#both of them are so dense and i love that for them :>

[transmisogyny-explained]

[Image Text 1: “I wish to reiterate her message, grim though it may be: There is no salvation awaiting us in a glorified past that does not exist. If we are to advocate for our humanity, our legibility, and our liberty, it will be as a part of something new, something unprecedented, something we do not as yet have names for. You do not want the ‘veneration’ that the holy men of my culture reserve for us.” /End Image Text 1]

[Image Text 2: “Most reprehensible, however, are the attempts to paint any desires for solidarity between hijras and transsexuals as ‘Western imperialism’, or to enshrine their degendering as a valiant ‘decolonial’ effort to preserve non-Western cultures in all their bloodstained glory. As a disowned daughter of this culture, I wish to state in no uncertain terms:

“If a culture’s preservation depends on the violation and degendering of and denial of dignity to my sisters, then it should join every other extant regime that thrives on injustice, upon the ash-heap.” /End Image Text 2]

[Image Text 3: “...marginalization. Sex is not quite as binary as advertised, because the heterosexual regime has always regarded people as one of human, broodmare, or freak. If you are not a person with autonomy, then you are a vessel for those who are … and if you cannot even be that, then you are a waste of flesh, something to be fucked, killed, or both.

“The butch derided and beaten as a delusional ‘he-she’, the tranny who can be endlessly violated, and even the woman who merely refuses to have children, are bound by this commonality. If we cannot participate in reproduction, we must be fixed … or disposed of.”

[Image Text 4: “On that note, we ought to touch upon one of the most sinister omissions regarding this book, tucked away in endnotes on page 166. In the fourth numbered endnote there, Nanda suggests a slew of texts critiquing the ‘cultural construction of transsexualism by the medical and mental health professions’. Among them is Raymond (1979)—The Transsexual Empire.

“The foundational text of anthropological third-sexing of the hijra affirmatively cites the most famous transmisogynist in existence, laundering her bilious, fervent hatred of transsexuals into the annals of the queer academy.” /End Image Text 4]

[Image Text 5: “The Enlightened West, in all its wisdom, already has a Third Sex: the tranny.” /Image Text 5]

[Image Text 6: “(Trans)misogyny is not a cultural value worth preserving. The development of a cross-cultural transsexual and transfeminist consciousness, rooted in the recognition of how our identities and struggles are similarly shaped, is not imperialism. It is a struggle for liberation, one that queer academia is heinously eager to oppose, and one whose proponents shall no longer be spoken over.” /End Image Text 6]

[Image Text 7: “...reverted to appease that selfsame elite). I do not know how to explain to learned academics that sexual objectification and reproductive exploitation were not innovations that the West pioneered, nor do I know how to explain that historical record of ‘asceticism’, of hijra being prescribed a livelihood of begging for alms at ceremonies, is not ‘reverence’ or an ‘institutionalized gender-role’, but marginalization.” /End Image 7]

[Image Text 8: “#oh i didn’t realise this was a recent post.. read it like yesterday when someone linked it elsewhere #gotta say as another desi tgirl. thank you so much for writing this #i was vaguely aware of most of what was touched but i didn’t really the origins of most of it or how to discuss a lot of it #proceeded to go through the rest of your theory [on transmisogyny and lesbophobia] #your writing is wonderfully lucid and i love how you present concepts #the prose feels fantastic to try digest; even if a but dense for me at times #saved” /End Image Text 8]

[Image Text 9: “#as i read i started thinking the author being critiqued sounded more like ‘being nb is more queer than being binary trans: terf edition’ #and then BAM turns out she cited the terf bible just to remove all doubt #misogyny #and transmisogyny but mostly misogyny (in the form of ‘women who can’t bear children are worthless and that’s what transfems are ergo…’)” /End Image Text 9]

The Third Sex

After months of research and painstakingly connecting the threads of transmisogyny theory, queer activism, and field-wide epistemic injustice, I would like to present "The Third Sex": my treatise on a third-world transfeminism.

[corseque]

On the scale of 1 (Rise of Skywalker) to 10 (Shadowbringer/Endwalker), where would you place Veilguard?

critical post

I’ve burst into enraged tears like 5 times since I finished it, which is not nearly even close to as many times as Rise of Skywalker, but still 5 times too many. Just the shallowness of the writing, the obviousness, the incredible frustration at the simplicity, the ignoring so much of my favorite character in order to make a stupidly simple plot work, the horrendous time I had trying to ignore Rook’s annoying stupid fuckass pov while just trying to self-insert myself into the end of my favorite fictional character of all time’s story after waiting 10 years. I screamed in frustration that I had to hear the painfully obvious commentary these brand newcomer characters who I did not give a shit about, explaining to me like a toddler how I should feel about revelations I have been writing about for 10 years, especially when what they were saying was stupid as fuck. I cried at the thought of so many cutscenes and so much effort went into stories I found very forgettable and went nowhere, while they were able to only scrounge up like 10 total animated shots reuniting Solas and Lavellan. I mourn that I could not make any decisions in a BioWare game. I mourn Solas’ story so much, and probably will for years. I will never get over the way they talked down to him and never listened to him for even a second, lest they actually have to write a branching path into their game. I hate that the theme was regret but Rook regrets nothing ever so (shrugs) regret doesn’t affect them or mean anything to them. I mourn the loss of the voice and point of view of his people, the ones he was fighting for, the ones who are alive. I mourn that it turns out that he’s just a stupid feral dog who is 100% wrong about everything always and he always has been from the beginning of time. I cried that the game said the answer was that Solas should NOT try to help his people and they never even discussed it as a philosophical question or the ethics of it or anything, or playing as a character so dense they never once even wondered if accidentally freeing the gods killed more people overall than the veil coming down would have. (We avoided this question like the plague, lest we feel less like purely Good Heroes who could talk down to the gods with righteous fury). I mourn that I’m never going to know what would have happened without the Veil. I feel so stupid for thinking that elves or spirits as factions would appear in any capacity with lines and perspectives in this game. I’m so angry at how safe and smoothed over everything in the setting is, and how it felt like the main characters never struggled with anything and have nothing to say. I can’t believe Dragon Age is so shallow and unsatisfying and head-empty. I mourn that the story of Dragon Age is Over to me and I will never play another game.

