#and this is the answer which makes the most sense to me

[meanbossart]

Based on the latest art/the famous graveyard scene, or at least my version of it. CW: The usual durge-isms. Astarion's sense of humor.

The graveyard is appropriately silent - there isn’t a proverbial soul to be seen as you stroll through the headstones with lazy strides. You’re so often in a rush to get from one place to the next, how novel it is to meander.

You wonder if either of your souls could tick up the counter; Astarion, a corpse-walking, and yourself something else entirely.

His head, battered and bruised as the rest of your bodies scans through the names etched on their respective places of rest, uncharacteristically quiet ever since you left the Inn. You’re worried. It’s been a dreadful day, and now he’s brought you here - you speak. “Are we defacing any graves tonight?”

Astarion humors you with a stiff grin - no, he says, then he changes it to a maybe, and then he asks you to be patient. His eyes land on a simple stone, half-sunken into the dry ground and overtaken by weeds and vines - a small thing forgotten amidst drunkards and urchins in a dark corner of the dead’s park. He sighs, pushes up his sleeves and snaps the foliage away with his own hands, dusts off the shallow writing and rubs the grime off on his knees - standing back a few feet to look over at his handwork. You squint to read his full name off the rock.

“Ancunin?”

 “Astarion Ancunin.” He scoffs. “I haven’t seen this in… Well, in centuries. I was beginning to wonder if I had an em somewhere in there.”

His amusement dies down.

“I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt.

“He must’ve had someone come and smooth out the ground- Cazador, I mean. He was waiting for me here, when I finally surfaced.”

The vampire's eyes have risen from his name. He looks past the rows of gravestones and into the brick walls that surround them, sight glazed over, face drained from feeling. His words, so victorious in choice, just bear a numb uncertainty. He is so tired. “From that day on I was his. Until now.”

You shake your head. “You were never his. Everything he had, he took by force.”

“Maybe. But he did take it. And I can’t get it back.” Astarion shoots you an assertive scowl. “There’s nothing left of the person I was anymore. Just a name on a rock. I need to figure out who I am now - and what I want.”

You struggle to reach out to him. For the thing which he mourns. His words, when they echo within your own, perforated skull, sound to you like a statement of freedom, a relief; you’ve also left behind the person you were, and there is nothing there worth lamenting.

Astarion is different. As vague as his recollection of the past may be, or as favorably as you believe things have turned out for the both of you, eventually - you can’t help but feel like he would still trade it for a do-over. You don’t have it in you to ask if he would be willing to do it even if it meant your absence.

You know the answer.

You try to make your peace with it.

This person that your lover longs for, you didn’t know them, and you didn’t love them. But you do now; and so, you find yourself wanting for nothing.

“What is it that you want right now?”

“You.”

He’s caught in his own lack of hesitation, sullen face brought back to life by a small look of bemusement, of surprise. “I want you. Not just now, I… You were by my side through all of it - the bloodlust as well as the misery. You’ve shown yourself to be patient. And caring.” His words are staggered by chortles. “You are so sweet to me. A shock, frankly, given the most recent discoveries. I often wonder if this was always part of your nature, or just a happy consequence of your… ah”

Astarion’s finger prods uncertain around his own curly head of hair, prompting laughter to rumble up your throat. “Incident.” 

“Perhaps.” You’ve never wondered such things and you never will. “You’re beginning to sound awfully sweet yourself, mister concussion.”

He groans in response, reaching the short distance over to the throbbing bruise on the top of his forehead, next to his temple. It was a close call today, perhaps the closest yet - or you only felt the ever more desperate given what was on the line this time. “Anyway, I should probably fix this.”

You watch as Astarion crouches down in the dirt. With a small dagger he had tucked away in his waistband, he gets to work scratching irregular lines into his neglected headstone.

Astarion Ancunin

His father’s pride, his mother’s starlight, his friend’s joy.

229 NR - 268 NR.

He makes an addition below the numbers.

468 NR.

“Is that the year?”

“Yes.”

He pauses, then proceeds a little less confidently.  “... At least… I think so?”

You both exchange clueless looks before breaking into an ugly cacophony of snorts, Astarion leans with his hand on his memorial and hangs his head down in feigned exasperation, shoulders jerking. You kneel, joining him on top of his undisturbed plot. The vampire shakes his head “It doesn’t matter. I’ve been dead to the world long enough - whatever year it is now, I plan on living it. And I’m not letting anything stand in the way of that.”

He puffs his chest and breathes a lone sight - no subsequent following and no former to speak of. His body sits back onto his shins, hands fall limp on top of his thighs “Not him, not the sun, not some giant brain, and certainly not…

“Come here.”

There was less than a foot between your bodies that the elf now closed. He cups your jaw between his thumb and his pointer-finger, you feel a gentle pressure on your neck as Astarion uses you to leverage himself over - your mouths lock, you feel a scabbed-over cut on his otherwise soft bottom lip, a hard lump that splits and leaks into your gums. You turn,, grab onto him tight - hot palms on the cold nape underneath the collar of his shirt and chest against chest, a sore nose-bridge buried into his gaunt cheek. Your faces break apart and he presses his brow to yours, a passionate kiss turns into a tight embrace. 

You take a long whiff of the crook of his neck “You’ve got me in a kind of way I can’t begin to make sense of.”

Astarion’s hand becomes entangled with the hair at the back of your skull. “I love you too.”

You feel it. The desperation and the future echo of his cracking ribs, the hot, vivid flashes of your digits prying apart bone and reaching into the cavity of his heart - you can’t be close enough to him. You can never step into his skin and he can never leap down your throat. An anxious feeling sinks into your gut as you realise that there is one thing that you still want; even in your waking hours of clarity, even in crystalline sanity, even in moments like these, ones that you hold sacred and wish to shield from depravity.

He murmurs into the side of your face. “Lets have sex. Right here.”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to beg?”

The playfulness in his tone is brief. He feels it in your tense shoulders and stiff back - you aren’t teasing him.

You only pull away enough so you can look at him, hands remain latched to his waist. “I’m still afraid of what I might do.”

“I understand.” He doesn’t seem disappointed, only sobered. “Well that puts a slight damper on my plans. No matter.”

“You can help yourself once you’ve tied me up for the night.”

“If I wanted to make love to a rabid mastiff I’d go find a new maniac to lord over me.”

“We could still just… Stay here a while. Together.”

You come off a little pleading. Astarion’s eyes squint when he smiles - “Yes, I… I think I’d like that.”

It’s a little clumsy, the way you sway apart and try to find your footing on the gravel, how your hands slide down each other’s elbows and then lock tightly at the fingers, refusing to let go, new amateur joints; as if men like yourselves who’ve more battles than many do in entire lifetimes couldn’t dream of standing up without the leverage - it’s ridiculous. You’re like little children bumbling to your feet, giggling, trying to catch each other staring as you dangle your locked hands over gravestones and step over rogue bouquets blown by wind.

Everything is fine, everything is well. Your future is certain as is your happily ever after - whatever it may imply. You peruse the cemetery, mocking the dead for the names their parents have given them, their uninspired eulogies and whether or not their dirt happened to smell of piss - you make up stories about the lives they lived and both the horrific or the banal circumstances in which they died. Astarion skips up the stairs to the coffin-maker’s abode, overlooking the scenery - he calls for you to come admire your kingdom, death prince. You laugh, and he laughs, and it all seems so awfully benign.

“That will be king for you soon.”

“Oh, gods - get away from me.”

He knows you aren’t serious. This world has brought you too much joy for you to end it. There hasn’t ever been a moment where you were tempted to do your fathers bidding.

But there’s been moments where you questioned what other choices you had.

Not tonight, however.

Astarion rolls his eyes and takes the hand you reach out to him with. You are yanked towards the paved terrace up the stairs, and you pull him into yourself in a lazy sway by the balustrades. “We will figure something out” You say.

“As always,” Astarion confirms with an emphatic nod of the head, but his gaze is low - he stares at your moving feet. Hand-in-hand and hand-on-hip he’s picked up on what you’re doing; “It’s - left forward, right back, close left, close right, right?”

“That is only if you’re leading.”

“Well then, I guess I’m leading.”

“Be my guest.” 

He places a hand on your waist, you put yours on his deltoid, your boots bump into each other on occasion as you both waltz over uneven stone tiles, first with careful attention until you’ve caught yourselves in a sound-less rhythm. When you raise your eyes you find your partner-in-dance staring on with a rivalling smirk.

“So, you remember how to ballroom dance, yet haven’t got a clue about your own name?”

You ask if that disappoints him, Astarion assures you to the contrary. You both rehearse a dance for an event you will never be going to, and you enjoy every second of it.

[emptymanuscript]

I admit I'm on the fence about AI in general... well, on the I have never used it and am not sure if I ever should but I've got the deep fear of missing out side.

But in the context of learning, it strikes me as falling in the same landscape as a calculator or Excel. I use a calculator or (actually more commonly) Excel to do any math because I'm not particularly good at math and never really have been.

BUT

When I was growing up, you did NOT get to use a calculator until you knew how to calculate. This was not a thing to make us suffer or just make life more difficult.

I also had stupid tests where I had to solve 100 math problems in 3 minutes, and I'm not about to argue that was good for me, helped me, or should be inflicted on subsequent generations.

I had to learn how to calculate BECAUSE of the above. If YOU don't know how to calculate, then it is impossible to tell if the calculator gave you the correct answer or not.

Back when I used to post to r/excel, I used to get flack for not showing the "EFFICIENT" way to solve problems but instead would show things step by step. But this is the same thing. If you do things in a big complicated group, you either get the right answer or the wrong answer. If you do things step by step you can CHECK your answer step by step and see if they make sense.

Do I need to know how to do 87^2 in my head in 30 seconds or less? No. I really don't. But I do need to know what is going on and why it is happening.

