#but i fucked up with fixing it so now its just. like that

[nebulations]

[ID: A collection of screenshotted tags.

indigoire: SY bought all the chapters and extras canonically so he was like a very persistent patron subscriber who had very vocal opinions - notably about how Binghe was wasted potential and how original SQQ should have been castrated #plus his handle was a dick joke and we know Mr Masturbation Joke probably got a giggle from that #if I were a struggling author and I had a "'fan"' like Peerless Cucumber I'd remember him too and I have the shittiest memory on earth #nothing could stop me from thinking fondly of 'hi I'm Amazing Dick. Your work is compelling garbage. Here's $20.' #svsss #cumplane #airplane shooting towards the sky

droogproxy: #incredible friendship #ever have so much fun online u have nightmares about a guy u haven't been in the same world as for -20 years? #svsss #scum villain's self saving system #AND THEN HE SHOWS UP AT WORK #and the entire world starts revolving around him. just like your dreams

fandom-drake: #im pretty sure its canon that SY was obsessed with the pidw #and regularly sent paragraph long comments to Airplane #but also ended up reading the whole thing the was probably paying for it too just to complain to Airplane

the-evil-pizza: #He's been dead for 80 years and somehow #Peerless cucumber is forever branded in his brain #God shen Yuan's levels of haterism must have been so next level #fix it fic gone wrong

princess-of-purple-prose: #why is no one commenting on sqh literally having nightmares abt peerless cucumber in the form of a giant cucumber dildo trying to kill him #all the way back in DISCIPLE DAYS #that man SCARRED HIS PSYCHE and THEN KILLED KIM!!!!! #svsss

bifrosted-flakes: #prevs he was in airplanes fucking WALLS

spindoctor3875: #tbf #laughing at cucumber bros #rage post #was very much #what kick started #his death and transmigration #I'd remember the fucker who accidentally killed me

teazart: #i love how sy was such a hater it transcended lives Imao

yeetsintotheabyss: #sy is such a little hater and sqh is a slut for guys that are mean #see: mbj #svsss

townofcan: #sy left insane 800 word essays on every single chapter (of which there were hundreds) in the span of like less than a month #of course he remembers him. imagine experiencing that

waitineedaname: #svsss #this is especially wild now that im rereading #and i've been reminded that shen yuan read pidw in TWENTY DAYS #what the FUCK was he posting if he had that significant of an impact on airplane after not even three weeks. End ID]

you know what the funniest part of cumplane relationship to me is? that airplane remembers sy’s Internet handle. because airplane, at the point he realizes sy is a transmigrator, has been dead in his own world for decades. he hasn’t seen a computer in decades and so it would have been very normal for him to have forgotten many Internet handles. Heck, this guy probably does not even remember his own damn password. Again, very normal considering everything.

So like, what level of insane dickriding did Shen Yuan do to CEMENT his Internet handle onto airplane’s brain is beyond me but it sure makes me giggle harder the more I think about it

[cheer-nympho]

Thinking about Eddie driving up to the quarry one night to try and sell to the teenagers that usually hang around here,

But when he gets there only one car is parked and hidden behind the bushes framing the road.

A very familiar BMW with it’s windows steamed up.

‘Of course Harringtons getting some again. Lucky fuck.’ Eddie thinks as he lights a smoke, if only to warm him up a bit in the cold night.

Damn. From the condensation dripping down the BMW windows, they’re having no problem keeping warm.

Even from the distance it takes effort to not startle when the hand slams against the back window, creating a messy handprint on the white glass. Even from here he can see it’s a mans hand. Steve, he assumes. Jesus, whoever he has in that back seat is clearly getting railed practically through the seats.

He should look away, really. Knows that this is a bit fucked up. But…he can’t actually see anything. And really, Harrington shouldn’t have brought her out to the towns most known hangout. And its not like he was straining to hear, they were just SO loud. And…deep?

Eddie’s not exactly a connoisseur in the different noises of women, try as he may, but he’s pretty sure he’s only hearing a man right now. Sure, its still a pretty high pitched and punched out sound but noticeably a dudes- which confuses Eddie for a minute.

Harrington must just be really sensitive and loud. Maybe that’s why he had so many girls falling over him, the noises certainly weren’t turning Eddie OFF the interaction.

He can physically see the change in the cars bouncing when he assumes they’re…’finishing off’

Eddie doesn’t know why he’s still here. He could have- no, he SHOULD have left ages ago. But not long after the bouncing stops, the car door swings over and 2 legs swing out, hands coming down to fix their socks- clearly having hastily thrown his clothes back on.

The only thing is…Eddie doesn’t remember Harringtons legs being so long? The body looks out or place sitting in the open door, not like the familiar and practically famous silhouette of Steve against his vehicle. And it hits Eddie square in the face when the guy stands upright.

Cause Eddie DOES know the guy. He’s just stomach tippinglys aware that it is NOT Harrington.

That’s Johnny. Eddies (admittedly one sided) rival at the hideout. A fucking punk. Not in the way the adults of Hawkins use the term, he’s literally a punk rocker.

And his punk rocker ass is currently stepping out of Steve Harringtons freshly christened back seat. Well that…can’t be right. Harrington must just…rent out his car to couple or something. That must be it. Rich people are weird like that.

His theory is very quickly destroyed when Johnny knocks lightly on the roof of the car, cigarette already in the other hand, and pokes his head into the back. He laughs before a pair of legs flop out of the door. Legs attached to someone clearly too tall for a backseat. Legs attached to someone very male.

He should go. He needs to go. If not because of how his stomach feels like it’s trying to eat itself, then because his best-buddy Johnny just tipped his head non-subtly towards Eddie’s van.

‘Shit shit shit shit-‘ He puts the keys in as fast as he can with shaking hands.

— And he so nearly got away too. So nearly never had to look at that BMW or its occupants again, live his life carefree.

All hope of that was cruelly dashed when he left hellfire to see Steve leaning against his van.

He scanned the area, in hopes someone else had stayed late because he was pretty sure Steve was about to give him the “talk and you’re dead” followed by a beating up. And that would suck.

Nowhere else to go but forward, he clutched his DND bag and hobbled over to Harrington- who hadn’t offered him anything other than a blank stare.

“Harrington.”

“Munson.”

“Pretty late to be lurking around school. People might get the wrong idea.”

“Don’t lecture me on lurking, man. We both know you were at the quarry.”

“I don’t really-“

“Johnny told me, would recognise your beat up ride miles away he said.”

Thankfully Eddie had enough brain power in him to add that to the list of reasons to fucking hate Johnny. In the time he had to scowl at the ground, Harrington had rounded behind him. Eddie span to meet him but was met with a rough hand to the chest.

He was pushed up against his van with a sharp movement, pulling a winded breath from him followed by a large ‘bang’ as Steve’s hand slammed to the side of his head.

“So, Munson. What did you see?”

“I didn’t see-“

“Try again.” A hand crept into his hair, not pulling but clearly threatening it with the way it was clasped.

“I saw…you and Johnny. In your car.”

Steve hummed and looked away from Eddie. “That’s not very specific, Eddie, try again.”

“Wha- I don’t know what you-“ The hand in his hair yanked, pulling his head so that even with their similar heights he was forced to look up at Steve, hands gripping uselessly to the side of his van.

“Try again.”

Oh.

Oh.

That’s what he wanted.

“I saw Johnny fucking you.”

He managed to lift his gaze to look at Steve and was met with an almost dopey smirk, his eyes barely focused as they stared down at Eddie half closed. Eddie melted right into the wall of his van because Steve Harrington was looking him like he’d never been hornier in his life.

“Fuck. He was Eddie, he really was and it was so good. You saw it right? Saw the car moving? Shit, man, it’s hard to get it moving like that. He was so rough.” Eddie just stared as Steve started falling further towards him, sinking into the weird little hold they both had.

“But there’s just one problem Munson.” Steve said into the side of Eddie’s neck, making him shiver and use all his willpower to keep his head where Steve’s grip had moved it.

“What- What problem?”

“My car is just too small. We needed more space, I needed more space.”