I’ve also cried a few times at the completely separated and individual imagery and music in the last scene. I’ve cried that my favorite character didn’t die in any world after 10 years of being at death’s door. I’ve cried at the thought of him being a little worm spirit, and that I was right about him the whole time. I cried when activating Felassan’s crystal in the final fight and seeing all the buffs. I cried when I turned the page and realized the default inquisitor was exactly the same as my personal Lavellan, down to hair style, eye color, hair color, vallaslin removed. I cried when I realized Solas thought he should have died as a spirit rather than be born. I cried that the main story Dragon Age has been telling the whole time has been about the reconciliation and freeing of my favorite fictional character. I cried that Solas and Lavellan got married in the end, when I genuinely wasn’t expecting either of them to even be alive. They’re both still alive and in love in every single world. I can’t wrap my head around that.

I have no idea where to put it. It’s a few high highs but some intolerably low fucking lows. It could have been so much worse but the bar is on the fucking floor. I go back and forth between moderate enjoyment to just being so angry. It could have been so much more and I do not know who to bite for it.

I have no idea.

[fideozepam]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𑣿ྀིྀ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨

As the Marcellus family arrives to Rome, they brought along their daughter and gifts symbolizing compliance and respect. Their offerings met with the scrutinizing gazes of the now emperors of the powerful Roman dynasty.

The Marcellus villa buzzed alive with preparations as dawn broke. Servants scurried about, packing crates with fine cloths, silver and jars of olives and honey, that represented Lusitania’s loyalty to Rome.

Outside, a gleaming imperial carriage, emblazoned with the eagle of Rome, awaited. Soldiers stood at attention, their armor glinting in the sunlight, while horses snorted and pawed at the ground, ready for the long journey.

Camilla stood at the threshold, her mother fussing over the hem of her travel cloak. “You must make a good impression,” her mother murmured, smoothing the fabric. “You represent us now.”

Her mother’s hands trembled ever so slightly, though her face remained calm and focused. Tugging at the fabric and brushing away invisible specks of dust, her movements were deliberate, slow - as if she was stalling for more time with her little girl.

“I know,” Camilla replied, her voice barely audible. She glanced at her father, who stood silent, his face unreadable, though his eyes betrayed pride and sorrow.

In the Villa’s entrance, carriages awaited for them. Camilla bit her lip and glanced away, her eyes catching the horizon where the estate ended. She'd never been beyond that line before. The thought made her chest tighten.

Her mother straightened the brooch at Camilla's neck, her fingers lingering there a moment too long. When she finally looked up, their eyes met. For a heartbeat, they both froze, as if the world had gone still.

Without a word, her mother brushed a stray curl from her daughter's forehead, letting her hand linger just long enough for Camilla to feel the warmth of it. That simple touch spoke of years of comfort, protection, and love-things that no imperial palace or Roman luxury could ever replace.

Camilla blinked quickly, her vision blurring.

She reached out, gripping her mother's wrist. The older woman paused, squeezing her daughter's hand in return, her own trembling now fully visible.

The carriage driver cleared his throat, breaking the moment. Camilla let go reluctantly, her fingers slipping away from her mother's as if afraid they might break the fragile connection between them. As soon as the three of them got in, everything would start, marking her final steps on the land she was born in.

The carriage door opened, and Camilla stepped inside, her family following. As the wheels creaked forward, she watched their estate shrink into the distance. Her mother’s hand rested on hers, a steady anchor, but Camilla’s mind raced. She was leaving everything she knew—her home, her cat, her sisters, the quiet life of Lusitania—for a future she could scarcely imagine.

The days blurred together. The roads were smooth but long, the air thick with dust from the carriage wheels. At night, they stopped at bustling way stations where soldiers ate loudly and her father drank wine with the Roman envoy.

Camilla spent her evenings seated beneath the stars, trying to sketch the landscapes that passed them-rolling hills, dense forests, and eventually, the glittering sea.

But no drawing could calm her nerves.

At one point, the party crossed a river.

Soldiers rode ahead, their reflections wavering in the water. Camilla felt a pang of unease as she realized how far they'd come.

Her mother noticed her melancholy and tried to cheer her. "Rome will be magnificent," she said. "Think of the temples, the gardens, the people."

"I'm thinking." Camilla replied, managing a faint chuckle as she raised her eyebrows sarcastically, but her mind wandered. Would they treat her kindly? Would her new husband care for her? She was only seventeen and felt as fragile as the thin veils she wore.

“It will be better in Rome.” Her mother assured, caressing the back of her neck.

Two months later, Rome appeared on the horizon, vast and gleaming under the sun.

She pressed her face to the cool glass of the carriage window, her breath misting it. The city seemed alive-columns of smoke from chimneys, crowds hurrying along wide thoroughfares, a roar of voices that reached even out here.

They swept through the front gates, between statues of giants and banners of crimson and gold. Soldiers were at attention, saluting; people stopped and stretched their necks for a glimpse of the carriage and the so talked new bride.

Camilla's heart pounded as they approached the Palatine Hill, where Julia Domna was waiting.

"Remember," her father whispered, "you are no longer just our daughter. You are the Marcellus legacy."

With fingers intertwined in a vise-like grip, Camilla pressed her nails against the flesh of her hands to avoid breaking into tears. She had hardly touched down in Rome, yet it was almost as if she was being dissected for every move, every fault. She briefly glanced at her father, but his composed demeanor could not calm her spiraling thoughts.

Her unknown groom loomed large in her mind. Who was he? Would he be kind-or cruel? The rumors she had heard about Roman emperors whispered dark fates for their wives. What if he didn't like her? Worse, what if he hurt her? The thought made her shiver.

She cast a glance toward her mother, who, for once, seemed unreadable. Her mother's usual soothing presence felt distant, replaced by an expression Camilla couldn't quite decipher-pride? Worry?