87^2 = 7,569 is great for a calculator to do. The calculator absolutely can do it faster than most people can. But if I just plug in 87^2 and get 689, how do I verify it? How do I check? Can I even realize, hmmm, that doesn't look quite right. Are my functions all right?

Knowing what is going on is the insurance for that. I can probably catch that, oh, I was trying to use a clever trick and forgot some steps.

The answer isn't all that is important.

And yes, it absolutely can make you dumber. Like I got to hear a discussion between two lecturers I really liked. And one just went off on a tangent and the other was clearly wondering why the hell she was there, this isn't science. BUT because I knew the details of how they were both dealing with the basic problem they were talking about - current science not being able to successfully predict certain phenomenon without numbers to fudge the situation that represent things that can't be proven independently of the need to fudge the numbers - I was able to follow the miscommunication while they, themselves, could not. His tangent made perfect sense in the context of his field of interest and made zero sense in hers. And if all you have the answers with no information of how you got to them, there's zero way to connect "I think the Sun might be conscious" and "I think half of the standard model is based on incorrect assumptions." They were in fact talking about the same things and differing solutions but there's no way to align that without talking about the assumptions, which needs to be laid out in order to UNDERSTAND the answer.

And struggling with my FOMO on writing, there's the basic truth that the reason I fear like I'm missing out is in part because I AM an expert. I have a graduate degree in TEACHING creative writing. I know my shit. So if I ask ChatGPT or whatever to spit out a scene for me, I not only can tell if it is good or bad, I can explain WHY it is good or bad and what needs to be done to improve it. I have zero fear of amateurs asking ChatGPT to spit out a novel for them and getting a novel of quality that I will be competing with. I am scared of people with enough knowledge of how writing works and knowledge of how ChatGPT creating the equivalent situation of me doing long division on paper while they're plugging the equations into a calculator.

A calculator, used as a tool, by someone who understands what they're doing, can do calculations faster and with less errors than someone who also understands what they're doing but isn't using a calculator. But it's not the difference of one being able to do it and another not. It's a difference of speed and accuracy.

It's an entirely different set up when it's someone who understands what they're doing versus someone who doesn't. You can give someone who doesn't know what they're doing all the tools in the world and it will still take them longer and produce an inferior product because they can't understand what they're doing.

And that's the basic problem with using ChatGPT for education. Yes, it can give you an answer. But because you don't know how, you simply have to trust that it is the correct answer. With no way to double check, no way to gauge, and no way to adjust the workflow to better suit your needs.

It absolutely is shooting themselves in the foot. Because school is the point where access to help with process and WHY things work the way to do is easiest to get. It does simply get harder to find the farther away from educational opportunities you get. And when you need it to work isn't the best time to be trying to figure out what you're really doing instead of already having that education and skill under your belt.

It's also relying on the fatal assumption that tomorrow is going to look like yesterday. My earliest datable memory is June 1st 1982. The world is so profoundly different in February 13th 2025, that I am very comfortable promising you that the idea that you can depend on the world looking the same for your entire life WILL get you into trouble because that's simply not the way the world works. Certainly not now. The assumption that it is safe to use ChatGPT now because you will always be able to use ChatGPT is a set up for failure. Will there always be tools? Yes. Will you know how to get future tools to work the same way as ChatGPT? Probably not. I grew up using Dos and then Window's machines. These days, the programs are so different, I find it easier to use a Mac instead of learning the new way that Windows does things.

If you rely on a particular tool solving a problem for you in a way you don't understand beyond that tool giving you the answer, you will be relearning the tool every large iteration. And eventually it will be different enough that it will set you back. That you will essentially be starting from nearly scratch. And then what? If you don't know what kind of answer you should get, how are you going to know if you're using that new tool correctly because some engineer decided that it is more efficient to move in a different direction?

Even novels have changed over the course of my life. Every book I've read that was published in the last 15 years breaks fundamental rules I was taught back in the early 90's. The conventions that I would have insisted that ChatGPT follow have changed. But if I didn't know WHY those conventions existed how would I even know? How would I adjust? Why would it even occur to me that I needed to adjust? ChatGPT sure doesn't know.

That's probably fine if it's just something you're doing for fun.

But if it is your job? Getting things wrong can be the difference between keeping that job and going hungry. It is not a good idea to be utterly dependent on your tools. Tools are to make what you're doing easier, not to do the task for you all together.

Yeah, just don't. The grades are not as important as what you will be able to do (or not be able to do) later in life. And sometimes that later can be a LOT sooner than you anticipate. I watched a LOT of people wash out or nearly wash out of college because they didn't know the whys and hows of what they were doing academically. I saw straight A students flunk out because they just learned the cheat or because their schools were crap and only taught one way to do things or taught nothing at all and just let the cards fall. I had a good friend who came in with a 4.2 GPA and nearly flunk out because she wasn't taught basic skills I had gotten in middle school.

Which was intentional.

Because she was black and poor and I wasn't.

Her schooling was designed to fail her because the best way to make sure someone as smart as her STAYED black and poor was to let her fly without ever teaching her the skills to do better when she needed to. And she was damned smart. And she worked damned hard. And she pulled through and got a master's before I did. But she was in the extreme minority and had a lot of help and still slid through by the skin of her teeth. Most people in her position crashed and burned and ended up WORSE off than they started. Which is great for the powers that be because it makes them a demonstration of why you shouldn't even try. It shows that society is stacked against you. Because it is. Because it is designed to fail.

Understand that ChatGPT is the same set up. It will make things easier. For now. It will give you the answers. It will work. Until it hits the level it can't anymore. And that WILL happen. It is inevitable. And then you have no supports and you ARE going to crash and burn.

There is a reason that ChatGPT is cheap and being forced on everyone. It is controlled by the people who are being served by the current societal structure.

Are you being served? Are you sure? Because if there is ANYTHING about you they can benefit by crushing, washing you out, setting you out to sacrifice, they're going to do it. Anything that is free in our society is a tool to make YOU the product. And they're damn good at doing it. So think long and hard about using that tool when they have so much history and investment in making you crap out for their benefit. Don't rely on them to save you.

I just started grad school this fall after a few years away from school and man I did not realize how dire the AI/LLM situation is in universities now. In the past few weeks:

I chatted with a classmate about how it was going to be a tight timeline on a project for a programming class. He responded "Yeah, at least if we run short on time, we can just ask chatGPT to finish it for us"

One of my professors pulled up chatGPT on the screen to show us how it can sometimes do our homework problems for us and showed how she thanks it after asking it questions "in case it takes over some day."

I asked one of my TAs in a math class to explain how a piece of code he had written worked in an assignment. He looked at it for about 15 seconds then went "I don't know, ask chatGPT"

A student in my math group insisted he was right on an answer to a problem. When I asked where he got that info, he sent me a screenshot of Google gemini giving just blatantly wrong info. He still insisted he was right when I pointed this out and refused to click into any of the actual web pages.

A different student in my math class told me he pays $20 per month for the "computational" version of chatGPT, which he uses for all of his classes and PhD research. The computational version is worth it, he says, because it is wrong "less often". He uses chatGPT for all his homework and can't figure out why he's struggling on exams.

There's a lot more, but it's really making me feel crazy. Even if it was right 100% of the time, why are you paying thousands of dollars to go to school and learn if you're just going to plug everything into a computer whenever you're asked to think??

[moyazaika]

PRESQUE VU

♡ ⋮ yandere ‘boyfriend’ x gn reader

cw ☆ it’s going to hurt.

“i don’t blame you, babe.” his fingers are intrusive, but gentle, as he pries your mouth open. his thumb is calloused, and you can feel the rough skin pressing against the soft flesh of your bottom lip and pulling it down with a pinch. “happens to the best of us,” he says, not unkindly. “and besides, i’m here to take care of you, yeah?”

you give him a sorry excuse of a nod, and he smiles at you over his glasses. “i love that, i ever tell you? when you show me you understand me?” he sighs. “i fucking love it.”

you can see your reflection in the glasses. faint, but unbearably noticeable for every last line of desperation. look at you, nodding again; going yes—yes, i understand you.

do you, really?

“see? you’re so good to me.” beyond the image of yourself, you glimpse the twinkle of his approval (and consequently; your assured safety—at least for now) in his eyes. he only wears his glasses in the early mornings and evenings, when he hasn’t got his contacts in yet. and he wouldn’t right now, considering the two of you’d just woken up. “sometimes, i almost think i don’t deserve you.”

you think of something to say, almost immediately. think of the words so fast that you end up losing them—slipping somewhere just out of your reach.

ah, come on—!

you know they’re important. these words, they mean a lot. it’s imperative you recall them; if only so they can leave your lips.

“but then i think,” dawn’s sun is gentle, blurry glow soft through the bathroom window; hitting him so nicely, and bathing the best and worst of him in gold. “who better for me than you?” features you’ve memorised down to the last detail, your inclination to observe and remember vacillating between an obedience rooted in fear and a strange, beautiful sense of duty owed to what could only be an even stranger sort of love. “and who better for you than me?”

please come back. what were you going to say? it’s—it’s right there, you know it is and you just—what was it, again?

you need to remember. these are very important words that must be said—!

“and no matter how many times i ask myself these two questions,” his other hand, just as rough and warm, squeezes the rolled up toothpaste onto the wet, bent bristles of his toothbrush. it’s a fresh white with specks of bright blue. “the answer is always the exact same. and isn’t that absolutely beautiful?”

he carefully cradles your face with one hand, the other holding the toothbrush by its hilt—or is it called a handle? a body? these autonomous concepts are far beyond your understanding. you perceive even the most mundane object in the only way you know how which is only the one way you’ve been taught to live by.

(hurt.)

but that’s not what you were looking for. no, you’re losing yourself—going off track. you frown, dig deeper. it’s frustrating and you hate the feeling.

you were going to say something—you had to be careful of what you said; speak up only if you’d thought what you were going to say through very carefully—

and here was something you’d thought to waste your few precious words on; only to forget—!