He brought his free hand up and slammed it to the other side of Eddie’s head. “Do you think you might know anyone with something more…spacious?” And when Eddie clocked exactly what he was implying, what he was begging for- he had never been so thankful for his shitty van.

[bttrflybb]

𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄 ≡ neji hyūga (18+)

contains: fem reader˒ neji x reader˒ crvix stim˒ breeding˒ praise˒ prgnancy ment.

summary: you find out what makes the genius of the hyūga clan tick. your sex life is good, but he’s always been a bit uninvolved in the decisions around it.

w/c: 1.5k.

a/n: this was supposed to be multi headcanon post including others about you finding out their biggest kinks, but i’d figure i’d just get it out now since it’ll take a bit for the rest. ero-sensei and the sixth are already gonna be included but if you have anyone else you’d like to see, let me know ! barely proofread, if you’re stumbling along this post in its infancy before i get back home and make some more edits… im sorry . ;;

neji, at his core, is a gentle man. he’s slow, intent on doing his best for you, making you feel the best for him. during the act he’s the one taking the lead, but outside of it you’re the one telling him just how to do so. truth is, he had always been a bit unsure of his sexual preferences. it’s no surprise that such a straight-edged n’ pent up shinobi like him has less developed kinks and fetishes than his pervy lover. 

that is, until the both of you let something slip.

it was in the middle of a hazy entanglement, you were flush against the futon and neji was hungry. by the way he spread your legs open, rounding one palm to the underside of your right thigh and lifting it up and out and hooking the other underneath your left knee to stretch it outwards against the floor, this man was starved. he swallowed your moans the second they came, sloppily tonguing you down and devouring the mix of saliva you two created. so fucking desperate. the fat tip of neji’s cock draagged along your wet slit forcing a whine out of you from just the sound. your head clouded with confusion and lust- it felt so fucking good but it contrasted starkly aside the usual sensual pace and tone neji tends to set. he rut against the outside of you, rocking back n’ forth while your lips enveloped him and covered his cock in your juices. he looked so good above you, his hair a mess and his brows furrowed in horny concentration. your thoughts still run with curiosity, did he drink at all? no, he doesn’t taste like anything. neji isn’t the kind of person to be open about his sex so he definitely didn’t ask anybody-

“talk to me, lovely.” he rumbled, the undertones of desperation seeping through such a caring, gentle voice. he even sounded different. neji tapped his forehead against yours, resting against it for a moment while he waited for you to come back to him. “m’ okay, neji.” you nodded, locking your gaze with his. “jus’ so… feisty.” you flush. neji separates his forehead from yours and you swear you catch a sly smile beneath the umber veil that falls across his face as he shifts and dips his head down to the crook of your neck. instinctively you tip your head up to make room for the licks and nips that make their way up to your ear.

“yeah? you like it?” his breathy words laced with lust choked you like poison. a pitiful moan crawled its way out of your throat and all you could do was nod and breathe out an ‘uh-huh’ while he ravaged the side of your neck. lavender eyes fix onto every movement of your face, peering at you from below through dark strands of hair like an animal behind bars. oh so fucking slowly neji fucks his tip in n' out of your entrance, fixated on the way your eyebrows knit together and mouth twitches as he sinks his cock deeper with every other thrust. each word of praise goes straight to your cunt while it eagerly swallows more n’ more of his length. you sound like a slut in more ways than one and it’s fueling neji like he’s a goddamn incubus.

your knees are up by your head and neji's pace is grueling. throughout all of this neji's words of praise never stop flowing- like sweet thick honey. you're drowning. each time he buries his pretty slender cock all the way in he draws it out slow, then fast, then all the way back in again- and again- "neh..jiii- nnghh- hahh-" you mewl, your words and noises staggering each time his tip meets with your cervix. between the abuse of your cunt and that sweet, demeaning voice, it’s all too much. he speaks down to you like you're stupid- and you are. he knows you are. "yeaah, sweetheart? what is it, angel?" he knows what it is, he knows what he's doing. "mm' close n'ji... m' reaaal close-" you whine, grasping at his wrists planted on either side of your head. he's so sweet, delicately taking hold of both of your hands and interlocking his fingers between yours. "y-yeah angel?" he stammers, he's close too and you squeeze his palms in acknowledgment. "hahh, you want it sweet thing? what you said earlier- about a baby- gghhah-" his moans descend into an airy, rough laugh and you swear you can feel his dick throb when he says it. “you want my seed, pretty girl?”

fuck. it all clicks now. when he had come home and you awoke to the sound of shoji doors sliding open and closed. dinner was ready and warm, the garden was tended to, the house was clean and you had showered and slipped into a nap on the couch in just your night robe . neji kissed the sleep from your eyes and you joked about how peaceful it was; the only thing that could disrupt it would be one or two little ones running around. that's what it fucking was.

"neji-" you choke out and wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him into you. that brazen expression falters more and more and he's boring holes through his own eyelids- it feels like he's in a fucking sauna. his sly little smile slips away each thrust and he gets sloppier and sloppier each time he dives inside. "m' close angel- hahhh do you want me t-ngh," you can feel him throb inside you, he's actively holding himself back. "please neji, hah- fuck- get me fucking pregnant neji-" and with three pumps and the help your vulgar rambling he's driving his own cum deep inside. out halfway and back in, hard. the prettiest fucking mix of groans and whines spill out his mouth with each rope he shoots inside you. he feels so hot, his head feels so heavy he just lets it drop- n’ if he wasn't holding himself up with locked elbows and you werent keeping squeezing his hands so tight your knuckles were turning white, he might've just toppled over. you look so fucking good underneath him this way, twitching n’ arching while taking everything he gives you- and he’s sure to let you know that. “look so good, pretty girl, taking it all- fuck,” you cry, his words, his pelvis to clit thrusts, his voice, his warmth flooding you sends you clumsily toppling over the edge. the sound he makes when he starts to feel you throb around him is flithy, and the words of praise that follow after are just as gross. “yeah take it all pretty thing, take what you want. milk my cock f’r me…”

the highs of both your orgasms slowly wear off together and the exhaustion hits. your heart pangs with pity when neji’s elbows shakily hit the futon with a poof and you look up at him trembling n’ panting above you. you’ve never seen him so unkempt. honestly, a small wave of pride washes over you and you can’t help but breathe out a small giggle while you quiver and take spaced, shaky breaths. your foreheads meet once again and he offers you a weak smile. “what are you laughing at?” his voice is hoarse and laced in faux venom. his eyebrows knit together for a moment and his eye contact falters- a simultaneous whine comes from the two of you as he drags his half hard cock out and the results of tonight make themselves known. neji sits back on his knees and just watches it spill out onto the robe beneath you, barring it from leaking out onto the futon. there was so much. you can almost see stars form in the blank space of his eyes while he watches you and you just want to hide. none of that here though. before you can even start neji’s got his hands back on you palming at the inside of your open flat right thigh and gripping the top of your left knee, preventing you from closing your legs and rolling to the side. “nejiii… you’re staring too hard.” you whine. “m’barrassing.” you’re hiding behind your hands at this point. neji shakes his head and cuffs your wrists with one hand and brings them to lay on your tummy. his right snakes around your left knee and he scooches in so he can kiss the top of it and rest his head on it, letting his hand travel down and rub your thigh.

“did you mean it?” he asks, a bit hushed.

“mean what?” obviously you have a grasp on what he’s inquiring about.

“what you said- about… um… getting you pregnant.” neji murmured, censoring the word tailing the end of the sentence between his lips and your knee, kissing it again.

“if i didn’t i wouldn’t have said anything- the first or second time.” you pull yourself up with his hand (well, more like he pulls you up single-handedly after a couple taps and tugs to show him you wanted up) and are eye level with him again. soft kisses meet his left cheek and cool and clammy skin flushes at the affection.

“is that fine?” “mhm.” “you liked it?” “a lot.”