Regret?

The carriage came to a halt, and the footman pulled open the door. Camilla's heart dropped as a wave of hushed silence swept over the gathered crowd. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead, and stepped out into the dazzling sunlight, her mind still tangled with dread and the haunting question: What if he's a monster?

The grand hall was alive with murmurs, the expectations of the gathered senators, politicians, and dignitaries palpable. As the Marcellus family crossed the threshold, they were immediately met by the imposing figures of Julia Domna, the moment she entered the reception hall, the Augusta rose from her seat, her regal presence commanding the room.

She was every inch the powerful matriarch, her eyes sharp with the kind of authority that Camilla had only read about in her philosophical texts. Beside her, the two brothers stood, their faces betraying little of the emotions that might have been roiling beneath their expressions.

Caracalla, as always, stood slightly apart, his gaze steady but distant, as though he was sizing up the entire situation before making a move. He was known for his ambition, his need to dominate, but Camilla had heard whispers of his charm, of the way his confidence could make one feel seen-something that intrigued her, even though she had never spoken a word to him.

Geta, on the other hand, stood at Julia's side, quieter, perhaps more reserved in the shadows of his brother's more dominant presence. There was something about Geta's calm demeanor that left her unsure of where she stood.

Camilla's father, Lucius Marcellus, stepped forward, bowing deeply. His voice carried the practiced deference of a provincial noble addressing Rome's most powerful family.

"To the most revered Augusta Julia Domna and the noble Caesars, Imperatores Marcus Aurelius Antoninus and Publius Septimius Geta, the Marcellus family of Lusitania humbly presents itself."

Julia Domna's gaze, sharp and discerning, lingered on Camilla. A faint smile crossed her lips as she studied the young bride.

Lucius gestured gently toward his daughter, who stood hesitantly by her mother's side, clutching her cloak.

"May I present my daughter, Camilla Marcellus, who humbly comes to serve the imperial household and Rome itself."

Camilla gently bowed her head, her heart racing under the weight of so many eyes. She dared not lift her gaze to meet the imperious stares of the Caesars at either side of Julia Domna, though she could feel their scrutiny like a physical force.

After the family’s introduction, the Augusta graciously acknowledged their presence, “Senator Marcellus, Lady Marcellus, and your esteemed daughter, we welcome you to Rome, the eternal city that now looks forward to a union strengthening our shared destinies. Your presence honors us."

Her tone was regal yet approachable, she glanced meaningfully at Camilla as she continued,

"The journey from Lusitania is not a small one. You must be fatigued, yet you stand before us with grace. A testament, no doubt, to your noble lineage and fortitude."

Camilla’s grip on her robes tightens, raising her head to lock her eyes with her piercing ones,

Lucius gestures to their servants to bring the gifts forward.

Each item was meticulously unwrapped to showcase the Marcellus family's wealth and allegiance. He smiled proudly and spoke again,

"These, Augusta, are humble tokens of our reverence for Rome, for your illustrious family, and for the union that will further strengthen our bond with the dynasty."

Julia Domna and the brothers inspected the gifts with a keen eye, nodding approvingly.

There was a moment of silence as the gifts were presented, but the tension in the room was palpable. Camilla felt her palms grow clammy under the weight of the situation. Her eyes flickered to the two brothers - Caracalla first, who watched her with an air of quiet amusement. His sharp eyes lingered on her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Then, her eyes flickered to Geta, who stood silently beside their mother, his posture more reserved but no less imposing. He regarded her with a sense of seriousness that made her wonder if he knew more than he was letting on.

Julia Domna held up her hand, signaling for quiet. The room settled into an eerie silence. Her gaze, cool and calculating, swept over the two brothers, then to Camilla, and finally back to the Lusitanian family.

"It is truly a great honor to have you here, Camilla. The question remains, however.." Her voice dropped to a more playful tone, "..which of my sons will you be marrying?"

At this, Camilla's breath caught in her throat. She had known for months that this marriage was arranged, that it was political, but until now, she had never been told which son she would marry. Her mind raced as she turned to her father, but he gave her no reassurance. He simply watched the scene unfold, his face unreadable.

Julia's smile widened as she watched the confusion spread across Camilla's face.

The air was thick with tension, and Camilla's heart seemed to thump painfully in her chest.

And then, Julia Domna, clearly enjoying every second of the suspense, finally broke the silence with a voice that seemed to stretch the moment to its limits. "Well, then," she said, her smile now almost imperceptible, "I think we've kept the decision in suspense long enough."

She turned to Camilla, her eyes glimmering with mischief. "The decision has been made. But you shall not know which son will be your husband just yet."

The Empress's laugh, soft but chilling, rippled through the room, leaving Camilla with no choice but to nod, unsure of whether her future would lie with Caracalla's brash confidence or Geta's quiet composure.

The game, it seemed, had just begun.

lmk if u wanna get tagged ! | tags : @quuinyoung @mewchiili @darkwhisperswolf @peakygirl1919 @madmads007 @eirone-and-cheese @kitkat80

[viole-santori]

DEUCEDES AS THAT ONE MEME !! 🦂 ♤

I was going to draw them gesturing to either Riddle or Ace but I wouldn't be bothered with drawing the back of someone's head and I have had this in my drafts for sooo long. I hope it looks okay! The lighting is a bit green-toned and idk if I like it so I have the un-lighted version at the bottom of this post.

Deuce and Des' relationship is comedic in and of itself because they spend/spent so long not being a couple. After all, neither realized it for almost a year. Des and Deuce are both new to love, Des is non-emotive most of the time, and Deuce is a bit Dense. Dense Spade.

I want to yap, post more about them, but I am busy 😭 💔

Viole Santori (c) @kiyomizuki Deuce Spade, Twisted Wonderland (c) Twisted Wonderland Do not use/repost my artwork without my permission. Do not train AI with my art. Do not use my art or OC in any way without consent.

