I always knew he was gonna be a problem ever since Shadow pointed it out at the beginning of season 2, but I never expected him to actually be this evil. He lands next to Sonic and Shadow before the sacrifice, and when he reveals what he plans to do to Sonic… He’s hardly recognizable anymore. It’s scary, how utterly broken and changed he feels. This is still the same fox as before though, just a bit more sure of what he wants. And that’s terrifying.

So naturally, when Shadow figures it out, he is mortified.

AND I START INTERNALLY SCREAMING BECAUSE I WAS NOT EXPECTING HIM TO REACT THAT WAY OH MY GOD BRO WAS FLABBERGASTED HE WAS SO TAKEN ABACK HE WAS SO HEARTBROKEN HE WAS LIKE “Why u tryna hurt my boo???” AND THAT MAKES THE SACRIFICE HIT THAT MUCH HARDER. OH MY GOD. MAKES IT WORSE THAT SONIC HAD NO IDEA WTF HE WAS TALKING ABOUT TOO.

Anywhizzle my energy has dwindled since my first watch because it’s been like 30 minutes but I just wanna add that. I am pretty sure it’s official that the Prime Universe is dead. Gone. Deceased. That shit ain’t coming back, I can guarantee. We spent like half the episode trying to get out of Ghost Hill and then mourning the loss of it, and I highly doubt all that screen time is gonna go to waste. They’ll probably say that Sonic succeeded and that we’ll be shown everyone returning to normal, but based off what we see I at least hope this isn’t the case. This now feels more like a show about moving on, about finding out who you are and making friends. It’s about change, but it’s also about connection. And with the Prime Universe gone, with Ghost Hill destroyed, and with the Paradox Prism in Nine’s grasp until the foreseeable future… I really doubt we’ll see Ghost Hill restored. This fact is amplified by the fact that we’ve been getting more screen time and development with each different universe/shatterverse.

Aight that’s all for now bye bye