[theyrekirby]

Okay because everyone who reads this seems to be stupid lets do some clarification, on AI and data centers. Is AI using more power and water than anything else in the world and singlehandedly ruining the world and the environment? No. Is it using more power than some small countries and within the next 20 years going to account for double digit percentage of the energy and water by the entire world? Yes! AI uses way more power than normal Internet usage infact this article tells us this a single chatGPT question takes 30mL of water the fact that a lot of other things listed are measured in how much is used in 30 minutes/or an hour should be rather telling. Many applications of chatGPT that are not just using it's online prompt but using its various API make more than 1 request a minute (meaning in an hour 1800mL) this comparison now does not seem as favourable especially with everything using AI. If a Google search previously used 0.3 watt-hours it now uses 3 watt-hours, this is a lot when we start adding it up. It is true without doubt that AI uses more energy and more power than similar things in the internet without AI, this is a good reason to be critical of adding it to things we are adding energy cost to things that already cost nonzero energy.

https://www.npr.org/2024/07/10/nx-s1-5028558/artificial-intelligences-thirst-for-electricity

Google itself reports that it's emissions have increased by 50% largely due to its increased usage of AI, spending more energy for not much actual benefit is bad, particularly if we think about how we just passed the 1.5 degree milestone for heating which is really fucking bad! We should be decreasing our energy by any amount, not increasing it for no fucking benefit!

AI currently accounts for 1-2% of the worlds energy and water usage and Goldman sacks predicts this increasing by 2030 to 3-4% this is bad! https://www.goldmansachs.com/insights/articles/AI-poised-to-drive-160-increase-in-power-demand

If you don't wanna believe me because I'm a Tumblr user who doesn't even study this what do I know, surely the substance person knows more. Well don't worry some people way smarter than me at Yale want to tell you this too.

Is animal agriculture, (and agriculture in general) using a lot of water yeah no one is disagreeing with this, but to use it as an argument that AI is fine is just the classic comic strip by Matt Bors of you critique society yet you live in it curious. It is irrelevant to the current discussion. This is a different post, discussing the issues of Animal agriculture, caring and talking about AI issues isn't taking away space or taking away the conversation about animal agriculture. Climate change is caused by a wide spectrum of issues and discussion of one of the issues doesn't make the others less important. Will use of AI singlehandedly bring forth the destruction of the world and set earth on fire? No, ofc it won't. It sure as hell not help the fact we are already doing that by increasing our already strained power though. But I would like to add the moves by Microsoft and Google to use Nuclear power are actually really good! It will lessen emissions that would be caused by their increasing AI usage tremendously, should they just not use stupid power... Yeah ofc, but that is not going to happen, this is America money is greater than any number of lives, than any number of floods and fires, than any increase in temperature. Nuclear power is good, our energy usage isn't going to suddenly come down nor are we going to invent a magic device to fix everything.

I think almost all of the environmental case against AI is factually incorrect fear mongering, or "misinformation"

[ikkyfics]

Paint Me Yours

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: You would be the death of Dave, and honestly, he’d die happy. It was a little embarrassing how often he caught himself thinking about you—the way you smiled, brighter than the fucking Sun itself, or how you always smelled like a field of flowers. He knew he was doomed the moment he laid eyes on you.

Warnings: fluffy, language, veteran!reader/freshman!Dave(two years difference), suggestive, college au, first kiss, no use of y/n

A/N: I know that each uni has its own hazing, but here is what happened at mine - a paint bath to celebrate approval

My dear love @gingerteafairy, thank you very much for giving me this idea, I hope you like it <333

Masterlist

You would be the death of Dave, and honestly, he’d die happy. It was a little embarrassing how often he caught himself thinking about you—the way you smiled, brighter than the fucking Sun itself, or how you always smelled like a field of flowers. He knew he was doomed the moment he laid eyes on you.

It was the first day of university, and he was a little lost—okay, very lost, actually. The campus was huge, and there were so many people that the place looked like an anthill. That’s when you appeared, dazzling, and asked if he was one of the freshmen. Dave needed a second or two before he stammered out a yes, watching your smile widen before you started guiding him.

During the welcome party organized by the upperclassmen, Dave could barely take his eyes off you—off your pretty mouth. The way you smiled while answering other freshmen’s questions. At some point, your gaze landed on him—maybe you’d felt his eyes boring into you—and your lips curved into a smile. Dave looked around, unsure if that smile was actually meant for him, but then you laughed, saying goodbye to the people around you before walking toward him.

“Hi,” you greeted, that smile still wrapped around your lips. “Dave, right?”

He nodded, feeling his heart stumble, not trusting his own voice to respond. He barely noticed he’d been holding his breath when you bit your lip, and God, what wouldn’t he give to be the one to do that? They looked so soft and plump—he suspected they were sweet, too.

“Are you enjoying the party?”

Dave blinked, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of your words. “Uh… yeah, sure. Everything looks great.” He wanted to slap himself. Damn it, fighting criminals was fine, but talking to a pretty girl? Impossible.

You didn’t seem to mind his lack of tact, though. In fact, you looked amused. “I’m glad,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

Was it too soon to reveal that he wouldn’t shut up when it came to something he liked? Probably, but he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. “Depends. I can be exhausting sometimes.”

A laugh bubbled from your lips, and he knew he could start rambling if it meant hearing that laugh again. “That’s a little hard to believe.”

Dave stared at you, lips parted in surprise. No, that definitely wasn’t flirting. Absolutely not. Or was it?

Before he could respond, you quickly changed the subject. “You should grab one of the donuts before they’re gone, you know? You’ve barely moved from that corner since you got here.”

“You, uh… noticed me?”

You paused for a moment, as if only now realizing what you’d said. But the surprise on your face was quickly replaced with a relaxed expression.

“I kind of have to. It’s part of my job as an upperclassman, you know—guiding freshmen and all that. So, have you tried one yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, we need to fix that right now. Come on,” you said, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the table where the donuts were. You handed him one with pink frosting and colorful sprinkles, your eyes shining with anticipation. “Try it.”

He raised his hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he took the donut. Maybe he blushed under the intensity of your gaze—just maybe. When he took a bite, he closed his eyes, letting out a hum of approval. The dough was soft, and the frosting was perfect.

Your smile widened, if that was even possible. “So?”

Dave opened his eyes, finding you leaning closer to him. He drank in your image—the way the light illuminated your eyes, the soft curve of your mouth, how painfully beautiful you were. He wondered if you could hear his heart pounding furiously in his chest.

“I think it’s pretty girl—” His eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. “Good! Pretty good. I think it’s pretty good.”

He didn’t dare look up. What the hell was wrong with him? Christ, why couldn’t he act like a normal person?

Hearing the soft sound of your laughter, he exhaled deeply, lifting his gaze hesitantly, only to find a playful smile dancing on your pretty mouth. The weight on his shoulders lifted slightly at your reaction. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t ruined everything just yet.

“Dave,” you said, shaking your head slightly as you tried to stifle your laughter, “you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Almost reflexively, a sheepish smile curved his lips. “Sometimes.”

From that first encounter, Dave Lizewski knew he was screwed.

The weeks that followed were a blur. He kept himself busy trying to adapt to his new reality, but every time he crossed paths with you on campus, it was like being struck by lightning.

You always smiled at him, asking one question or another, which Dave took forever to answer because he was too distracted admiring you. He became especially distracted when you wore those spaghetti-strap tops that highlighted your bust. Marty once jokingly told him to wipe the drool off his face while he watched you from across the hallway.

Today had been surprisingly light. There were still a few hours until sunset, and classes had ended a few minutes ago. Dave was walking among the other students in his class, heading out of the building, when he noticed the murmurs around him. He pulled out one of his earbuds, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he tried to catch snippets of the conversation.

"Did you hear? There's a stash of paint in the lockers," someone said, and it didn’t take long for the other person to reply with a smirk, “I think today’s the day. I mean, it’s been almost a month since classes started.”

But it wasn’t until Dave reached the entrance of the building that he realized what was about to happen. The upperclassmen were gathered, and there was a dizzying amount of tempera paint in sight.

However, that wasn’t what caught his attention. You were there, radiant as always, but today you looked like you were ready to give him a heart attack. The only things covering your body were shorts and a thin top. He swallowed hard as his eyes lingered on your legs, on how soft they looked. It wasn’t hard to imagine how it would feel to settle between them. The image popped into his mind as clear as the waters of a pristine lake. You riding him, your face clouded with pleasure, the sounds you would make. The intensity of the thought made him blush, and he quickly buried his indecent ideas before they caused trouble in his pants.