There is one post somewhere on this blog that is tagged with Deuce "Space" instead of "Spade." And I can't find it so tell me if you see it wwww

No lighting version + meme utc:

No Lighting:

Original Meme:

[spiderb00]

Crochet Hearts - Sakura Miyawaki

Sakura Miyawaki X Reader 

Synopsis - A cozy night with your girlfriend. 

Genre – Fluff 

a/n - I have no words to describe how much I loved writing this! <3

(btw, reader is only a year younger than Sakura)

Soft jazz played in Yn's room, the low lights along with the beautiful melody made the room feel extremely cozy. On the bedside table were two steaming mugs of lemon-and-lemon tea, and the aroma of the scented candles, which Sakura lit, spread throughout the room. In bed, the two bodies followed different paths, but always connected.   

Sakura seemed focused on her handicrafts, the woman loved to do her crochet things, in moments like this Sakura could relax and only do something she liked around the person she loved. Meanwhile, next to the older woman, Yn had her head engrossed in a book, the story had captivated the younger woman, and now she was one hundred percent steeped in another world.   

The only thing that reminded her of reality was her girlfriend's legs on top of her thighs. Yn ran her hands over Sakura's defined thighs according to the saxophone melody, oh, how Yn loved that.   

Lowering the book from her vision, Yn looked at the art in the hands of Sakura, her girlfriend with a smile on her face, happy to have finished another piece. Closing the book, Yn had now placed both hands on top of Sakura's thighs, now raising her hands every second. 

"You look even more beautiful when you're focused, you know?" Yn says as she leans over to kiss the older woman on the cheek. While Sakura lets out a giggle.   

"Can I say the same thing about you, how can you be so beautiful just by reading it?" Sakura said, her hand reaching out to scratch the back of Yn's neck, making the younger woman shiver instantly.   

"You can't do this to me." Yn said, taking her girlfriend's legs off her and leaning over, so that her face was level with Sakura's face. 

"And why not?" Sakura said, immediately placing her two hands around the back of the younger woman's neck.  

"It makes me want to end the peace we are in now." Yn said.  

Leaning further, their lips touched, a simple kiss, two simple kisses, three, four, until their tongues finally met in the kiss. Sakura lying down, pulling the younger girl along with her. With Yn lying on top of the older girl, her hands flew into the pajamas Sakura wore, the warm skin of the Japanese woman brought comfort to the younger woman. Yn felt that she could stay there for the rest of her life.   

The women's kiss seemed to fit perfectly, the background music and crackles of the kiss that the couple exchanged was the only thing that could be heard inside the room. And as much as the two would rather die breathlessly than separate, they knew they needed to let go, if only for a moment.  

Leaving kisses on the older woman's lips, Yn pulled away settling into the side of the Japanese girl's body, her hands still tracing patterns on Sakura's exposed abdomen. The younger woman admired every detail of the Japanese woman while Sakura returned the look. The two of them couldn't look away, pure, dense love, everything seemed so beautiful, simple, poetic.   

Sakura tucked a lock of hair behind the younger woman's ear.   

"I could spend every day of my life, every hour and minute, like that, with you." Sakura said as she pressed her lips into a thin line, humidifying them right after.  

"I would drop everything if you said you wanted to live like this for the rest of your life." Yn said laughing.   

"It was what I wanted most in the world. But while we can't do that, I want to enjoy every moment like that." The Japanese woman said, leaning on her elbows and stealing a kiss from her girlfriend's lips.   

Yn laughed, leaning in and kissing back, making Sakura lie her back on the mattress again.   

"I love you."  

"I love you." 

YES, first story outside of Katseye.

I want to start writing for the other GG's that I like and that was the official start for that.

[s0fter-sin]

rewatching s1 and in ep3 w*ndigo, dean makes a joke about not bringing provisions into the woods just to pull out a bag of peanut butter m&m’s and stick with me here, it’s why the later seasons’ “goofy dean” loses me

this moment is clearly a joke but if you think about it too much, it also makes some sense; a family size bag of peanut m&m’s is calorie dense and even the high sugar is good to keep you moving which they need on an overnight hunt. it also shows how due to their upbringing, they’ve had to eat lower quality food, things they always had access to that was cheap and also in bulk

what does dean eating ghost pepper jerky then tipping water on himself exist for other than to be a cringy joke? what does smelling old chinese food, testing to see if it's still good then shaking his head with cabbage hanging out his mouth when it isn't serve? it's just to make him look stupid and contrast sam's healthy/clean diet (and superiority but that’s another conversation) which has always existed but it used to be nuanced and natural

we see dean as a child give up the food he wanted to eat so sam could eat it. (“i’m sick of spaghetti-os,” “you’re the one who wanted them,” … “i want lucky charms!” “… there’s only enough for one bowl and i haven’t had any yet!” proceeds to give them to sam, 1x18) we know he hustled and stole food to ensure sam ate. (“so, what’d he take?” “get this- peanut butter and bread.” 9x07)

we also see throughout the early seasons dean teasing sam about his salad or healthy choice while he eats some form of burger or other fast food (or notably, cheerfully eating prison food that sam won’t touch, 2x19). it's typical sibling teasing but it also shows that it isn't new for sam to eat like that and for dean to know he eats like that

sam being picky isn't just a character trait they chose for him, it's a result of how dean raised him; he raised him to like and want healthy food and be food secure enough to reject food he didn't want

but dean eats anything he is given and seeks out unhealthy - cheap, plentiful, filling - food

he is the opposite of picky to the point of it being a consistent bit; they show him multiple times eating when it's socially frowned upon to do so eg. questioning a grieving victim when they're trying to be discreet (1x14, 2x15, 2x18)

a similar moment to the chinese food is in 4x19; dean wakes up in the car while sam brushes his teeth outside and is hungry. sam says there's a sandwich in the backseat, dean smells it and recoils bc it's an old tuna sandwich. the moment is funny on its own but it also exists as a comparison of their lives to adam's; he has a loving mother, goes to school and importantly, a steady stable childhood

it’s a joke with a purpose

it also supports dean's food insecurity; he wakes up and is immediately hungry, enough to complain about it and seek out food before anything else