“don’t get lost in your head, lovely.” you blink. look up to find him watching you expectantly.

you realise with a sinking feeling that you’ve been gone for longer than you’d managed to catch. you don’t let that happen too often, nowadays. and for good reason. you immediately make a mental note beneath his curious gaze not to let it happen again.

“there you are. hi, darling. i really hate when you leave me like that.”

you’ve learnt to be attentive and observant, attuned to his every desire—and truthfully, as he often asks you when his mouth is sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck; are they really that different to yours?

so when you notice that his eyes are focused on your lips, instinctively, you part them with a shuddering breath; stand right on your tippy toes and slide your palms up, up, up his body and right over his shoulders—

“oh,” you’re knocked off kilter when his chest, as warm and strong and unyielding as ever beneath your pliant hands, reverberates with unexpected low laughter. you take a step back, but you can see in the reflection of his glasses that he sees it as a stumble; the falter of shame at him having caught your hand in a metaphorical cookie jar. “oh, poor baby. i wasn’t—”

he straightens. catches his breath to wipe a tear from his eye. “oh, darling. you thought i was going to kiss you?”

you stammer, pathetically, hopelessly; only end up looking like even more of a fool when the uncertain edges of an excuse in the back of your mind fail to solidify into something sharper; something that would cut and sink and stay under his skin.

it’s not your fault. really—! you’re just trying to remember those words you’d lost a second ago—where did they go?

he watches with great, quiet amusement as the words continue to evade you, despite your best efforts. eventually, your jaw falls slack and the cat really has got your tongue and even though you know the cat is right around the corner you can’t—can’t quite reach it to get the words back—when they were only just here one second—

“hey. that’s alright.” he squeezes your cheeks together with one hand, and you forgo any last, sad attempt at trying to talk. “i know, baby. i got you. i get it. you understand me, and i understand you. that’s how this works. you don’t have to explain yourself.”

the words in your head are getting closer. clearer. you can feel it; are acutely aware of the fact that you’re on the brink of a breakthrough. monumental for yourself, to know what to say for today, but worth very little to him.

“i’m sorry for laughing. you’re just so cute. i promise i’ll give you a kiss after, okay? i’ll give you all of the kisses you want, darling.” you nod again, more desperate this time. you want him to think back on this morning and remember his glowing success at solidifying your obedience rather than your own spectacular failure at defying him. his grip loosens, hands slide down to your chin—a finger tapping against your jaw with expectation. “but only if you can go back to showing me you’re listening. makes sense?”

it’s very important that you show him you’re listening. very important not to lose yourself in your own head.

“alright, darling. be patient, okay? this is going to sting for a bit. might hurt you a little. so hold onto me if you need, but do not,” he smiles softly, “even think about pulling away. alright?”

the last time you’d lost yourself in your head had also been the first.

you remember, still, looking up at him through your lashes the same way you are now. though, then, you’d been crying. you could afford to do that, before—wave the markers of resistance around like a white flag. it should have been easy; you’d surrender physically—but you wouldn’t really be there mentally. thought that would make the violating ordeal easier to bear.

he’d caught on, of course. the minute your eyes glazed over and your jaw went slack. he hadn’t even pushed his fingers (still slick from your arousal) past your lips—he rolled his eyes. muttered something to himself and got up, instead. you chose not to come back just yet; fearing he’d just return any second now and try again.

from somewhere far away, you’d heard the whistle of the kettle; both at once a shrill scream and yet as silent as a whisper, over the sound of his restless pacing in the kitchen, and then the strangely quiet steps down the hall again.

“you want to zone out when i’m speaking to you, baby?” he’d cooed. pulled out your tongue, pinched between his thumb and forefinger—warm skin unbearably uncomfortable against the wet, squirming muscle that he yanked further out of your mouth. you were there, now, physically and mentally—because you’d seen the kettle in his hands.

“darling, if you think i’m going to just let you check out on me,” he flippantly spoke over your screaming and thrashing, his knee on your chest was painfully digging into your ribs. your body was shaking violently. his hands were as steady as his gaze. eyes trained on your mouth, just like now. “then you don’t know me at all, and that’s very disappointing. so i thought,” he said casually, lips curling into something sweet. “maybe i should show you exactly what sort of man i am. just so you know not to ignore me, again. just so you remember to pay attention.”

and when you screamed again, he’d silently tipped the spout of the kettle over, fingers loosely wrapped around the hilt—and down, down, down had the boiling water gone; spilling straight into your mouth and right onto your poor little tongue.

so today, on this slow morning where the sun hasn’t even risen yet and the stars are still out in the sky, you listen very closely to what he says.

he lines the toothbrush up against your teeth. “open your mouth for me, baby. a little wider.”

you obey.

“that’s perfect, love. come just a little closer, will you? tilt your head up.” he kisses your nose. “good job, baby. now stay still.”

he’s looking down at you through his glasses with a quiet intensity, focused entirely on the task at hand. he still looks golden in the light of the rising sun.

the warm hand holding your jaw in place is soft and his movements are careful as he moves the bristles of the brush over your every tooth with a gentle affection.

he is cleaning you, helping you heal when he takes the utmost care not to let the brush he wields touch your tongue for even the barest moment; the muscle is lying uselessly limp, slack and scarred in the cavern of your mouth—heavier now from the burden of an unspoken confession.

because the words that had been just out of reach have come back to you as quick as they’d first disappeared. in a second, you almost stumble beneath the weight of them; the burden of needing to blurt out what you’ve worked so very hard to get back; something you need to say because you looked for it and found it and you need to tell him. you need to speak. let it out—

say it—!

but you can’t.

so because you can’t quite speak again just yet, even though he does his best not to make it hurt for you any more, you look up and smile at him; sweet, eager, and bright.

his lips curl. you glimpse the approval in his gaze. let yourself feel safe, again, in his hold as he presses another kiss to your nose. “i got you, baby. don’t even need to use your words for me to understand you. i know you already. like i said, nobody better, yeah?”

you can’t tell whether he’s referring to you or himself, so you stay very still as he continues brushing your front teeth, positioning your head at different angles as he makes sure to get every tooth. spends extra time on your canines, you notice.

“we’re going to have such a beautiful day, darling. i think i’m going to love you very kindly today. want to show you that i can be nice, baby. how’s that sound, hm?”

and even though you can see in the reflection of his glasses that despite his careful efforts, your gums are bleeding from the bent bristles of the toothbrush, the blood having mixed with the toothpaste, now staining your teeth a soft, foamy pink; because you won’t quite be able to say it just now—

it’s all you can do to split your lips into a grin and hope he understands.

[melioraskz]

Birthday girl (what they got you for your birthday!)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

A/N : so a couple of days ago (on the same day as a certain maknae in fact) was my birthday and I wanted to write this silly thing in celebration, however !!! God has better plans for me because I for the flu and was dead in bed for literally the entire weekend and half of this week which lead to me essentially having to postpone writing this until now !!! Funsiessss

Warnings : mentions of pet names, mentions of sex, fluffy skz

Pairings : ot8 x (fem) reader

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Chan :

Chan is a simple guy, keeping it classic, a pretty necklace with a heart on, if it was silver, gold or any other metal is simply decided depending on what you usually prefer, which he of course knows what you wear, he knows you like the inside of his glove ! Even if he knew you’d love the necklace he was probably sweating his balls off in nervousness giving it to you, his ears a pink shade whilst a big goofy smile on his mouth the entire time.

“Happy birthday, babygirl”

“Thank you, Chris”

Lee Know :

Now our guy Minho would probably give you an experience, most likely a trip to a cabin somewhere near a mountain where you two could be alone, far away from the stress of your ordinary life and a place where he can take a deep breath whilst having all his senses focused on you. You’d spend your birthday fishing, having a dinner in front of a bonfire and finishing the evening with sex in front of said bonfire, all his focus on you and only you.

“Happy birthday, y/n”

“Thank you, you really made it special, Minho”

Changbin :

Changbin is loud and doesn’t do anything halfway, he would not only host a party with all your friends and mutual friends with a giant cake for you to blow out all the one hundred candles off, but he would probably buy up a whole store for you, you’d get everything from soaps to dresses and even seven different flower bouquets! He’d be so proud too and wanting to show off how proud he is of you all night, you’re truly the star of the show.

“Changbin, honey… you already gave me flowers an hour ago?”

“So what!? I can only spoil my girl once a year like this! Happy birthday, baby”

Hyunjin :

Hyunjin would probably gift you a painting he has made himself, I mean he is an artist after all. It would be a portrait of you two, he’d use a couple photos he had on his phone for reference so the portrait is a completely unique piece which would have taken him at least a couple of months to put together into perfection! When you unwrap the painting your eyes would tear up, he really saw you this beautiful? It was perfect and would definitely be hung up in your home for all family and friends to witness how talented your amazing boyfriends is.

“It’s beautiful, thank you so much, baby”

“I’m so glad you like it, happy birthday, my love”

Jisung :

Jisung wrote you a song. It wasn’t planned to happen, he was at the studio one day, trying to compose another work for the team when his phone lit up, a message from you asking if he wanted to get dinner after your shift ended, after answering a happy yes to your suggestion he caught himself looking at his wallpaper a bit longer than usual, a photo of you two, smiling. You’re taking a selfie on his phone with a silly filter, kissing his cheek… oh he is smiling to himself and that’s when the idea hits him, of course? He had been stuck with what to get you for weeks now and he had it right in front of him! When it’s the big day and he press play you start to fully cry half way through which makes the poor boy panicking, pausing as he tries in panic to calm you down.