You, oblivious to his thoughts, continued organizing some of the paint. The memory of your own hazing was still fresh in your mind. It had been epic—there was no other word for it. You didn’t have to think twice before agreeing to do the same for the freshmen.

Hearing the commotion, your eyes lifted just in time to catch sight of Dave. A small smile curved your lips without your permission. That was the effect he had on you, one you were definitely fighting against. He was a freshman, probably two years younger than you, and you had never been with a younger guy before.

The very thought brought a feeling of unease.

But it would be a lie to say he hadn’t been occupying your thoughts more frequently. It was hard—impossible—not to be drawn to those eyes, as bright as sapphires, and those dark curls that constantly fell over his forehead. They were adorable. How many times had your fingers itched with the urge to push them back from his handsome face?

And it wasn’t as though you didn’t know you had some effect on him. It wasn’t arrogance—Dave just wasn’t very discreet. He always blushed and seemed to struggle to find the right words. It was genuinely cute.

Without thinking, you headed toward him.

Dave didn’t notice you approaching right away. He was too busy trying to act casual, which only made him look even more awkward, staring at the ground, his earbuds now hanging around his neck. But when he finally sensed your presence, his whole body tensed, as if the air around him had turned into static electricity.

“Hi, Dave.” Your voice was soft but carried something he couldn’t quite place—a warmth that made his stomach flip with nerves—and something else he didn’t want to name.

He looked up, and seeing you so close rendered him momentarily speechless. The late afternoon sun lit up your face, highlighting every detail—the curve of your lashes, the soft shape of your lips, the delicate line of your jaw. It was impossible not to be captivated.

“Hi,” he finally managed to mumble, his voice rougher than he would’ve liked.

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes locked on his with a playful glint. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He tried to smile but ended up with something awkward instead. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I mean, you just showed up out of nowhere.”

“Did I?” You laughed, and the sound seemed to echo inside him. “Or maybe you were just distracted.” Your voice lowered slightly on the last word, almost as if you were teasing him. And it worked. Dave felt his face heat up instantly.

Without hurry, you took a step closer, invading his personal space. “Are you staying for the hazing?”

He blinked, surprised, his eyebrows rising. “Hazing? Uh… I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile turning into something that looked like a challenge. “Oh, come on, are you really going to tell me you’re not joining? It’s nothing scary, I promise.” Your voice was persuasive, carrying something that made him want to say “yes” to anything you asked.

He hesitated for a moment, but something in the way you looked at him—like you were challenging him, but with a sweetness that made him want to impress you—made him nod. “Alright. What do I have to do?”

“First,” you started, pointing to the small group of freshmen gathered a little ahead, “leave your backpack over there with the others. You won’t need it right now.”

Dave followed your gaze and saw the other freshmen dropping their bags near a makeshift bench, some already with their arms and faces painted in bright colors. They were laughing, exchanging jokes, their energy light and full of the excitement of new beginnings. Dave sighed, adjusting the strap on his shoulder before finally moving to do the same. He placed his backpack down carefully, as if the act itself carried more significance than it seemed—a small gesture of belonging.

When he came back to you, he seemed more relaxed, but you couldn’t ignore his posture. It was hard not to notice—the way his shoulders stayed square, his arms defined even without him trying to show them off. He was fit, very fit, and you found the words a little harder to get out as you tried not to make it too obvious. Still, the idea of touching him, even under the innocent pretense of the prank, made your heart beat a little faster.

“You’re going to need to take off your jacket,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart pounded in your chest.

Dave hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded, unzipping it slowly, the sound of the metal seeming louder than necessary in the silence between you. He shrugged the jacket off his shoulders with a natural ease that felt almost rehearsed, folding it carefully before setting it on a nearby bench. The white shirt underneath seemed simple at first glance, but now, with him more exposed, you noticed how perfectly it fit him—highlighting his chest and arms in a way that made it impossible to look away.

“Do I need to roll up the sleeves too?” he asked, already pulling one sleeve up to his elbow before you could respond.

You only managed to nod, pretending to be deeply focused on grabbing the paint. But it was impossible not to notice his movements—the firm way his fingers gripped the fabric, the casual way he folded each side, leaving his forearms exposed. And oh, those forearms. The muscles flexed slightly with each fold. Heat rose to your face, and you quickly lowered your eyes, forcing yourself to focus, clearing your throat.

“Green,” you blurted out suddenly, as if the words slipped out without thinking. He stopped, looking at you with a curious expression.

“What?”

“Green suits you,” you explained, gesturing toward the row of paints. Your voice came out firmer than you expected, but the truth was that having him so close was starting to mess with your ability to form complete sentences.

Dave raised an eyebrow, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “Does it? Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, trying to sound casual. “It just does. I’d guess you belong in Slytherin.”

He frowned, feigning indignation. “Slytherin? Are you serious?”

You laughed, enjoying the playful tone in his voice. “Yes.”

“I’m definitely a Gryffindor, for your information,” he replied, crossing his arms, though the amused curve of his lips remained. “Lions are better than snakes.”

“Oh, I see.” You laughed again, grabbing the pot of green paint and carefully opening it. “But today, you’re going to be a Slytherin, sweetheart.”

He smiled, but you could see the faint flush creeping up his ears, something that made him look even more endearing. Would he mind if his cheeks were bitten? You blinked, forcing that thought away.

“Now stay still,” you said, dipping your fingers into the cool paint. “I’ll start with your arms.”

Dave obeyed, keeping still, but you could feel his full attention on you. Your fingers touched his skin, sliding carefully as you began drawing soft lines and delicate strokes along his forearm. The warm texture of his skin contrasted with the fresh paint, and you lost yourself for a moment in the simple act of tracing each curve.

He was quiet, but you could feel his breathing change—slightly heavier, as if he was aware of every touch. When you glanced up to check if he was okay, you realized he was looking too. Not at his arm, but at you.

His gaze was intense, his blue eyes fixed on your face for a few seconds before dropping, almost accidentally, to the neckline of your shirt. The movement was so quick that he blinked, shifting his focus back to his arm, but the blush rising to his cheeks was impossible to miss.

“I... uh, you’re pretty detail-oriented, huh?” he tried, his voice slightly lower than before.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your face too. “I like to do things properly. Now your forehead.”

He blinked, surprised. “My forehead?”

“It’s a prank, Dave,” you replied, laughing. “The arms are just the beginning. Come here.”

He tilted his head hesitantly, letting you get closer. Your fingers were covered in paint, and as you began to glide the tip along the contours of his forehead, you realized just how close you were—so close you could catch the subtle scent of his cologne, something warm and woodsy.

The silence between you grew heavy, charged with something that felt electric. Each breath seemed synchronized, every move you made met with his gaze. When you finished the drawing, your fingers lingered, still lightly brushing against his skin. It was Dave who broke the silence, laughing softly.

“Now that you're officially painted, I think you're ready to be a proper freshman,” you joked, trying to ease the tension hanging between you.

You stepped back, tilting your head to evaluate your work. He already had some green marks scattered across his arms and forehead, but somehow, he still looked surprisingly... neat. That wouldn’t last long, of course.

“Time for a picture,” you said, raising your phone. “We need to capture this ‘tidy’ phase,” you explained, stifling a laugh. “Because soon, my friend, you’ll be unrecognizable.”

He chuckled, a bit shyly, and nodded. “Alright.”

You winked, adjusting the angle of your phone. He stood there with a small, reserved smile, proudly displaying the name of his course and the university's initials, but with an ease so natural that you didn’t need to ask for anything else. “Look here,” you directed, snapping the photo. “This one’s good. Now, give me a serious face or something.”

He attempted a more serious pose, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow, but the effect was ruined when he started laughing—soft and full of life.

“You’re terrible at this, you know that?” you teased, laughing along. “Alright, last one. Just smile this time.”

He complied, and this time his smile was brighter, more carefree—something so genuine you already knew it would be your favorite. “Done. Immortalized.”

“Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” he said, still smiling.