dean is always hungry bc he never has access to nutritionally rich foods bc he got used to using the money he earned to buy sam's more expensive food. he got used to his cheaper, denser foods and grew up with (and continues to live with) intermittent access to said foods. think of how long it takes to drive from one state to another; how many hours it can take to see another town that offers food, if you arrive at a reasonable enough time for anything to be open. also think how they can’t keep any food beyond what fits in an esky; nothing that needs defrosting, nothing can be heated up. it’s bags and jars and take out for as long as they can trust it

then they get the bunker which has its own kitchen

dean even describes himself as "nesting" when he decorates his room, something he hasn't had since he was four years old, and he uses said kitchen to cook a burger from scratch that he is proud of. he is food secure for the first time in his life and it shows in how often he cooks for both himself and sam

so these moments where they have him acting goofy regarding food are no longer character driven and only exist as a joke which is why they come across as cringy and out of character compared to similar earlier moments

a lot of my issues with dean's characterisation started when they introduced the bunker. the argument can and is made that the reason these jokes happen is bc he feels safe in the bunker, that bc he now has a home he can relax and unmask but that still doesn't feel sufficient. they crank up these sillier moments for both of them, giving them a sort of playing house comedy vibe of two roommates with completely different personalities but it doesn't feel like an authentic progression. it feels forced; an attempt at humour for humour's sake

food stopped being an informed part of their characters and their trauma and instead became flanderised; sam is the judgy vegetarian health nut and dean is his borderline slovenly carnivore counterpart

[dogpawsswapgod]

CaitVi love scene extended

never in my life have i written fanfic but the CaitVi love scene in Arcane season 2 left much to be desired so i just wrote it myself.

CaitVi gentle smut below the cut.

“I’m sorry to say you’re getting a bit predictable,” Cait smiled warmly, a playful flirtiness in her eyes despite the stakes, despite everything.

In that look, Vi saw a glimmer of a future she never thought possible. Tears welled in her eyes and she felt her heart beating thru every inch of her body as she reached out, unthinkingly, pulling Cait into her and covering her lips with desperate kisses.

Cait, surprised, let this happen, closing her eyes and thinking “Here is as good a place as any, it doesn’t matter where. It only matters that it’s her,”

She pulled back suddenly, a pang of guilt pulsing thru her.

“Uh, while you were gone, I, erm, saw someone…” she confessed, a little sheepish.

“Cait,” Vi was looking into her, reaching out for her again, “I don’t fucking care!”

Vi’s hands were rarely unwrapped as they were now, holding Cait’s face close to her’s as they kissed. They were rough, bloodied from whatever surface they’d last collided with, the cell wall most likely, or some Enforcer’s jaw… Cait stepped back again, this time, pulling her turtleneck over her head in one quick motion. Vi stood stunned for a moment. Cait’s slight shoulders, milky and so clean. The kind of clean only a lifetime in the uppercrust of Piltover would allow for in such a polluted world. Her breasts were small and inviting, the nipples large and brown and perked up with the chill of the drafty cell and the excitement of what was about to happen. While Vi gawked, Cait began unfastening Vi’s undershirt. It fell away revealing her hard core and vanishingly small breasts, also strangely unwrapped tonight. She was covered all over with bruises, scars, grime that doesn’t really ever wash away. Vi reached two fingers forward and touched for the first time a new part of Cait, the soft skin just below her collar bone. She slid these fingers down and caressed one paunchy nipple. Cait, in turn, reached a regretful hand toward the bandage on Vi’s side, stroking it gently before Vi gripped her arm, almost too hard, and pulled her into her once more.

Their kissing grew more frantic, their hands caressed one other and they giggled and smiled between smooches as Vi struggled a moment to unclip Cait’s belt. After two or three tries, she succeeded, and slid her rough-palmed hand beneath the fabric and around to the soft, round fat of Cait’s ass. Sliding the other hand in and back, Vi lowered herself little by little, leaving small kisses down Cait’s belly while sliding her uniform down to her ankles. Vi looked up a moment with eyes asking a silent question, and Cait, looking down, answered wordlessly, yes.

Vi breathed in deep, filling her lungs with the sweetest, cleanest scent she’d ever known. Before her, a small, dense clump of deep blue hair gave off the delicate aroma of brine. She smelled like sweat and the seaside. Vi breathed again, then parted her lips to give Cait their second first kiss.

Cait, pressed by Vi’s warm, hard body against the cool, dry stones of the cell wall, felt as Vi’s lips made contact with hers, and felt as Vi’s tongue, hot and hardened, pushed thru them, finding her clit, half erect and wanting. She gasped, loudly, her head lolling back and her eyes closing. Vi began firmly stroking into Cait with her practiced tongue. She was deliberate and patient, working a gentle rhythm as Cait’s hips responded to her lips and tongue. Cait exhaled, falling forward and grasping Vi’s hair in both hands, a first quiet moan escaping her throat.

Hearing this, Vi peered up once more to see the Enforcer’s face looming close. Vi’s hands moved fast, up and around Cait’s slight hips and thighs, pulling them onto each of her tattooed shoulders. Slowly, without stopping her deep kiss, Vi began to stand. Wrapping her legs around Vi’s head, still clinging to her greasy pink locks with both hands, Cait felt herself being lifted. She opened her eyes, feeling the stone scraping against her naked back as Vi slid her up the wall, still expertly probing and exploring with her tongue and lips, nipping here and there with her teeth. 

Vi continued to rise with Cait on her shoulders. Cait was looking now over the top of the cell door, which she’d left open. It was swinging slowly outward into an empty hall. The prison had been nearly emptied since the attack from within, and with the guards all stationed at the Hexgates–meant only to allow Vi the chance to go to her sister, whatever may have come of that–the two women were alone on this level, and free to take their time and make their noise. 