“I’M SO SORRY I JUST WANTED TO GIVE YOU A GOOD BIRTHDAY GIFT I’M SO SORRY I-“

“Han Jisung shut the fuck up and continue with the song before I have a mental breakdown, it’s so beautiful, thank you, I love you so much”

Felix :

Not only is Felix the only member that would actually bake you his own cake in your favourite flavour, but also would make you dinner (or takeout if he fails with the dinner as baking seems to be his strongest weapon in the kitchen). He would probably sneak into your home when you’re at work to set everything in motion, bringing bags of all the ingredients along with a huge bouquet of red roses that he would arrange in a vase of yours prettily on the dining table for you. When you come home from your work, you honestly forgot all about the special day in question he is already waiting in your kitchen, dimmed lit with candles and a romantic dinner setting whilst singing happy birthday to you.

“Happy birthday, my dear”

“Thank you… I can’t believe you made all of this!”

Seungmin :

He is a classic guy I feel, he’d also get you a piece of jewellery like chan, I feel more graduated towards earrings if you’ve got your ears pierced, something simple and pretty like pearl earrings. He would act so casually when he gift you them, like it’s nothing special but in reality he would be having a panic attack in the inside, wanting you do desperately to love his gift. After all he truly wanted this day to be perfect for you.

“They’re beautiful, seungmin! Thank you so much”

“Oh it’s nothing, I’m glad you liked them”

I.N

Now this guy would be panicking weeks ahead of your birthday, asking his members what the hell you give a girlfriend on their birthday! After everyone’s input he would eventually settle for a huge teddy bear, some of your favourite snacks along with a perfume, a scent he specifically picked out for you because he thought it would suit you. He would have forced one of his members to tag along to the mall and be his advisor for that day, both of their noses numb from all the smelling until they found the perfect one.

“Thank you so much, jeongin. I love it!”

“You love it? Really? Happy birthday!”

[drdemonprince]

Hi Devon, I keep finding out that more of my trans friends are actively in the middle of leaving the U.S., and my partner keeps saying things like 'well we need to make plans in case we need to get you out of here.' Is it weird that my first instinct is to push back on this? I don't really want to leave, and I am clear-eyed enough about how being an immigrant works and how little connections we have, plus the global rise of fascism, that I just don't really understand how this could be, for us, the best option.

For reference, I am white and genderqueer, and though I have been on T for a while and had top surgery I still get mostly gendered as a woman (I think this has to do with my being fat and not making much effort to pass or deepen my voice). But we live in a blue state with lots of good laws supporting trans people, and I work in a supporting workplace. So I am in a pretty safe spot, all things considered.

Yeah honestly, I think a lot of white Americans who are considering leaving the country are a little bit deluded by white supremacy and eurocentrism into thinking that there is a better place they can flee to, with decent trans healthcare, where they will somehow be welcomed, and able to find jobs easily, rather than face anti-immigrant sentiment.

Of course, it is true that white American immigrants are valued more compared to other immigrants, but the degree of certainty with which a lot of white Americans are behaving as if leaving the country is an easy solution is pretty divorced from reality I think. Especially when you take into account what accessing hormone replacement therapy looks like in a majority of other countries. It's worse! In every country in Europe other than Spain, they don't have informed consent, and they have extremely long wait lists to get care if at all. It's often much harder to change one's documents or name, depending on the country.

I speak to a lot of European trans people and I know that in a majority of those countries, trans acceptance is a lot farther back than what you can find in most American cities. This country is obviously fucked in a great many ways, but if you really have an understanding on a systemic and historical level as to why that is, I don't think you'd be looking at Europe as an answer or a refuge. they are where we inherited all of those problems from! our country is fucked up and evil because it's filled with a bunch of white settlers!

I suppose Canada and Mexico are a little bit more promising in certain ways, if I was going to flee somewhere those would be the places I was considering, but it would still be pretty supremely fucked up for me to do so and leave behind so many of the trans people who don't have the luxury of doing so. It just isn't a solution. It's kind of a white liberal fantasy that has been popular ever since Bush came into office in the early 2000s.

I think it makes a lot more sense for a trans person in a red state to flee to a blue state and then to contemplate a cross-country move when a majority of these countries that they're considering are extremely hostile to immigrants, particularly ones with disabilities, reduced employment prospects, or any other vulnerabilities, which trans people typically have. American people tend to believe that our lives are so important that any place would take us, which is kinda disgusting in its own right, but it doesn't really work out well to hurl oneself into non-citizenship even when you have those massive advantages if you can't promise those countries the 'benefits' of american economic and cultural supremacy. which most of us can't.

[lananiscorner]

Eh... this is not so much a "neurotypical" problem as it is a "general conflict management and de-escalation" problem, and it can have multiple reasons. Let's just say person A says person B did something wrong, B wants an explanation and A refuses to give one. This can be for any one of the following reasons:

A is used to good faith attempts at clarifying being met with bad faith/abusive/manipulative attempts to pick their logic apart and/or gaslight them by feigning ignorance/incompetence, and so has taken up a policy of "do not engage". This can be a generally good and healthy approach in many situations (e.g. someone hits on you at a bar, you tell them you're not interested, they ask you why not, you say they're not your type, they ask what exactly makes them not your type, etc. You are now already 2 levels deeper into this conversation than you ever wanted to be and feeling more gang-pressed into giving information, which is triggering your fight or flight instincts).

A is using this withholding of information as a means of emotional manipulation themselves, to keep B from properly articulating their own point/needs/wants/boundaries.

A doesn't quite understand the reasoning for why B is wrong themselves. This is common with social norms and behaviors, which are ingrained in most people at an age when they are too young to reason their way through them. Somebody in the notes mentioned the example of unspoken, nitty-gritty grammar rules, like how you would say "the big red truck" but not "the red big truck" and how to a non-native speaker this rule doesn't make sense. Sometimes the answer really is just "because" and nobody likes being grilled for information that they themselves don't have. It feels like being interrogated rather than having a conversation.

People who are good at something generally underestimate the knowledge/skill base of people who are not good at it. Y'all know that meme where the two scientists go "we have to be careful, most people probably only know X and maybe a bit of Y", where X and Y are things that nobody outside that field of study would know? This is the same thing. Sometimes people genuinely don't understand how specific you need them to be. Easy example: I grew in a culture that values punctuality. You show up to everything ideally 5-10 minutes before it starts. But I have one friend who absolutely hated that, who was constantly stressed out if I arrived at her place 5 minutes early, and I genuinely did not understand why this was such a problem for her and why she couldn't just prep for guests earlier (we had both grown up in this culture), until she explained to me in great detail how her mind would just use that extra time to find increasingly minute, procrastinating details to hyper focus on and lose track of time, giving me a few examples of such issues. That last bit was what was needed to make my brain go "oh, that's why, ok, I'll try to show up *shudders* 10 minutes late in the future".

They are low on spoons and don't have the time/energy needed to get into a longer conversation. This gets progressively worse the more introverted a person is.

Scenario 1, 3 and 4 are generally resolved fairly easily by being very upfront, but calm about it: "A, I like you and I want to do right by you, but I really, genuinely mean it when I say that I don't know what I did wrong. My brain is currently desperately trying to trace back every step that has happened and to find out what went wrong, and it can't, so clearly I'm missing some steps. Please explain it to me like you would explain it to some space alien that has just been dropped on Earth and has never been in situation X before, so I can do better next time."

At this point, if it's scenario 5 (no time/energy), Person A will usually say so (sometimes rudely, depending on how close they are to what Captain Awkward lovingly calls the Bitch Eating Crackers level of mental spoons exhaustion). This is a good point to ask " Okay, I understand. I'll ask some other time, when you have more time/energy if that's okay with you."

And if the answer you get then is some variation of "no it's fucking not, we're done talking about this ever", then you know that, at the very least, this person does not consider you important/worthwhile enough to set aside two minutes of their time to help you understand something, even when they have the time/energy.

And if you keep on running into this with the same person multiple times, then I'm sorry to say, it's likely scenario 2.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Doing a larger post about how to deliver information in a story using Elden ring and it's lack of narrative as an example and I got a bit sidetracked, so enjoy this ramble:

Alright, let me explain myself, but before I do, take a look at the elden ring story trailer...

Damn, that’s an excellent trailer, in just under four minutes we have: 

The inciting incident of Godwyn’s death

The setup that there’s a ruinous war between the demigods that’s reached a stalemate

Multiple mysteries we want to see answered including: What was the rune of death and how was it stolen and why? Who killed Godwyn the golden and set off the Shattering war? What the FUCK is happening to Godwyn? What was the elden ring, who shattered it, and why? Who’s this spooky doll lady And why do I want to kiss her?

The call to action: We live in an age of terrible conflict but you could put a stop to it if you become the elden lord. 

Hell yeah, that’s some excellent setup. None of which is in the game itself. Instead lets look at the intro cinematic..  

The opening narration is weirdly disjointed, with sentences seeming to cut off and jump around randomly. What’s more, We have no relationship to this narrator: in the story trailer the exposition was delivered directly to us the player by a specific character in the form of Ranni. Whereas the opening narration is delivered by an abstract narrator to… no one in particular? The piles of dead tarnished?   The stakes and call to action are likewise far clearer in the story trailer: “Become Elden lord to stop the ruinous war” is way more proactive than “ There was a war.. become elden lord”   Don’t even get me started on the fact that the war took place hundreds to thousands of years before our character even arrived and the setting has just been hanging about in limbo since.  

Whereas the story trailer gave us stakes and mysteries to solve, the opening cinematic leaves you with a general sense of “huh?” as most of the images in the slideshow only make sense once you already know what’s going on. It even goes as far to give you information you don’t need, introducing a bunch of characters that we might not meet for hours with no other context than “ Hey, remember these names for later”.  Fia suffers the worst for this, as the surprise that she’s actually a strangely intimate necromancer is spoiled by the fact that she’s shown canoodling a corpse in the intro. 

How do you fix this?  Have Hoarah Loux give the opening narration. He led the tarnished into exile and now he’s giving a rallying speech summoning them back. The tarnished have suffered during the (thousands of?) years of their banishment in the badlands and now they have a chance to return to the Lands Between, their home, if only they can follow the guidance of grace and complete their queen’s request.  Have the intro highlight how shitty the badlands are, and how glorious a place they left behind. 