Before you could respond, one of the upperclassmen clapped loudly to grab everyone’s attention. “Alright, freshmen! Everyone, listen up!”

Dave turned toward the voice, and you used the moment to pocket your phone, staying close as the upperclassman explained what would happen next.

“Now that you’ve all been properly christened, it’s time for the fun part of initiation. Everyone is going to form a line, holding hands, and we’re going to walk from here to the main engineering building over there,” he pointed to a building about a 15-minute walk away, “leaving a trail of paint behind us. Along the way, we’re going to throw paint at you. A lot of paint. And just so you know: if any of you freshmen try to fight back, you’ll get an extra soaking. Got it?”

The freshmen murmured their agreement, some chuckling nervously. Beside you, Dave seemed amused, his easy smile firmly in place. That was when you realized your role was about to begin: as an upperclassman, your job wasn’t just to watch—it was to dive into the colorful chaos and make sure no one got out unscathed.

You turned to him, a playful glint in your eye. “You know, Dave, I think you should take your glasses off.”

He blinked, surprised. “Take my glasses off? Why?”

“Trust me,” you said, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “The paint will get everywhere, and you don’t want to ruin the lenses.”

He hesitated, clearly unconvinced. Then, with a sigh, he slowly removed his glasses and handed them to you. “Fine. But if I trip over someone, it’s your fault.”

You laughed, holding the glasses carefully. “I’ll guide you, don’t worry. Can you still see anything?” Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost with genuine concern.

Dave tilted his head, that small smile appearing again. “I think I can... enough to know you’re still there.”

Your laugh was a bit nervous, but you covered it by glancing away. “Well, that’s enough.”

He laughed too, that light sound contagious. And before you could respond, the upperclassmen started moving, organizing the freshmen into a line. “Take good care of those,” he said, pointing to his glasses. “I’m trusting you.”

“You can trust me,” you replied, waving the glasses before stepping away.

Dave joined the line of freshmen, falling into place among them. You watched as he took the hands of two other students, looking both relaxed and a little eager. The upperclassmen began circling the group, armed with bottles and squirt guns filled with colorful paint.

“Alright, everyone!” one of the upperclassmen yelled, a mischievous grin on his face. “No mercy!”

You grabbed your improvised weapon—a bottle filled with vibrant blue paint—and walked alongside the freshmen, your eyes inevitably searching for him in the crowd. It wasn’t hard to find him; it was as if your eyes were drawn to him naturally. His smile was still there, as if he was genuinely enjoying the impending chaos.

Music started playing—something upbeat and lively from a portable speaker someone had brought. It was the perfect soundtrack for the moment, and you couldn’t help but laugh as the energetic rhythm set the tone.

As the group began to move, the upperclassmen launched their attack. Paint flew in every direction, splattering onto laughing freshmen who tried—and failed—to dodge the colorful assault. You aimed for Dave, squeezing your bottle and hitting him square on the shoulder. He stopped, pretending to look offended as he laughed.

“You did that on purpose!” he accused, pointing at you, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Of course I did!” you shot back, unable to stop laughing. “What, you thought I’d spare you?”

He shook his head, still grinning, and kept walking. But you weren’t done yet. At every opportunity, you squirted more paint at him, streaking blue and green across his arms and back. Other upperclassmen joined in, but you got the sense that he was far more aware of your attacks than anyone else’s.

The soundtrack kept playing as the group moved forward slowly, everyone fully immersed in the fun. Dave, now almost unrecognizable with the amount of paint covering his hair and clothes, still seemed to be having more fun than anyone else. But amidst the chaos of colors and laughter, something glimmered in his eyes—a kind of challenge. Before you could prepare yourself, he took two quick steps toward you, his paint-covered hand reaching straight for your arm.

"Dave!" you exclaimed, trying to step back, but it was already too late.

His fingers left a streak of green paint across the light fabric of your shirt, staining it mercilessly. You froze, staring at the mark with a skeptical expression, then at him, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide his mischievous grin.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," you said, disbelief dripping from your voice. "I loved this shirt."

"Oops," he replied, with the most insincere tone of regret you’d ever heard, raising his hands in a gesture that didn’t convince anyone. "But hey, I think green suits you, too."

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms as you glared at him. "Are you serious, Dave?"

Before he could answer, a nearby upperclassman noticed what had happened and raised their voice, laughing. "Hey, everyone! Looks like we’ve got a bold one here!"

That was enough to grab the attention of all the other upperclassmen around. In seconds, it seemed like everyone had stopped what they were doing to look at Dave, who now seemed a little less confident—but surprisingly, no less amused.

"Retaliation, huh?" someone shouted, already starting to fill a bucket with a deadly mix of paints. "This won’t go unpunished!"

You took a step back, watching the scene unfold. Dave opened his mouth to protest but didn’t have time. The first splash of paint came from the left, hitting him square on the shoulder. Then, it was as if the heavens had opened, but instead of rain, there were buckets, bottles, and tubes of paint being thrown at him from every direction. Red, blue, yellow, pink, green, purple—a whirlwind of colors determined to turn him into a walking masterpiece.

You stood there with your arms crossed, watching as the upperclassmen laughed and shouted, the background music amplifying the chaos. Dave, however, seemed… completely unfazed. He raised his hands in surrender, but the grin was still there—a wide, bright smile as if he was having way too much fun.

When an entire bucket of blue paint was dumped straight over his head, he shook his hair, sending splatters everywhere—including onto you. "Seriously, Dave?!" you complained, but the laughter in your voice betrayed the fact that you weren’t really upset.

He wiped the excess paint dripping down his forehead and looked at you through the chaos. His smile was different now, a little softer but just as captivating as before. "Worth it," he said simply, as if the storm of paint had been a small price to pay.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that slipped through. "You’re impossible."

He shrugged, finally extending his hands to the sides, as if accepting defeat with dignity. "Maybe. But at least I’m not the only one covered in paint now."

The group, a walking rainbow, finally reached the other building, still laughing and making comments about their utterly destroyed—but hilarious—appearances. Clothes that had once been normal were now completely unrecognizable, and many people’s hair dripped paint like oversized brushes. You couldn’t help but laugh as you noticed how Dave seemed to lead the pack of the most wrecked ones, completely covered from head to toe.

"I look like an exploded paint can," someone commented, eliciting even more laughter from the group.

The upperclassmen began organizing everyone for a group photo. "Come on, everyone! I want to see everyone squeezed in here!" one of them shouted, waving a red paint tube like a microphone.

Dave laughed beside you, leaning in to whisper, "I think there’s still time to escape."

"You’re the last person who can say that," you shot back, glancing sideways at him. He was drenched in paint, but his eyes sparkled brighter than ever, and something about the way he smiled made your stomach flip in that uncomfortable—but addicting—way.

The freshmen started lining up, bumping into each other and trying to find space in the tight group. You ended up being pushed to the front, practically pressed against Dave as he positioned himself behind you. "Looks like this is going to be pretty snug," he remarked.

"That’s the spirit of teamwork," you replied, trying to maintain your composure, though you were very aware of how close he was.

"Teamwork, huh?" he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice without even looking.

Just as the photographer positioned themselves, you felt movement right behind you, and before you could process it, Dave’s arm slid around your waist. It was a gentle touch, almost casual, but the way he did it—firm yet hesitant, as if waiting for your reaction—made your heart race.

You looked at him, surprised. “Dave…” you began, but your voice got lost amidst the chaos around you. He looked back at you, the smile still on his face, but now there was something different—an intensity in his eyes, a glimmer that seemed to say more than any words could.

“Just to make room for everyone,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. You weren’t sure if it was because of the noise or the way he seemed to look directly at you, ignoring the rest of the world entirely.

You tried to think of anything relevant to say, but your mind was a complete blur, the words tangling together as he stayed so close. The touch of his arm around your waist was a constant reminder, a warm pressure that sent shivers through your skin, even under the layer of paint covering you both.

Someone shouted, “Smile!” and you forced a grin for the camera, even though your thoughts were far from where they should be. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dave lean slightly forward, and his closeness was overwhelming. He smelled faintly of paint mixed with something uniquely him, and it was ridiculous that you were noticing that at such a moment.