Cait knew this had been a risk, that leaving the way clear for Vi to come to Jinx meant the possibility of never seeing Vi again. There was something between the Enforcer and the ex-con from the Undercity, but Cait had known that Vi’s love for her sister was her first love, and so had accepted that meant Cait might come in second following Vi and Jinx’s meeting here in this cell. It wasn’t a risk she was willing to take, it was what she had to do for Vi, because Cait loved her. Loves her. So when she walked down here tonight she expected only to find an empty cell, and held out no hope for a happier ending than that. But there stood Vi, her back turned to her as when they’d first met. 

Cait closed her eyes again as Vi’s hands gripped her thighs and her tongue pushed past her clit deep into her. She gasped, and Vi pushed harder.

Vi’s hands found their way up Cait’s back, and, pulling her away from the wall, gripped her around the middle, Cait bracing herself against Vi’s thick, strong forearms, the top of her head nearly brushing the ceiling of the cell  as Vi stood, her back straight, sturdy, and strong in the center of it, her lover aloft on her wide shoulders, her head tilted back and her mouth buried deep into the center of this woman she loves. 

“She tastes…” Vi thought, and the thought gave way to the flavor itself. Cait’s wetness was sweet, her thighs pressed hard against either side of Vi’s head and the deepness of her pulled Vi in, squeezing around her tongue and enticing her inward. Vi needed to be deeper inside, and fast. Her own clit was throbbing and aching with it, and blood was pounding in her ears, which Cait’s thighs were squeezing ever tighter. 

For a minute, Vi winced, thinking that if this had happened at any other time, in any other place, she would have her prosthetic at hand. She could strap it on quickly, and it provided a deep, haptic feedback typical of prosthetics made in the Undercity. It was adjustable, so she could give Cait what she wanted, no more, no less. Following what she could only assume was tampering by Jinx who must have found it during one of their brief parlays, it could even be made to rumble and vibrate and bump with music while being used.

Alas, this was happening here, now, and Vi didn’t regret that. If they survived tomorrow’s battle, there would be other chances to play with this toy, to feel each other in this way. For now, Vi would make do with her mitts, like always.

The brawler knew it was time to take this to the mat. Gripping tightly around Cait’s slim waist, Vi unleashed a modified suplex, quickly but gently bringing them both to the cold stone floor, Vi padding Cait’s landing with her arms cradled under her back, her hands stabilizing her head. In one deft, quick motion, Vi brought them from standing, Cait stacked on Vi’s shoulders, down to the ground. 

Cait opened her eyes, surprised, and Vi’s smiling face swam into view. Cait placed two soft palms on either side of it, and pulled her close, tasting her own salt sweetness on Vi’s lips as they kissed again. They lay like this for a moment, kissing deeply, breathing loudly thru their noses as they did, soft whimpers and moans escaping each of them. Slowly, Vi slid a hand from Cait’s plum-sized breast, down her soft belly, back toward her warm, now very wet middle. Pulling back from their kiss, a small string of saliva stretching, then breaking as she did, Vi looked deep into Cait’s eyes as she slid the first finger inside her.

Cait’s mouth curled into a slight smile as she held Vi’s gaze. Vi, taking the hint, slid a second, then a third finger inside, and felt as Cait responded reflexively, gripping the tugging on her long, hard fingers, as if to pull them in deeper. They held each other's gaze, pressing their foreheads together and breathing raggedly into eachothers open mouths as Vi worked gently in and out. The prison, usually a din of swearing inmates and bickering guards, was quiet except for the pulse of their deepening breaths and the soft, wet sound of Vi massaging her right hand into Cait.

Once she’d slipped in four fingers past the knuckles, she paused, gently nuzzling Cait’s chin with her nose, still moist from their deep kiss. Cait, lifting her head, pressed her lips into Vi’s saying “more…”

Vi closed her eyes and, pressing her thumb into her palm, pushed her whole hand into Cait up to the wrist, eliciting a sharp gasp, followed by more squeezing and drawing in from deep inside.

Vi’s knuckles, bloodied with cuts that never heal, burned in the vaguely acidic chamber of her lover’s body. She relished it–a pain sweeter than any she’d ever known. A balm for her sore, bruised knuckles that she knew only Cait could provide. Vi paused for a moment, overwhelmed by what was happening. Her hands were weapons. Hard fists for punishing cocky trenchers, deadly tools for causing pain, yet here she was, wrist deep inside an Enforcer of Piltover who was moaning and quivering with the pleasure of it. 

Vi curled her fingers into a fist and pushed deeper. Cait responded by spreading her legs wide and bearing down onto Vi’s advancing fist–not a weapon now, but a lover’s hungry touch. Vi opened her fist once more, turned her hand slightly within, and set into a rhythm, in and out, rocking Cait back and forth, her perfect breasts splayed to either side of her narrow chest, bobbing with the rhythm. 

Sweat beads dripped from Vi’s forehead onto Cait’s lips as they rocked into one another for how long, they weren’t sure. Their eyes fluttered open and closed, their lips found each other again and again in wet, loud smacking kisses. Cait opened her mouth and began to moan loudly, steadily, as Vi worked her hand inside of her, removing her thumb to rub the now-rock hard clit here and there and intensify the sensations of their coupling.

Vi, still dressed from the waist down, was soaked thru with sweat, the crotch of her trousers made doubly wet by her arousal. Cait slipped her fingers under the hem of Vi’s pants, teasingly tickling the tuft of hair that trailed upward from her mons, but went no further.

“She’s toying with me,” thought Vi, “i’d hate it if it wasn’t so fucking hot,” and she worked harder to please Cait, opened her eyes and drank in the sight of her, nude, milk white, spread out on the gray stone floor of one of her prison cells, a trencher’s deadly fist pushing and pulling screams of pleasure from her. Vi slowed her rhythm, sensing that Cait was close. 

Suddenly, Cait gripped Vi around the neck, arching her back, squeezing her eyes firmly closed. Vi felt the tell-tale pulse travel from deep within Cait, down along the length of Vi’s hand to her wrist. Cait’s lips curled back, exposing her white teeth, the little gap between the two front ones the only “imperfection” her upper class Piltover upbringing had allowed her to keep. Cait was beautiful, but this little imperfection made her stunning. Vi was suddenly stricken with how in love with this woman she was. 