This sets up a mystery because as soon as we get to the lands between as we’re faced with this bizarre broken landscape and Marika’s disappearance. We want to desperately find out HOW things got this way, and how/why the queen called us back. Finding Marika isn’t just incidental… her say so and authority  determines whether the Tarnished will be allowed to resettle in the lands between or be hunted as outlaws, giving our character a reason to pursue the plot other than the aimless push out the door we get in the vanilla cutscene. 

Along the way we’d find Ranni, who’d explain about the (preferably ongoing) Shattering war, and what we could do to amend it, whether that be finding the queen or stepping into a place of authority ourselves. 

……I’m going to have to turn this into a d&d campaign aren’t I? 

[siggiedraws]

I'd love to hear more about your view on Sonic too! What do you like (and dislike, if you want) most about him?🍀

There are so many things I love about him it's hard to choose! But a few things do come to mind:

1) Sonic's willingness to help others no matter what, like when Sonic decides to help rescue a girl's village from a dragon in Black Knight despite the fact that this would cause him to run out of time to do Nimue's tasks (luckily, that was actually a test that Sonic passed!) The fact that Sonic just wants to save people who need saving, no matter if that's an inconvenience to him, shows how compassionate and selfless he is. Not to mention his line to Chip where he says "Do I need a reason to want to help out a friend?" makes me emotional every time. He helps people simply because he wants to!

2) Sonic's thrill-seeking nature. He'll do crazy shit just because it's fun and dangerous and you can tell he just lives for it. He sounds so happy and excited whenever it happens that it's really cute. This is very much highlighted in the Storybook games, where Sonic's companion characters often express their chagrin at how reckless Sonic is. This moment in Pirate Storm and this moment in Molten Mine are my favourite examples.

I would say Sonic's thrill-seeking is emboldened by the fact that he faces death head-on and isn't afraid. When he's about to die in Sonic Adventure 2, he keeps his cool and he calmly holds the fake Chaos Emerald, wondering if he can make it through. In Secret Rings, at the realization that the Flame of Judgment's time limit is almost up, he chuckles to himself and apologizes to Shahra for worrying her. This is extremely telling of his selfless character and his lack of self-preservation. Even in death he's not thinking about himself. He's focused on cheering up his friend.

It's something I find very fascinating, for someone who enjoys living so much to lack a fear of death. Though, I would argue that it does bother him on the inside, if even a little bit, going by the lyrics of Unawakening Float: Must I float away? / Will I ever wake?

3) Sonic's love for life and the world around him. Sonic's always fighting to preserve and protect nature from Dr. Eggman's industrialization, and environmental awareness is a prominent theme in the Sonic franchise, so it makes sense that's what Sonic's all about! He remarks in Heroes that he loves Grand Metropolis, for instance, which is a huge eco-friendly city with no pollution. Also, in a 2022 Q&A, Sonic says that restoring all the levels in Generations reminded him of how great the world is, which is genuinely so sweet! 💙

As for Sonic's love for life, the thing with Sonic is that he doesn't have any ultimate goals in life or any dream to achieve. When it comes to living life to the fullest, he exists in the moment and enjoys the present day. He does what makes him happy right here and right now. In other words, he's content without a destination, and he enjoys the never-ending journey. There is a lot I can learn from him!

4) His mystery! What is Christmas Island like? How did he and Eggman first meet? Just who the hell is this guy? No one knows, but Sonic will tell you he's just a normal hedgehog, which may very well be true. There are little hints here and there that point towards the symbolism of his origins, like his folded boots being inspired by Santa Claus, which is why they're red and white with a buckle! I find that such a cool detail. I love the vagueness of his past and I hope it stays that way.

Speaking of Sonic and mystery, did you know that there's a character called Uhu the Wind Genie in Sonic and the Secret Rings, who is known for his speed, and we never see his true form? I wonder who that could be an analogue to...

As for what I dislike about Sonic, that's much harder to answer because I love him so much. Every aspect about him is perfect to me! I suppose if I had to choose one thing… he can just leave without notice for an extended period of time, as seen in the end of Sonic Advance, and that can be very worrying. He's an independent guy and he likes alone time, but I can imagine how his behaviour could frustrate the people around him. Tails flying in the Tornado trying to look for him in the sky breaks my heart.

anyways... I love Sonic so much as you could tell. Thanks so much for your ask! 💙

[koshmasha]

I'm sorry. Poppy playtime obsession got to me😞

I feel bad for the toys and I won't rest until my mind comes up with a scenario where everyone lives!! However, that need alone is not enough to make me draw something.

While I love the toys' designs bc they're all such cutie patooties, their biology/anatomy just make no sense to me (well, most of them, i have little to no issues with Huggy and Kissy) >.<

That's why my autistic ass (powered by sheer confusion and need to make sense) decided to redesign the characters. Well, not the TOY designs themselves, but rather the ones that are alive and were previously humans- YOU GET IT

To justify my redesigns I also had to rewrite the story a little. Pardon me, but I don't understand how they made human/toy hybrids that are both organic and artificial... This makes zero sense to me, so in my rewrite Playtime Co. created their living "toys" via mutation and crossing human and other creatures DNA. Some Umbrella + Urbanshade shit, yea... Right now I'm done with Yarnaby and Doey, and there's also a Catnap redesign in progress (I'll show him later)

Here are some notes on my redesigns:

YARNABY

- I genuinely tried my best to figure out his vertically split mouth, but after doing some research I realised that this is probably anatomically impossible:')

- my main inspo for his mouth are snake jaw and some resident evil mutants. I used boss forms of Moreau and Lady Dimitrescu from re8 as references, bc they both have these weird segmented jaws, but i feel like Moreau's jaw gives off more of like, Yarnaby vibes, so my Yarnaby's jaw is similar to that of Moreau's

- instead of having fur made of yarn, he has real fur, cuz my Yarnaby is a fully organic creature, a mutated human. His fur is just dyed in rainbow colours, however it wasn't re-dyed since the hour of joy, so he isn't as aesthetically pleasing as he once was (still perfect to me)

DOEY

- again, Istfg I don't get the logic behind this living play dough. If he's made of clay why does he need food... The answers I'll never get. ANYWAY- Since I'm trying a mutation approach here, rather than ??? whatever we see in the game, I thought "what is the most play dough-like creature on earth?" And my mind immediately screamed OCTOPUS. I mean, they're squishy and gummy- They can squeeze through tight spots, they're colourful and look like jelly

- also while looking for octopus references, i found out that they have neurons in each of their tentacles, which allows them to multitask! I thought this was a cool explanation for how Doey's personalities control the body

- so yea, my Doey is basically a human/octopus mutant hybrid. That's it. Although idk how they merged three persons into one living being. My main idea is that boys just fused during the experiments... I'm trying my best here to make sense out of this all, don't be hard on me😞

[thefandomexpert]

skipping the ‘women are not a monolith’ bc that’s in another comment. all opinions herein are my own, i’m not prefacing each statement with that so if I say something you personally disagree with it’s not a problem these are just my Onions

first, this seemed very surface level. they’re missing a few big name primarchs for both columns which is baffling.

khan, gman, and vulkan are all standard, loyal, manly men ™️ who also happen to be textually ‘nice’ to mortals/are generally seen as well-adjusted individuals.

This poster has missed the fact that, as far as my corner of the internet is concerned:

1) khan has very little lore compared to his brothers. even if he’s cool he’s not Plot Relevant. there’s no character arc with him? he’s cool. that’s literally it. and i love him for being cool but there’s nothing for me to play with there

2) gman is the most basic white bread unless you like him in which case he’s a sleep-deprived ‘i didn’t ask for this’ ceo dilf scrambling for any sense of security who makes bad decisions in part because he’s sleep deprived and scrambling. i am willing to bet the latter characterization was not really considered when making this post, considering this poster doesn’t think he’s simped over (untrue)

3) vulkan, like khan, also suffers from having brothers that are more plot relevant, though he has more of a character arc (or he could if they brought him back). However, he also suffers from The Fandom Racism Problem. but we don’t need to get into that rn.

42k!Guilliman aside, there’s nothing interesting to be had there narratively, and the other two haven’t been lore relevant since the heresy, unless you want to count tts’ revival of vulkan.

guys i’m surprised are not on this list: corvus really should be up here considering his temperament, and sang?? and FULGRIM???? that says a lot about where the poster is coming from. like fulgrim is for the queers so i get missing out on him if u don’t get him but you didn’t think we’d like sang???? textually prettiest primarch????? the only reason i can think he’s skipped is because he is simped for and therefor is not a surprise

meanwhile,

1) angron is The Single Most Tragic Primarch of the lot, his inevitable clash with the imperium is very good for getting to the core of the Imperial Problem, and he’s a sympathetic and relatable character. i, too, would want to rip my dad apart if he didn’t take the painful metal contraption that made me fuckass mad out of my head even if he could, and made me leave my friends to die to boot. is clearly trying to do right but is forced to do otherwise in a way that’s far more poignant than guilliman or lion making a nasty genocidal decision ‘for the greater good.’ can be either a True Tragic Figure or a beast for a beauty candidate. if you wanted to fix-it one primarch and fix the whole plot by extension, the answer would not be hugging horus or letting gman take a nap: it would be handling The Angron Problem because he is the biggest most obvious example of the imperium Not Working the way it’s being sold. he’s fucking compelling. and he has the biggest rack aight look.

2) corvus is fandom bait full stop. wet cat of a guy who turns into a crow demon and bothers one of the more annoying traitors forever and ever. guilty about his tragic mutated kids. guilty about a lot of stuff actually. again, sad wet cat. and while he’s not plot relevant post dropsite, he’s still textually around and open for a dramatic return. and i mean. look at shrike. tell me they didn’t expect the hot topic kids to be rg players. go on. the only way they could have made him more baity is to put clip-ons in his hair and dress him up in plaid skirts and fishnet gloves. rawr means ily in dinosaur, i made u a cookie but i eated it ass primarch.