When the photo was finally taken, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Dave, still with his arm around your waist, looked at you with a satisfied smile. “I think this will be a photo to remember,” he said, his voice low, and the way he looked at you almost made your knees buckle.

“I hope you’re right,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the weakness in your voice gave everything away.

As the photo group began to break apart, the laughter faded. A few freshmen tried unsuccessfully to scrub the paint out of their hair and clothes, while others seemed resigned to heading home in their messy state. You watched the scene unfold, the sound of footsteps and chatter echoing through the space. The energetic buzz of the event still lingered, but exhaustion was beginning to creep in.

Dave stood near you, a mix of tiredness and contentment on his face. He ran a hand through his hair, now stiff from the paint, and let out a soft laugh. “I think it’s going to take me two weeks in the shower to get all of this off.”

You laughed, reaching for your bag and unzipping it. “I think you’ll need more than that. But luckily, I came prepared.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued, as you pulled out a small packet of wet wipes. “It’s not going to fix this entire disaster,” you said, holding it up for him, “but it’ll help with the basics. Here.”

He looked at you, his smile widening. “Are you always this prepared, or is this just for me?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re full of jokes today, huh?”

He chuckled but didn’t take the wipes from your hand. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if challenging you. “So, are you going to help me, or are you just going to stand there holding that?”

You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing at the way he was looking at you—direct, playful, but with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Fine, but stay still and cooperate.”

He took a small step closer, closing the already narrow gap between you. Dave lowered his head slightly, making it easier for you to reach his face. Your hands were steady as you pulled out a wipe, but the same couldn’t be said for your heartbeat, which pounded wildly as you leaned in.

The first touch was light, almost hesitant, but soon you were carefully wiping away the streaks of paint from his forehead. His skin was warm under the wipe, and you could feel every tiny movement as he stayed still, his eyes fixed on you.

“Does this hurt?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

“No,” he replied, his tone rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “If anything, it’s the opposite.”

You tried to ignore the weight of his words, but it was impossible. Each second seemed to stretch the space between you. Your fingers, holding the wipe, brushed lightly against the side of his face, and he took a deep breath, as if steadying himself.

His eyes never left yours, and there was something about the vibrant blue that made you feel lost, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. “You’re all cleaned up now,” you murmured, but you didn’t step away.

“Am I?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips, as if he knew more than he was letting on. “Because I think there’s a spot here…” He pointed to his cheek, though it felt more like an excuse to keep you close.

You laughed softly but obliged, wiping the spot he indicated. “There. Happy?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and when you finally found the courage to look at him again, the smile had disappeared, replaced by something deeper. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was filled with everything that wasn’t being said.

His hand rose for a moment, almost as if it were going to touch yours, but then stopped halfway, falling back to his side. “I am. Quite a bit.”

You felt the weight of his words, the raw honesty hanging in the air like a thick, tangible cloud. That I am seemed to hold more than he was willing to say out loud. His breath was heavy, not from the physical effort of the day, but from the tension that seemed to pulse between you like a rope about to snap.

Without thinking much, as if your fingers had a life of their own, you brought a hand to his face again. His hair was messy and still wet with paint, some strands stuck to his forehead, others falling to the side, blocking your view of his eyes. “Stay still,” you murmured, almost apologetically, as you brushed the wet strands back carefully.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the simple touch of your fingers was enough to disarm him. When he opened his eyes again, there was something different in them, something more intense, more vulnerable.

You took a deep breath, and before you could hesitate, you began to clean the paint still staining his jawline, your fingers gliding along the strong line of his jaw. The texture of his skin under the wet wipe, warm and slightly rough, made your stomach twist in ways you couldn’t control.

“Do you have any idea how much you got dirty today?” you tried to say, but your voice came out weaker than you intended.

“Maybe,” he replied, and the hoarseness in his voice made you feel the impact in your chest, like a muffled thunder. “But you seemed to be having fun.”

You chuckled softly, trying to relieve the growing tension, but it was a useless effort. Your fingers slid from his jaw to near his lips, and you hesitated for a fraction of a second before gently passing the wipe over the corner of his lips.

His eyes followed every movement of yours, and when you looked back, his gaze seemed to beg for something he didn’t have the courage to ask for. His mouth was slightly open, and his breath brushed against your fingers so tangibly that you almost felt the heat on your own skin.

“All done,” you said, but your voice sounded different now, as if it carried everything you didn’t want to admit.

“You’re not done yet,” he murmured, and the smile that played on his lips was as soft as it was dangerous.

“I am,” you replied, but your hand didn’t move. It was still there, dangerously close to his mouth, as if it were impossible to pull away.

“Are you sure?” he teased, his tone barely audible, and you knew he wasn’t talking about the paint anymore.

The silence that followed was deafening. The proximity between you was almost painful now, each inch filled with electricity that had your whole body on high alert. His eyes dropped for a moment to your mouth, and when they returned to yours, there was something there that made your heart beat so fast you thought he could hear it.

Your hand, still near his mouth, wavered for a second, and it was all he needed to take a step forward, closing the distance between you even more. His breath mixed with yours, and you knew, you knew you were on the edge of completely losing yourselves.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, his voice a little firmer now, but still low enough for only you to hear. “And I’m tired of pretending I can.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with raw honesty that seemed to steal all the air around you. Your throat went dry, and you could feel the conflict building inside you, fighting against what already seemed inevitable.

He was younger. A freshman. And you knew you should have some sense here, some logic screaming for you to pull back, to remember the differences, the line that separated you two. But your hands were still on him, your fingers still brushing the paint-stained skin of his warm face, and you just couldn’t let go.

“Dave…” Your voice came out in a trembling whisper, carrying all that you were trying to hold back — the hesitation, the disbelief, and above all, the desire you had been trying to bury since the moment he looked at you that way, completely enchanted, for the first time.

He leaned in imperceptibly closer, his eyebrows furrowed, the intensity in his blue gaze fixed on you. “Tell me what’s holding you back,” he asked, almost pleading, but his tone was still soft, patient, as if he was trying to find his way to you.

You opened your mouth, but the words seemed to dissolve before you could even form a sentence. He waited, his proximity a temptation, and you felt as if you were being pulled toward him, against all the logic you thought you had.

“You’re…” you started, but hesitated, then took a deep breath. “You’re younger. A freshman. That…”

He laughed, low and hoarse, and shook his head slightly. "You think that matters to me?" He tilted his head, his eyes darkening with the intensity of his gaze. "I don’t care if you're older. Do you think when I look at you, that’s what I see? Because I don’t. I only see you. You, with that habit of looking at me like you’re trying to push me away, but you can’t."

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. He looked so vulnerable and so certain at the same time, and that made something inside you tremble.

"I don’t know if I can do this..." you murmured, the hesitation weighing heavily in each word.

"I know you can," he shot back, his voice firmer now, but still low, almost reverent. "Because if you didn’t want to, you would have already walked away. And you’re still here."

His words hit you like a punch, because he was right. You were still here. Your hands were still on him, and the closeness between you was so small that any movement could close it.

His fingers slowly moved until they lightly brushed your wrist. It was such a subtle touch, but it electrified everything around you, as if the world had stopped to observe that moment.

"Tell me you don’t want this," he said, his voice barely a whisper, as if speaking any louder would be dangerous. "Tell me you don’t feel this too, and I’ll stop now."

But you couldn’t say it. You couldn’t pull your hands away, couldn’t ignore the way he looked at you, as if you were something he didn’t know he needed until the moment he saw you.

"You don’t know what you’re asking, Dave," you murmured, but your voice came out weak, with no conviction.

"I know exactly what I’m asking," he retorted, his eyes fixed on yours, as if each word was a promise. "I’m asking for you. And I know you’re trying to find a reason for this not to happen, but there isn’t one."

And in that moment, you knew he was right. That it didn’t matter the logic, or the differences, or the doubts you were trying to hold on to. He was here, and you wanted him. God, how you wanted him.

Your gaze fell to his lips, then rose back to his eyes. He was so close that you could feel his breath, and there was something so vulnerable in his expression, so open, so surrendered, that you simply couldn’t hold back.