Vi moved her face close and curled her fingers one more time into a fist while Cait rocked forward and let out a low, loud moan. Her strong, slim body trembled, the part of her gripping Vi’s fist tightly shaking and spasming wildly. Vi pressed her open mouth to Cait’s to drink in her wail, and felt her own body quivering with little bursts of intensity followed by a floods of relief; Cait’s orgasm strong enough to inspire half a dozen little ones between Vi’s legs.

One last string of spasm rocked thru Cait and around Vi’s softening fist before she felt the Enforcer melt into the floor, limp and exhausted, Vi’s hand slipping easily out into the cold air of the cell.

Cait lay a moment motionless, felt Vi’s wet, warm hand grip her thigh, then gently pinch her chin. Opening her eyes, Cait first saw a blurry gray of the ceiling of the cell, then a flash of pink, then her lover’s eyes, looking into her’s.

“You ok?” Vi’s voice shook a little, betraying her excitement.

“Nothing is ok right now,” Cait said, suddenly serious again. Then, softening, she took Vi’s face into her hands once more, and kissed her more sweetly, a kiss that sealed things, that made clear that this wasn’t a fluke or a one time thing.

“We might both die tomorrow,” Cait continued, their lips still close.

“Well, don’t sugarcoat it, cupcake!” Vi replied, resting her head on Cait’s chest. Laying like this, Vi could hear the steady beating of Cait’s heart, slowing gradually as they came down from the excitement of what had happened.

“No, I just mean… We could both die tomorrow. Any number of things could happen tomorrow. But tonight,” she paused again, and Vi looked up at her, a pair of powder blue eyes, watery and warm. Cait pushed her fingers into the oily pink hair and smiled.

“Tonight, we got to be who we really are to each other,” Cait finished. “I don’t want to die, but if I do, it’s not so bad. Bc I got to have you,”

Vi heard the unspoken words. Cait heard them too. They could feel “I love you” hanging between them, unsaid, but deeply felt. They might not get their chance to speak it after tomorrow, yet there was no urgency to say it now.

They settled in, wrapping their arms around each other, drifting in and out of light sleeps. After a while, Cait raised her head a little, Vi was chuckling.

“And what’s funny?” she asked

“Nothing,” answered Vi, “It’s just… I told you the Undercity would eat you alive!”

[samarecharm]

If i start posting dc stuff on here, it means i lost the fight w myself. The demons won. Im sorry

[ridl]

I love ganqing bc it's just two normal, mature women. Even if Ganyu is more withdrawn, Keqing wouldn't be able to stand the hesitation and inaction for too long, so if she wants to confess she's just gonna do it. No stupid, endless, mind games and bullshit <3

Dense Keqing is also good i think, bc Ganyu wouldn't be that smug annoying asshole who berates the other for "being dense and not asking them out" while putting no effort into it themselves, she'd just find it endearing and try to communicate better until it works. She's patient. And it's also interesting to think abt Ganyu taking a leaf out of Keqing's book, and finding the boldness to just confess herself despite her quiet, withdrawn nature. If clear and straightforward is what Keqing likes best, then Ganyu could perhaps do it like that for her

[funkle420]

sorry for yapping so much today lol BUT

i wanna yap abt marcille and falin. i feel like when they were in school, maybe marcille didn't have romantic feelings for falin yet but admired her curiosity and aptitude for magic.

then later, during the time that they and laios were exploring the dungeon together, that's when she started to fall for her. she saw how capable and brave she was in action. i think for her that combination of strength and bravery with delicacy and charm really did it for her, like the prince on horseback the succubus turns into for her. marcille wants a partner who's pretty and romantic, but not weak or shallow.

Falin also says at one point before Marcille joins their party that she thinks Marcille treats her like she's 10, and while i think this is mostly her being self-conscious, it's clear that Marcille babies her like how other people of long-lived races tend to do to everyone else, despite them being developmentally in the same life stage. It seems more likely that, in the dungeon, Marcille grew to see Falin more as she truly is, rather than the limited side of her she saw in school.

Then during the events of the story, she slowly comes to realize her feelings are romantic, especially when she hears Laios talk about how much Marcille meant to Falin.

Falin, on the other hand, I don't know when I think she fell for Marcille or realized those feelings, but I do think that she knew she was attracted to Marcille by the start of the events of the story. After she was resurrected, I think their interactions show that. My interpretation is that after the conclusion of the events of the manga, Falin made the first move. Like a lot of people who've had NDEs, maybe she felt like she shouldn't hesitate to say how she feels.

(pls recommend good post-manga fanfics!!! not just abt farcille but abt anything, i love seeing ppl's ideas abt what happens after)

[kris-mage-fics]

1,3, 4, 24 and 25 for Kyrahlise and Blade for the OCxLI OTP asks!

When I saw your ask I had to do a double-take, because I figured that you’d ask about Kyrah and Chase! But Kyrahlise and Blade are fun too! And so frustrating before they get together, lol! Now, without further adieu, here are the answers to the Romance Asks *dramatically gestures towards the answers*

1. What drew your character to their LI and vice versa?

Blade was drawn to Kyrahlise because she’s kind, hardworking, always trying to do what’s right, and keeps improving her combat abilities and magic. She also acts like she feels at ease around him and teases him. (Which gets to my headcanon that he likes it when people aren’t afraid of him and act normal around him.) 

Kyrahlise was drawn to Blade because despite all he’s done and seen, he’s still very kind and considerate. Also he’s incredibly fun to tease! He respects her abilities and knowledge, and she feels safe speaking her mind to him because he gives what she has to say due thought. What seals the deal is in Chapter 4 when he’s so angry about what happened to her. It’s been a long time since anyone has given a shit if she were safe, or wanted to protect her.