3) kurze is again equal parts tragic and potential beast to tame from a fandom perspective. he’s got a cool gimmick with the future sight and who hasn’t wanted to skin a few oligarchs you know? he’s surprisingly witty and he’s got that tall dark and triangle look the tumblr girlies tend to like. there’s a canon example of him keeping a human alive as a pet for multiple years even. you can make this work, easy.

i get the sense some people question why people would like the traitor primarchs, as if telling emps to fuck off and die isn’t the hottest thing a guy can do in this setting (again: one of the major reasons 42k!gman has any appeal is his disillusionment with his father and his genuine struggle to understand why imperialism isnt working out. you’ll get it eventually buddy). they all maim and kill people so that’s also just. way less of a factor than you’d expect, except if they do it in particularly clever or charming ways, which the standard Manly Men primarchs do not, and also we like villains here, sir.

guys i’m surprised are not on this list: mortarion lmao. he’s just as bad if not worse than curze from an appearance standpoint and he’s not a nice guy, neither is he a big scary aggressive protector/hunter/etc dynamic candidate. he’s just there and he just Sucks. and we love him for that. like people are nuts over this guy. which is excellent! but given what poster expected he should be a big surprise. maybe magnus - i can see some people missing his appeal as he’s touted as a nerd and he’s continually a massive loser in every sense of the word…as long as you’re unfamiliar with the wild popularity of the tts version. this may be a sang situation where he’s not mentioned bc he’s expected and proven to be simped over, no surprise.

Lmao

Primarch simps of Tumblr, what is your verdict? (No hate to OP, just poking fun)

[dyingswanpavlova]

About me

So, I decided to introduce myself after years, because so far I didn't really interact with anyone, but here I am. ✨️

You can call me Lana, I'm 25 years old and I've been on Tumblr since I was 14. There were always long breaks in-between, but I haven't been as active as these last few weeks in forever.

I'm a philosophy student and I got married two years ago. One year ago we started a family. That's also the reason why I can't always guarantee to upload or answer in time - sorry in advance. 🥀

I got a really bad case of depression when I turned 18. It's been up and down since then, but it never was as bad again as it was back then. I got a few mental health issues actually, aside from depression I'm suffering from severe OCD and anxiety. I'm also assuming that I might be a bit autistic, but I can't confirm that. I'm trying to work on it every day and hopefully, one day I'll be able to take on life without any precautions. One of my biggest dreams is to become an author one day - wish me luck. 🍀📖

I'm a very honest person - or I try to be. One might call it naïve, I try to call it positive. I love everyone, unless they give me a reason not to. And I'm convinced that love can exist in many forms, not only romantically; I might not know you, but I care about you. My inbox is always open for everyone. I don't tolerate any kind of hate or bullying. Aside from that, everyone is always welcome. Let's be friends. 🤍

As a child, I was abused, over and over by the same person and it went on for many years. I only just recently started to try and understand that better. My fanfiction "Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader is something that has helped me a lot when it comes to working on that trauma. I hope it might help someone else as well.

I have a strange fascination with darkness. Don't get me wrong, I love fluff from time to time, but I'm a sucker for angst. I always loved drama and I love any character going yandere.

I take requests and I try to take any really, even if sometimes it might take some time. I write for Squid Game, House of the Dragon, Game of Thrones, Peaky Blinders, Supernatural and like a million other shows which I can't all mention. If you do have a request, it makes most sense if you ask me if I write for that show and we'll take it from there. I'll be brave and say I take almost any request idea. Sure, there are some boundaries, as we can all imagine, but I'm not afraid of freaky shit - come at me!

I love books, poetry, music, art, food, movies, tv shows and the ballet and obvioualy many more things. Unfortunately, I don't dance myself, but I love to watch it. Anna Pavlova's Dying Swan and Swan Lake in general are my Roman Empire. 🦢🩰

You can find my masterlist here. It contains my most recent works, because, I'll be honest, I'm super embarrassed about my older fics. English also isn't my first language, so if sometimes I'm talking gibberish, please forgive me.

I think this is what was most important. I love you, guys!

Yours eternally,

Lana 🤍

[utilitycaster]

I've seen some people compare Vax's resurrection in C3 to bringing back Molly (later revealed to be Kingsley) in C2E140. How do you think these two scenarios differ and why does one work and the other doesn't? Also, do you think C2 scenario would still work if Taliesin played it like it was in fact Molly that was brought back (as Mighty Nein originally believed) and not Kingsley?

Hi anon,

I mean, you kind of answer it here: Molly wasn't resurrected. Kingsley, a different aspect of the same fragmented soul within that body, was. This isn't bringing back someone who died; it's starting a new life from what was left. It's thematically coherent with the rest of the Nein's stories, both in terms of many of them coming together still getting over a devastating loss or change and becoming someone new in the ashes of that; and with the very specific endings of many of their stories: probably most obviously with Caleb, choosing to leave his parents to their rest and instead building his own life in the model of what he wanted before the Volstrucker training, but also with Beau embracing the Cobalt Soul, Yasha finding new love, Veth and her family restarting their lives in Nicodranas, Jester with a deeply altered but intact relationship with Artagan, Fjord with a new patron, and Caduceus with a renewed grove.

I admit in 2x140 I cheered that nat 1 on resurrection, and the success of the Divine Intervention gave me pause, particularly on the heels of such a fantastic moment between Essek and Fjord after it failed. I went into 2x141 with considerable trepidation, so Taliesin's choice to have Molly remain dead while still making the Divine Intervention mean something was an unexpected joy and some truly excellent storytelling. I do not think it would have worked well had he brought back Molly, though it wouldn't have been quite as egregious as Vax coming back, and I'll talk more about that at the end.

Vax coming back fails on every single level. On a basic level, there is really no mechanical or logical justification for it to happen. There is no attempt from Vox Machina to bring him back as a mortal. There is no reason for him to revert from celestial to mortal (and the fact that he'd already left at the top of the episode really underscores this; I'd still have my other complaints had he still been with Vox Machina at the time of Catatheosis but this really makes no sense); angels of the gods canonically remained such during the first time the gods became mortal. It is not something he asked for, nor Keyleth asked of the Matron. It simply occurs. Then, of course, there is what it means for the characters. What does it say that Keyleth never moved on? What does it say that Vax never gave her the space to do so and now she doesn't have to - particularly in the statements during 4SD that their actions both were somewhat unhealthy and that Vax's inability to let go is what enabled Ludinus's plan to succeed in the first place? What does it say, as this post points out, about Scanlan's choices?

And then there's what it says thematically across the entire decade of storytelling: What does it say about such stories as Orym's or Yasha's, about finding new love after loss? In a narrative where the party was faced with an incredibly difficult choice with far reaching effects (whether or not that narrative was well done, it was a story of choices) what does it say that Vax's conscious choice to become a revenant and have a few more days with the people he loved rather than remain dead was ultimately simply a long inconvenience?

And finally, what does it say about the casts' past statements? I was struck with the grace with which the cast handled the backlash from Molly's death. Liam spoke of the meaning of death in narratives; Ashly Burch shared an incredibly moving essay on the death of her partner at a young age; and the conversation on Talks in which Matt talked about the importance of death was one that at the time I dearly loved. In it, Taliesin pointed out the ephemeral and physical nature of Molly and the concept of that character, and how there was no way to bring back Molly without destroying the entire premise. The reason Molly wouldn't be as much of a failure is because at least it would have been driven by the actions and choices of the Mighty Nein, and that we did not have insight into how Molly felt about his demise.

Because that is the other thing. We've seen Vax multiple times since his death, at Vex and Percy's wedding and at the Malleus Key, and both times he was greatly changed and did not agree to stay. He didn't change his mind; it was changed for him. And in the casts' past statements, Liam has been an advocate (as he was in Molly's death) for the importance of death and tragedy. How does that square with all of what they said then?

It's damning that the only defenses of this decision have been entirely Doylist (when I have both Watsonian and Doylist critiques) - that Happy Endings Are Good. The thing is, Keyleth's story could have been a happy ending, as the Mighty Nein's was despite their loss. It was a choice to have Keyleth never get over it. That is, ultimately, the only choice that was honored. I do understand a desire for a happy ending, but I find this desire for not just a happy ending but a vanishingly narrow and particular one to be childish, self-indulgent, and destabilizing of previous storytelling integrity. The song Tokyo Sunrise always was in a major key, after all.

One thing that came to mind while I wrote this up was something a few people have pointed out about Dragon Age: The Veilguard, which is that it consistently has a message that prioritizing immediate catharsis often feels hollow in the end, and cuts off opportunities for growth and redemption, and the gameplay is consistent with that narrative. It can feel good to punch the First Warden, or to leave the mayor of D'Meta's Crossing to his fate, or imprison Illario, in the moment; but these all ultimately serve as a detriment to your goals. Even fighting or tricking Solas rather than giving him an ending on his own terms, the last choice you can make in a game that ends immediately after, is something many players have reported as feeling unrewarding after a day or two. I do wonder whether this decision, to bring back Vax, felt good in the moment, but will similarly sour and curdle in time.

[ingravinoveritas]

“Who do you cast before you cast Michael Sheen?… Brad Pitt.”

Even if Brad isn’t actually the most attractive, and even if it turns out he’s not a great guy, he’s still like the Meme of Attractive Male Actor. I thought that was interesting.

Oh, my. I hadn't even clocked David mentioning Brad potentially being in the context of him thinking about attractive leading men actors, but yes, let's discuss...

I think there are a couple of possibilities here. One is that David could've just completely picked Brad's name at random and that's all there is to it. Especially given that right before this, he mentions that Johnny Depp was nearly cast as Aziraphale in the adaptation that would've been directed by Terry Gilliam in the early 2000s. So it would make sense for David to be thinking of heartthrobs of that era, which Johnny and Brad both were.