Without thinking any further, you closed the distance between you, your hands moving to his face as your lips met his. He responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you as if he’d been waiting for this since the moment he saw you. And maybe he had. Maybe you had too.

His lips were warm against yours, firm yet hesitant, as if he feared that it could all disappear in the blink of an eye. You felt his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, his body pressed to yours in a way that made the whole world disappear.

His touch was both reverent and desperate, as if he didn’t know if it was real, but was determined to imprint every detail in his memory. His hands slid over the curve of your back, stopping at the base of your waist, before moving up again, his fingers brushing the exposed skin that the light fabric of your blouse didn’t protect. It was electrifying, each touch, each movement, and you felt your heart beating so hard it seemed to echo in every cell of your body.

He pulled away just enough to catch his breath, his eyes meeting yours as if searching for some kind of certainty. "Is this... real?" he murmured, his voice hoarse, cut off. He seemed lost, his blue eyes shining amidst the remnants of lilac and green paint on his face, as if you were the only thing he could see.

You laughed softly, breathless, but didn’t pull away an inch. "Yes," you answered, your voice soft but full of something you couldn’t hide anymore. "It’s real, Dave."

He let out a shaky laugh, a mixture of relief and disbelief, and then his lips were on yours again, this time more certain, hungrier. His hands moved up to your shoulders, then slowly slid down your arms, his fingers tracing the path as if he wanted to memorize every detail, every curve, every inch of skin.

"You have no idea..." he murmured against your lips, his breath hot on your face. He stopped, just enough to find your eyes again. "How much I’ve dreamed of this. Of you."

You felt the weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze, and something inside you broke and rebuilt itself all at once. "Dave..." you started, but he shook his head, interrupting.

“No,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I need you to know. From the first day. From the moment you spoke to me, from the moment you smiled at me… I knew. I knew it was you.”

Your breath faltered, and you felt his hands rise again, this time stopping at the sides of your face, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw until they brushed the corner of your lips. He seemed so sure, so lost in you, and at the same time so fragile, as if this moment could be taken from him at any second.

“Dave…” you repeated, his name coming out as a whisper, almost a secret. You held his wrists, your fingers gently tightening against his skin. “You have no idea…”

“Tell me,” he insisted, his voice still hoarse, but laden with something so raw, so real, that it made the air around you feel heavier.

You swallowed hard but didn’t look away. “That I thought about it too. That I wanted this too. You. From the beginning.”

The words hit him like a blow, and he let out a short laugh, almost disbelieving, as he pressed his forehead against yours. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he needed that instant to collect himself, then whispered, “You’re messing with me, right?”

“You think I’d do that now?” you replied, the teasing in your voice mixed with the weight of the truth.

He opened his eyes, and there was something almost glowing in them, something that made you lose yourself completely. “God, you’re gonna kill me,” he murmured before pulling you in again, the kiss more intense, more urgent this time.

His hands slid down your back, tracing the curve of your hips before stopping at their base, as if he needed to hold you there, as if he feared you might slip away. You pressed even closer to him, feeling his heat, the smell of paint mixed with his scent, and nothing had ever felt so right.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he gave a small smile, his lips still red from the kiss. “So… is this it?” he asked, his voice soft but playful. “Can I stop torturing myself now?”

You laughed, your fingers still tangled in his shirt, and shook your head. “I don’t know. Maybe I like seeing you like this,” you replied, the teasing clear, but your eyes still filled with everything you were feeling.

He tilted his head to the side, a crooked, utterly charming smile playing on his lips as he looked at you. “If that means I can kiss you again, then torture me as much as you want.”

You laughed, short, still breathless, and pushed lightly against his chest, but not enough to create any real distance. His hands stayed firmly on your waist, and it was impossible to ignore the streaks of paint he’d left there—a deep blue staining the pale pink of your blouse. His fingers had drawn an impromptu map on your skin and the fabric, and you knew that, even without a mirror, it was visible.

“Look at what you’ve done,” you commented, trying to sound indignant as you looked down at your blouse, but it was impossible not to smile. “My blouse is ruined.”

Dave laughed softly, his thumbs sliding along the curve of your waist before tracing their way back, as if he wanted to emphasize the mess. “You should’ve walked away while you could.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, sure, because you would’ve let me go, right?”

He smiled wider now, his face still covered in paint, but somehow it only made him more irresistible. “Not for a second,” he confessed, with a tone that was both light and serious, like everything he did.

You shook your head, but couldn’t help the laugh, even as you tugged at the fabric of your blouse to examine the stains more closely. “And what do I do with this now? This is beyond saving, you know?”

Dave let out a dramatic sigh, pulling away just enough to look at you properly, but his hands remained firmly on your waist, as if he couldn’t help it. “Okay, I’ll admit it was a fashion crime,” he began, his eyes dropping to the stained fabric before rising back to your face. He looked so carefree and yet so intensely focused on you at the same time, it was almost unsettling. “But, look, you could… I don’t know, keep it as a keepsake.”

You raised an eyebrow again, his mischievous look signaling he had more to say. “A keepsake?”

“Yeah,” he continued, his smile growing. He raised one of his hands, covered in paint, and his thumb lightly brushed against the strap of your blouse, where a small paint stain was already printed. The touch was casual, but you felt a shiver run through you as if he had done it on purpose. “Every time you look at it, you’ll remember today. Me.”

You tried to roll your eyes, but it was impossible to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. “Oh, sure, because I’d want a ruined blouse to remember you by,” you teased, but your voice came out quieter than expected.

He tilted his face a little closer, his fingers still idly playing with the strap of your blouse, as if he were testing his own limits. “You will,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but with that sweet tone that made your heart race. “Because I know you won’t forget me, with or without the blouse.”

You let out a short laugh, trying to hide the effect his words had on you, but it was useless. “You’re really confident for a guy who’s covered in paint,” you commented, pointing to his face.

Dave laughed again, tilting his head to the side as he ran one hand across his own face, spreading even more paint without realizing. “Oh, seriously?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “And who was it that left me like this, huh?”

“You weren’t exactly trying to avoid it,” you replied, crossing your arms, but it was impossible to keep up the defensive posture with him so close, so absurdly adorable.

He took a step back, pretending to examine himself, before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, it’s pretty bad,” he admitted, pointing to the stains on his face, neck, and arms. But then he looked at you, a mischievous smile returning to his lips. “But, you know what? Totally worth it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the smile on your face betrayed any attempt to seem serious. “Really worth it?”

“Totally,” he said, giving that half-smile that seemed dangerous and irresistible at the same time. He took a step forward again, closing the distance, tilting his face until it was only inches from yours. “Wanna know why?”

You barely had time to respond before he continued, his voice low and heavy with something that made your breath falter. “Because now, I know what it’s like to kiss you.”

And with that, he smiled, so completely satisfied, so completely in love, that it was impossible to say anything. And you knew he was right: you’d never forget this. Or him.

[mimi-fy]

Why daisukes death was tragic (to jimmy atleast)

Daisuke is a ray of sunshine, hes a young boy from a relatively rich family. He is a pure boy, as the hibiscus flower represents beauty, and pink represents innocence, daisuke is innocent. The name of the game mouthwashing, referees to mouthwash and how you use it, you think its good for your teeth, but its not. It ruins your teeth slowly due to the sugar content. Just like jimmy. How jimmy thinks he’s fixing things but it just makes things worse in the longer run.