3. When they are having a fight, what is it about and how do they deal with it? 

The number one thing these two would fight about is Kyrahlise feeling like Blade is overprotective of her, and Blade feeling like she is too independent and reckless. Once Kyrah understands just how scared he is of losing her, and that he needs to know she’s safe, she’s going to take a long hard look at how she acts. She’ll agree to work on making her safety a higher priority, and communicating better before she runs off. When Blade realizes that she feels a little stifled and like he doesn’t fully trust her, I’m sure he’ll agree to reign in his protectiveness to some degree. Of course it’s something they both have to work on to find a balance, but they will eventually.

The silly thing about this argument is that she likes that he’s protective, and he likes that she’s independent and wants to tackle problems! They just both think the other takes it too far.

4. Their favorite physical feature on each other?

According to Lena, romanced!Blade loves MC’s eyes, hair, and lips (or just face in general), and we know he’s into a nice butt! I change my mind regularly as to which is his favorite, but right now I'm going to say her eyes!

Kyrahlise loves Blade’s smile! It fills her with joy to see him happy and relaxed enough to genuinely smile. She has an internal ‘got the stoic, ex-assassin to smile’ counter! Overall she thinks he’s a very beautiful and handsome man, but his smile is her favorite.

24. Is there any moment that happens between them that you know happens and just makes you melt? 

One time Kyrahlise sat on Blade’s lap briefly as he’s working to tell him something and give him a little kiss before getting up to read. (He’s a head taller than her, so she uses whatever she can to make it easier to kiss him!) But Blade doesn’t want her to go, so she’s like “fine, I’ll just read here” thinking that he’ll eventually get tired of her sitting on his lap. (She severely underestimates how much he likes having her close, lol) But he’s warm, and she feels very safe and cozy, so she falls asleep. Since he doesn’t want to wake her up, he stops working. And he’s probably having a hard time not staring at her because he thinks she’s very cute!

25. Share any headcanons about their relationship.

As soon as Blade lets her, Kyrahlise starts cutting his hair. She secretly thinks his haircut is atrocious. Though once she gives him a better haircut she realizes she played herself because now he looks even more handsome! (Kyrah’s been cutting her own hair since her mother died. Most people can’t be trusted to cut curly hair right, and she’s a touch vain about her hair.)

They trade books of poetry with each other and then talk about which ones they like and why. It’s like a little book club with just the two of them!

Blade’s office stops looking quite so bare, because Kyrahlise makes him some art to put up. If anyone dares to criticize it or make any disparaging remarks about it in his presence they get his death glare!

[fluffalpenguin]

Hey, do you think you could draw some poisonappleshipping? (Yugo, Yuri, Rin) I’ve been a fan of you since around April and it would be really cool if you could draw my rarepair

I don't really have time nor energy for requests but here's some of my old ones!

[danmeichael]

both ad lib lovers and the summer hikaru died to something really interesting wherein they take typical genre conventions and set-ups of BL and place them into a genre other than romance, while still portraying the romantic undertones. where the summer hikaru died does this with horror, ad lib lovers does this with comedy.

as opposed to hikaru's focus on horror, in ad lib lovers, jealousy, desire, and a fear of inadequacy and loving someone more than they love you is portrayed through the lens of improv. this accurately depicts that having a crush on someone as an adult is humiliating.

[love-is-a-pearl]

One thing I like about Ash and Dawn as a ship is that Dawn will be completely unfazed with him 90% of the time but some rare times she will act vaguely like a tsundere or explode into a blushing mess.

[mysunshine-youremoonlight]

actually I am very curious about who Aika is :3 could you tell me about the silly possibly?

YESSSSS I GET TO TALK ABT AIKA !!!!!!!!!!! im just. gonna add a read more bc i. can ramble abt him for forever if u let me

he's my little sakuma brother oc <3 he's the youngest of the three (and in the same year as tsukasa at yumenosaki) . he was named by rei (his name means "love song" and is read 愛歌 (with "uta" being read as "ka" instead) . and bc the sakumas seem to get progressively weaker aika is the weakest of the three and was even more sheltered than ritsu and had to be held back a year bc he missed so many classes (aika was in the same class as ritsu originally, then was held back and ended up in tsukasa's class. rip them both getting held back) so he tends to have to contend with being pretty weak even into his adolescence, although he tries to not let it get to him (sometimes to his own detriment) <- im like pretty sure i have that timeline right. ritsu's repeated 1st year is aika's first 1st year, then ritsu becomes a second yr and aika is held back and ends up in tsukasa's class. i think all three sakumas are briefly at yumenosaki together?

aika is really good at piano since playing was one of the few things he could do when he was younger, and ritsu and aika in particular have quite a few duets they've written together (along with a few songs with rei) . he also shares the sakuma trait of being way too smart for his age bc he spent a Lot of time in the sakuma manor library . aika's decent at composing but tends to mostly just write songs with his brothers (and a few with tsukasa down the line)

aika also joined knights, though bc of how weak he is he doesn't properly debut until late into his second year when he can properly keep up. although aika's vocals can be heard on album versions of knights songs he didn't appear in lives until then !! his title is similar to ritsu's - "the shining knight that guides through the night" ! ritsu watches over the night, and aika shines the way through it~

aika looks almost identical to ritsu up until rei returns from overseas, when aika starts growing his hair out (there's angsty reasons behind it <3) although he has more of a penchant for wearing hairclips and accessories . the two are still hard to distinguish at times tho . minus their height difference that is extremely obvious when they're together. (aika's like 160cm. ritsu is 171.) plus he tends to steal ritsu's clothes which makes it harder to distinguish them at times.

he tends to act pretty bright and bubbly as a way to cover up his illness and weakness, although it's obvious to people he's close to that it's an act. he's very good at hiding his actual feelings to spare people having to worry about him, and tends to mimic ritsu's teasing nature to deflect when people do start worrying about him.

he's just . a little guy :3c he loves his brothers and hates worrying people but is just as sleepy and lazy as ritsu is . and those two are rarely far apart anyways so . they have a lot of inventive nap spots . only ritsu (and later tsukasa) know of some of aika's weirder ones. (how does someone so weak and tiny climb a tree to sleep in it? don't ask, he won't tell you. vampire's secrets :3c)

[groovebunker]

fran missed cc while she was away she just wishes she could tell her