Another possibility is that, in thinking of David's attractions to men--and while I agree with you about Brad not really being a great guy--he definitely can be categorized as that sort of proto-Hollywood conventional standard of attractiveness. He's like a "gateway drug" of male crushes, in a lot of ways. And that also calls to mind something David said in an interview in the Guardian around that same time (1999), about what he would write in a personals ad if he were looking for a relationship:

So if David was really starting to navigate his same-sex attractions back then and realizing that his "type" very broadly was someone who looks not the same way he looks, it makes sense that someone like Brad would come to mind. Another example in that same vein is David on Graham Norton in 2019 calling Chris Hemsworth "a human god" as Thor, because Chris is cut from the same physical cloth as Brad (thinking especially of Brad as Achilles in Troy, as he very much looks like Chris there).

And then I think all of this further ties into what we heard Michael talk about on Kathy Burke's podcast, about his first crush being on John Taylor of Duran Duran and processing that crush by trying to make his hair look like John's. It's very much that thing of, "Do I want to be like him, or do I want to be with him?" that is specific to people of David and Michael's age, because they grew up in a time and place where it wasn't safe to be open or forthright about bisexuality or queerness.

But it's fascinating how similar that feels to the possibility of David thinking of 2000s-era Brad Pitt as hot, and working through those emotions and moving from aesthetic appreciation to physical/sexual attraction. So, in that context, "Who'd you get before you get Michael Sheen?" feels like a parallel to that--that David went for something more conventional before he knew what kind of men were his "type," and once he did figure it out, he found Michael. Male crush then vs. male crush now, as it were...

Oh, I love this. Thank you for giving me so many interesting things to think about this morning, Anon! This was such a delight to answer. Thanks for writing in! x

[blorger]

I think it's important to keep in mind that jkr herself isn't terribly consistent with what she has her characters say. Take for example Luna: she's the only character in the books who calls their father "daddy" but even she says "dad" on a couple of occasions, and not at significant junctures in the plot either, so a jkr slip-up is definitely believable.

As for Draco, I honestly don't think he'd ever call Lucius "dad" to his face or ever refer to him as such to other people but I can see him occasionally use the word "dad" in his head, like he might have done out loud when he was very young.

To me, the "dad" in the train scene makes sense if it's a freudian slip of sort: Draco uses "father" before and after the slip up and, since no-one ever acknowledges the use of "dad", he might not even realize he's said it.

The sentence he's using the word in, "dad and the others will be out in no time", can be interpreted as Draco trying to convince himself just as much as him trying to intimidate Harry. If Draco is secretly worried about Lucius - which seems like a pretty reasonable guess since Draco loves him and he's just gone to creepy jail - this is the moment when said worry would become visible.

This is just my interpretation of course but that is to say that, though I can see your point, I personally can reason my way into accepting Draco's use of "dad" in that one instance.

Going back to Percy, I think it's important to consider the fact that we see him mention/address his father more as the books progress because of authorial intent: jkr chose to have Percy talk to his father more and she also clearly chose how he addressed him. If none of this was her intention, she could have just as easily removed those scenes and/ or substituted Arthur with Molly and the general effect would have remained the same.

I have no horse in the autistic Percy race, though I heartily believe that it definitely wasn't jkr intention to have him read as such. If she'd wanted to have Percy be autistic he'd be the world's most cliche'd portrayal of autism imaginable, like, she's not exactly the most subtle of authors. I can definitely see jkr unintentionally writing an autistic Percy, either by basing his character off of someone and not realising that that person is autistic, or by choosing some character traits that she dislikes for Percy, not knowing that those character traits (that she might have seen on autistic people without realising it) are usually indicative of autism.

Either way, what's more important than jkr's intent is how we end up reading the character, divorced from jkr's shitty views, so autistic Percy is honestly quite believable.

To conclude this rambling essay I'd also like to add that I actually quite enjoyed your answer in that it gave me a new pov to consider things from so don't worry about coming off as rude, I mostly write meta to see what discourse comes out of it so thank you for enabling me :)

One thing I noticed only recently is that the way Percy calls his father and how it's an indication of his storyline's progress throughout the books. Percy's whole character arc is about how he's doing ambition wrong; there's this undercurrent of judgement towards Percy's desire to be an accomplished professional and i think his language reflects that.

Percy has had a very formal way of speaking since the very first book, it's one of the main indicators that we're supposed to read him as a pompous party pooper, but we don't see him address his father until book 3, when jkr starts setting up the ministry plot:

(from PoA: Percy enjoys the treatment Arthur is getting from the ministry, foreshadowing his interest in climbing up the ministerial ladder)

I find the use of the word "Father" interesting: the most notable person we see use the term in the books is Draco, who is very much posh-coded.

(from PS, one of the very first things we come to know about Draco is how he addresses his father: this is a scene from Harry and Draco's first meeting)

A not insignificant facet Draco's personality comes from how his elevated status in society has shaped him to be arrogant and dismissive of other people. Draco speaks like a Fancy Boy, with his "Father"s (always capitalised) and his insistence on calling most people (even his friends and housemates) by their last name.

Seeing Percy start to use the type of language we've been accustomed to see from posh boy extraordinaire Draco is jarring, and it primes us to start disliking him. As Percy's brief foray into the Evil side begins (basically From GoF onwards) Percy starts ramping up in his use of "Father":

and

and

but, at the culmination of his story arc, when Percy is reunited with his family during the battle of Hogwarts, Percy switches to "dad":

This, again, mirrors Draco in that he also changes the way he addresses his father when he's at his most emotional

and I find this very interesting.

[steddiehyperfixation]

holding out for a hero

@steddiebingo prompts: superhero au + fly | 1.8k words | rated T

Eddie doesn't believe in superheroes. He may live most of his life in fantasy, playing fantasy games and reading fantasy books, but contrary to popular belief, he does still know the difference between reality and fiction. And some superhuman wonderboy flying through the streets of small town Indiana sniffing out crimes to stop is definitely fiction, no matter what the local news stations have been saying lately. 

It's all just some angle, some sort of propaganda. “Something to make the ne’er-do-wells scared and the do-gooders feel safer,” as he'd put it in his lunchtime rant earlier this afternoon, stomping atop the high school cafeteria tables and laughing at everyone who jeered at him. He was being dramatic and theatrical, but the point still stands that these stories of a superhero in Hawkins are utter bullshit. Especially since the only evidence the news has been able to cough up on the contrary is a couple of fantastical eyewitness accounts and one singular blurry, grainy, heavily shadowed photo of a random guy jumping over a fence. 

Eddie believes in what he can see, and if there really is a superhero running around Hawkins, he’s fairly fucking certain he would’ve seen it by now. He commits crimes on the daily and no one’s ever stopped him. No masked vigilante has ever interrupted a drug deal. No wonderboy has ever busted him for petty theft. They're small crimes, sure, but it's not like there's too many others doing too much worse around here. To that end, no one’s ever saved him either, when a deal goes south or a bully gets physical, but that’s a weaker argument. Eddie knows he’s not the kind of person most people would care to save.

He certainly doesn't expect to be saved now as he finds himself at a meeting that’s quickly shaping up to be more of an ambush. It was already shady to start with, the details of the deal set up through anonymous notes left in his locker that led him here to wait outside of an abandoned building in the middle of the night, but then the guy marches up with three extra goons behind him, guns on their belts, and it’s only getting shadier. Eddie straightens up from the wall he’d been leaning on, every muscle in his body tensing warily. 

The guy in front gives him a derisive once over. “So you’re Al Munson’s kid, huh?” he sneers, and that’s when Eddie knows he’s really in trouble. 

“Shit.” Eddie raises his hands and starts backing away. “Man, whatever beef you got with Al, it’s got nothing to do with me, alright? I don’t want any trouble.” 

“Right…” The main thug’s lip curls up sarcastically as he advances. His goons advance with him, and as they step out of the shadows Eddie realizes that while two of the goons are respectably big and scary, the other one is just some fucking kid, no more than a few years younger than him. In fact, he’s pretty damn sure he’s passed him in the hallways at school before. That must’ve been who was leaving the notes. 

“Oh, eugh.” Eddie wrinkles his nose in distaste, his stupid mouth running off in reaction to his moral disgust before his brain has the sense to stop it, “Did you seriously rope your fucking kid into this shit? You know the more you get him involved the more it could just as easily end up being him in a situation like this instead of me.” 

He's answered, predictably, by Main Thug slamming a fist into his face. “Are you threatening my son?!”

“No!” Eddie yelps, cowering away as the pain blooms across his face from what is most likely going to become a black eye. “I’m just saying-”  

“Well, stop sayin’.” Main Thug swings again and Eddie tries to dodge out of the way, even throwing up his hands in an attempt to block, but the blow still lands and it stings like hell. His momentary disorientation from being punched again gives Main Thug even more of an advantage, which he uses to grab Eddie by the collar to keep him from moving. “Stop sayin’ and start listenin’. I’d hate to have to kill you before you can make up for what your daddy owes us.” 

“Okay!” Eddie raises his hands once more in surrender. “Okay. Take it easy.” 

Clearly, fighting his way out of this is not an option. These aren’t some high school bullies he can scare away with a single show of self defense and a well-timed weird face; these, with the exception of the random kid, are full grown men at least twice his size who are hellbent on achieving either Eddie’s death or his compliance, and they aren’t picky which. Surrounded and outnumbered, shutting up and staying still seems like his best bet for the moment. Although, he’s not too sure he wants to find out what exactly they want to make him do to pay off his douchebag dad’s debt either. 

He waits until Main Thug is satisfied enough with his surrender to let go of his shirt, and then, in a split-second impulse, Eddie turns and bolts. The half-second advantage of surprise allows him to slip through the circle of goons around him, but after that his luck dries up. His assailants recover too quickly, immediately swearing and chasing after him, and Eddie’s not fast enough to outrun them. He’s caught within moments, one of the big goons grabbing onto him and redirecting his momentum to throw him into a wall. 

“Ow, fuck!” Eddie’s shoulder slams into the wall first, then his back; and even his head gets a good thump against the brick too. The wind knocked out of him, all he can do is brace himself for another hit. But it never comes. 

Instead, the fucking Hero of Hawkins himself comes flying in out of nowhere to barrel down his attackers, very efficiently taking the heat off of Eddie as the thugs are now far more preoccupied with fighting off a goddamn superhero.

“What the fuck?” Eddie blinks the lingering blur of pain from his eyes, squinting to make sure he’s seeing things right. It’s dark and wonderboy’s wearing a mask, but Eddie would recognize that perfectly coiffed hair anywhere. “Steve Harrington?” 

Obviously caught off guard by being recognized, Wonderboy/Steve falters for one fatal second. His startled pause is tiny and brief, all things considered, but it gives the thugs just enough time to regain their footing and draw their weapons. 

“Shit.” Steve reacts in an instant. Within the blink of an eye, he dives towards Eddie, scoops him up bridal style, and launches into flight just before the first gunshot rings out. 

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps, clinging onto Steve’s neck as they rocket into the sky. “Take me out to dinner first!” 

Steve, clearly, does not find this amusing. “We are literally being shot at,” he hisses. 

“Yeah, and that’s very scary, so I’m cracking jokes to cope,” Eddie retorts over the sound of his racing heartbeat and the wind in his ears. “Sue me, Harrington.” 

“I don’t know why you keep calling me that,” Steve lies, evasive gaze trained straight ahead as they stop flying up and start flying forward. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not-” 

“What, not Steve Harrington?” Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Suuuuure. You know, the mask is good and all, but if you really don’t want people to know who you are, you might want to consider wearing a hat or something too. You have very recognizable hair,” he informs him. “And moles,” he adds in an afterthought, continuing to study Steve’s face with the utmost attention. It’s a nice distraction, better than looking down or looking back. “And jawline…and eyes… So really you should probably just wear a whole paper bag over your head, actually,” Eddie decides. “But then I guess that would kill the whole dashing hero vibe you’ve got going, huh?” 

To his surprise, that's what succeeds in making Steve laugh. “Oh wow.” Steve finally looks at him, eyebrows raised in amusement. “You seem intimately familiar with this Harrington guy’s facial structure. Does he know how much you've been looking at him?” 

“What, no, I look a normal amount,” Eddie protests indignantly. “Those are all totally normal things to notice. Especially since they are, like I said, very recognizable features.” 

“Sure. Which is why no one else has ever accused me of having the same jawline as Steve Harrington.” 

“Are you seriously going to keep denying it?”

“I think you got hit just a little too hard tonight,” Steve says, simultaneously dismissing the validity of Eddie’s accusation and redirecting the conversation with such smooth and genuine concern Eddie almost misses the implied insult to his current mental capabilities. “Is your head okay?” 

Eddie chooses not to be offended in favor of responding with a smirk and quip, “I’ve yet to receive a bad review.” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answers more soberly. “Just a little bruised, nothing serious. I’ll live.” 

“Good.” 

After a minute, Steve’s flying slows and he starts making a gradual descent. Eddie finally risks a glance down, watching the entrance to Forest Hills Trailer Park rise up to meet them. Steve's taken him home. 

“Aw man, is the ride over?” 

“Yeah. Go home, take it easy, get some ice on those bruises,” Steve says as he lands gently and sets Eddie back on his feet. “I’m gonna go make sure those guys won’t mess with you again.” 

In the moment where his feet have just settled steadily on the ground but his arms are still around Steve’s neck, Eddie can’t help but press a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek before letting go and swaying out of his space. “Thanks.” 

“Uh- yeah.” Steve stutters for a barely noticeable second before he recovers, nodding in a sort of farewell salute as he starts backing up to leave. “Stay out of trouble.” 

“And pass up the chance to be your damsel in distress again?” Eddie grins. “I don’t think so.” 

Steve huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Then I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Munson.” 

With that, he turns and launches into the air. Eddie watches as he arcs gracefully through the sky and fades into the distance. He stands there staring after Steve even after he’s lost sight of him, the far away silhouette of him disappearing into the night. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters, blinking and shaking himself out of this trance. It still hasn’t quite settled in yet that any of what happened tonight was actually real, but what has settled in is that he’s exhausted and his face hurts. Everything else he can process in the morning. 

He drags himself around and makes his way back to his trailer where he collapses onto his bed and passes out within minutes, sinking into dreams of flying.

[hostess-of-horror]

Turbo/King Candy x Reader Headcanons

💕🏎️🏁A Valentine's Day Special!🍭👑💕

Note: Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! I hope you're all doing well and I figured this would be the perfect time to contribute some headcanons to the Tumblr bandwagon. This is also my very first time writing about Turbo/King Candy in a more fanfiction sense, so please go easy on me!

@sneklover @tiramegtoons/@sliceoflifesalami @starleska @snailstrailz @starryside-1 @depressedasswarlock @crispytubes @pippengin @simpingforcys @blackthewolf17 and anyone else who wants to read this!

Content Includes: Gender Neutral Reader, Slight Suggestiveness but SFW in general, Possessiveness (not Yandere), major spoilers for Wreck-It-Ralph

Hey! Click on each name/title for a love song! (please don't judge me, this got kinda self-indulgent.)

Turbo

For starters, Turbo is... selfish at worst, misguided at best.

Yes, he eventually game-jumps and ends up getting RoadBlasters as well as his own game unplugged, but before all that, he was quite the "charmer."

To many within the Game Central Station, Turbo was insufferable or at least a little annoying. His arrogance was enough for them to steer clear of him, regardless of whatever shenanigans he was up to.

It was worse when it came to him falling for someone. Like, who would ever reciprocate any feelings for this guy?

You. The answer is you.

It caught everyone off guard, including Turbo, who used his signature racing puns as a pick-up line (and not even a good one at that).

Once you accepted, oh boy, was he thrilled!

After a good solid minute of showing off his victory to others at Tapper's, his usual cocky self faded as he realizes you are his now.

Like, truly his.

And with that realization, he is overwhelmed at the mere thought of you actually being his partner.

Turbo still likes being the Best Racer Ever and all that, but this time it's all for you - he just has to let you know that you are one lucky person, what with all the 1st Place victories and the trophies that came with them.

As much as he wants to maintain his "cool and popular" look, he can't help but cartoonishly swoon over you from time to time.

Sometimes, you would catch him staring at you with big ole' heart eyes or hear him giggle like a goofball whenever you're nearby.

He absolutely denies it afterward.

Turbo may not be the epitome of the word "Casanova" but what he lacks in smoothness he makes up for with cheesy puns.

Oh my gosh, you cannot get this man to shut up when it comes to his puns - absolutely loves plays on words!

And of course, they're all racecar themed.

But there are also moments where his puns are rather... risque~

It didn't matter where you two were, if Turbo is feeling particularly mischeivous or really lovey-dovey, he will try to fluster you!

At one point, he tried to get you with one really raunchy pun while on a date and you played along with a slick comeback instead...

Guess you can say it really revved up his engine.

King Candy

Unlike his past self, King Candy is more reserved, having to maintain his sugarcoated facade for over a decade at this point.

He still loves his puns (which are now candy themed), but now he knows how to really treat his partner well.

Be it chocolates of every variety, lollipop roses, jewelry, a trip around Sugar Rush in his racecar - you name it! He is a king, after all!

He will spoil you to death, whether you like it or not.

Not to mention the special treatment you would get as the King's "Thweetheart".

Royal permissions abound - having access to the best seats in any place, not just the Racing Arena, not having to pay for almost anything (although you still pay anyway because it feels illegal not to), having Sour Bill and other servants to cater to you...

Long story short, you got yourself a Sugar Daddy that also just so happens to be a Short King.

Was it to distract you from the fact that he's not actually King Candy? Most definitely, if you're unaware of this.

If for some reason the gifts aren't doing it for you, then His Royal Sweetness will do his damndest to make you swoon through flirting.

You have no idea how or where he gets it from, but that doesn't matter because he really has a way with words...

Sure, they can be flowery and cutesy and maybe even poetic, but there's a sort of tenderness in his voice that never fails to make your heart melt like a marshmallow in hot cocoa.

Especially when he whispers sweet nothings in your ear...

One day, you decide to try and flirt back; that is when you find out your royal beau can be easily flustered!

You took it far enough to make him turn as red as a Hot Tamale - especially when it comes to praises.

Ever since then, King Candy tries his hardest NOT to be flustered into oblivion as you tell him that he's such a good little racer~

How much he dominates all the others in every way possible... and for that he deserves a reward~

... he has yet to succeed.

You may not be royalty (...yet, maybe?) but you certainly felt like one.

King Candybug

Oh, you sweet little thing... what did you get yourself into?

Perhaps you lived and loved him since the peaceful days of Sugar Rush, or since before the RoadBlasters Incident, but regardless...

You are his.

There is horror in a monster's love; a horror in which you cannot resist - to be loved under smiling fangs and sharp claws, where you dance upon that tightrope between life and death

And once you fall, you fall knowing that you're going to be okay.

Despite what happened to him, he's still your lover.

You loved all of him, and even if the world was crumbling down and he was the cause, you somehow saw past all that.

Being the Cybug King's Chosen One is... not what you expected.

You thought he would be more like an animal - a creature driven purely by instincts.

But no. Instead, it's him. The Real Him. That adorably arrogant bastard in all of his glory.

And you reveled in it.

His favorite game to play with you is not Hide and Seek, as fun as it is. No, his favorite game is Flirting~

And his favorite method is lifting up your chin to meet his eyes.

For so long, you had always the advantage. No matter what, you always won.

And he hated it.

It drove him mad, constantly losing to the one race he couldn't beat! He vowed to one day finally conquer it and once he does...

Who knows what will happen next?

So this... this is vengeance.