Like how he thinks it’s okay to send daisuke up to fix things, because daisuke is the only one who knows the insides of the ship. Daisuke was taught to follow his leaders when he was younger, and that can even go to the extreme if they taught him to follow his leaders even if it hurts to do anything to please their leaders. And daisuke always follows his leaders, he follows Swansea, and when he asks daisuke to drink daisuke is hesitant but does it anyway, because his leader told him too. When jimmy tells daisuke to go in the vent, daisuke objects but he follows because jimmy is now his leader, jimmy is the captain and Swansea is in no leader position. Captains orders, he tells daisuke. He knows he’ll follow and do his bidding for him. Daisukes death was tragic, because he was still young and had not yet lived a real life. When we get the dialogue about his life and how he was a slacker, jimmy shuts up and takes the mouthwash away from him. It’s possible that jimmy saw himself in daisuke that they both had problems and no aspirations in life, that they both followed their leaders. Jimmy could’ve followed his leaders but then he wanted to gain control as he could’ve been abused by his leaders wanting to be the one in control so jimmy could never be abused again but became the abuser. But daisuke was still young and doing all he could to try and be something unlike jimmy who has no life outside of the tulpar. He wanted to be something and have a place he worked so hard for it, unlike jimmy who doesnt work hard for things and uses other for his advantage to do the work instead (how he used daisuke). He sees the quick outcome of his actions, and jimmy in a line says ‘I’ll figure it out’ meaning he has no idea what hes doing and it’s a constant in the game. He tries to fix his mistakes, but it’s just mouthwash. He thinks hes fixing everything, but hes making it worse. That’s why the mouthwash in the game isn’t insignificant but important. Why jimmy tries to fix his wounds with mouthwash, but makes no other move. While daisuke is choking on his own blood no one dares to move him, while daisuke is dying he tries to be quiet mostly because his mothers used to complain that he was so chatty, that his leaders dont want him so loud, so as hes dying among his leaders (diasuke and swansea) he tries not to be a nuisance and stay quiet. He followed his leaders to death, and when Swansea ends his suffering by killing daisuke. So daisuke cant suffer from jimmy’s delusions calling him out. And when jimmy tells Swansea hell fix it, what jimmy said before but fucking it up that’s why Swansea tells him to fuck himself and he wishes he could’ve got daisuke the smallest chance off this rock, because he was still young and had a life ahead of him unlike everyone else. That he had a life outside of the tulpar unlike jimmy. That’s possibly why daisuke got much more guilt out of jimmy.

I kinda fucky-wuckied this one (pls check my account for my jimmy analysis!)

[stealingpotatoes]

POTES FINISHES KOTOR!

i planned on going to bed early tonight but the kotor brainworms made me finish the game and WHAT A GAME MAN!!! anyway sessions 10-12:

the t in ten stands for traumatised

i love how i was like omg i hope i find revan and theyre my best friend! but the second i found out i was revan i was screaming and running away like NOPE NO GET OUT OF HERE

just want it to be noted that in the hours between playing this morning and now ive repeatedly caught myself just staring into space w blank expression its all ive thought abt all day like what has this game DONE to me

i literally had to make a revan playlist earlier lmao i havent even finished the game

also i searched revan on my blog and turns out last year i got an ask where i discovered revan was a customisable protagonist and yet i still walked into this spoiler free, meaning i managed to outrun spoilers via stupidity or having a horrible memory or both. im the ultimate anti-spoiler machine

tbh it didnt help that i thought revan was a bloke for at least the first like, 6 hours

you know one of my first ideas when i first started the game was "this character is going to die and then i will play as revan" and after the first mission i was like "well surely there must be a segment where you play as revan where did i get the idea that you play as revan from" the mental gymnastics i did around the truth are impressive this game gaslit me SO hard

i know its been like 8 hours since i experienced it but if anyone calls me revan again i will start crying anyway lets find carth's son and get this star map

i still cant think of revan as myself it feels like shes some dead sister i never met that's not me i cant compute it

i get why one of the options earlier was "oh i understand bastila" but i did not pick that bc SERIOUSLY WHAT THE HELL THEY DID USE ME!!! LIKE!

anyway time to have one of my first times playing a party without b-dog ): ill get u back babygirl (hold out for me plz dont get darksided) ill bring murderbot or the child soldier for now

ah i love carth and mission arguing. carth has no people skills

im sorry we've had a spice shipment onboard this whole time??? i wouldve liked to have known that some hours ago substance abuse would definitely help my identity issues

aw carth n mission made up! [lie/persuade] i agree she's not just a kid we should tooootally have her in active combat situations

this sith academy is crazy wdym ppl r out here starving and dying to get in

i love that i said my companions were slaves

wtf theres only one bed. okay mission you can have the bed me and carth can sleep on the floor

onasi i recognise that sur-- DUSTIL?? SHIT CARTH ONASI OH MY GOD I FORGOR

well that went about as well as bastila's family reunion. it's okay tho cause the parental issue solver is on the case carth i will have this shit fixed asap

these tombs suck

i love that my party members have stopped following me this is useful and great i love having to manually move them everywhere 10/10 gaming

im avoiding the dark side options so hard rn idc if i'll get less prestige i CANNOT risk going evil IM NOT REVAN

ive had so many options to be like "well get fucked im darth revan" but i dont want to get laughed at or anything so im just gonna stay quiet

also i still havent accepted it and i think saying i was revan might make my character find the panic attack dialogue option

ok we got kidnapped and electrocuted by a kiddie fiddler and that seemed to fix the companions not following me problem

slay i just stole the master's ipad and that solved dusty's daddy issues. literally i could have fixed the original trilogy im so good at parental issues if i was born 4000 years later there wouldve been no star wars movies it'd be chill

sw fix-it au: revan is just There

aww theyre bonding <3 <3 <3 <3

yay i did enough stuff to enter the tomb <3 cool i'll do that later

hilarious that mr sith master was like ok fine i will declare u the victor when everyone else who applied is either dead or left the building

ELEVEN ALSO RHYMES WITH REVAN AND i'm still not over it man

god gives his toughest battles (my friend was having boyfriend problems) to his bravest soldiers (me who wanted to start playing kotor again immediately after dinner but had to be a good friend and help her)

anyway back to REAL problems. let's go get this starmap

i dislike seeing malak on the opening screen now. he literally tried to blow me up and he may have killed or kidnapped bastila i dont wanna see that bitch

can we use our force bond to like. message bastila and check she's ok bc im taking everything this game said as foreshadowing and she talked a LOT about how no jedi is immune to the dark side you know. can we make malak hasnt reverse-revan'd her

looked up a walkthrough for that pillar business cause its late and while i know it would feel satisfying to get it right, i can't be assed

pillar isn't a word anymore

oh i kinda thought if i sided w yuthara i'd be able to talk her into going lightside but wompwomp

oh yay a talk!

ok she left i got lightside points thats close enough

lets get out of here before anyone starts questioning why i came back alone from the tomb

omg lena from mission's brother's girlfriend… and shes not a bitch???? oh my god griff was the bitch lena sounds so nice lets go to tatooine

im realising ive probably missed out on a lot of sidequests by only taking b-dog and carth out for missions but uhhh

i understand that it's very important that we save the galaxy by finding this star forge but you know what i love more than saving the galaxy? drama. we're going to find mission's brother

MALAK WAS THE ORIGINAL MEATBAG

man the evil stuff sounds bad but come on revan-me had a good sense of humour. meatbag (:

fuck me sideways with a toothbrush we've got to go do walking simulator in the sand dunes again to find mission's brother

this game really makes you understand luke skywalker bc i too would be desperate to leave this planet if i spent more than a week here

oh my god so youre saying if i just walked around the full tusken base then i wouldve found mission's brother. this is what i get for not exploring every nook and cranny

im not giving griff shit. u just know in the modern day he'd have a podcast and constantly share those entrepreneur tips on instagram, thinking he was an alpha male when he has $2 and no bitches

my textures arent loading in this is so funny everything is yellow and white

ok heres the plan its very late i should be in bed but this is probably the final mission so im gonna get ready for bed and then come back to this and we're gonna pretend i make healthy life choices and that i'm not addicted to this game

session 12! yep!

and it's been so long it's definitely the morning now so theres a whole new session it's definitely not only been 10 minutes since the last bullet point and im definitely not gonna play this all night

i make healthy life decisions lets find this star forge babygirls

NOO GET AWAY FROM MY FRIEND BASTILA YOU EGGFUCKER GET AWAY

i hope the star forge has a bin i can toss malak into

christ on a bike thats a lot of ships

this secret star forge planet is lovelyyyyy. vacation planet

btw my save file is called 'tanalorr is mine' and this planet is… well its making me feel validated for calling it that

why do these ppl keep attacking me im just a chill guy

of course theres an energy shield. theres always some kind of energy shield

are u being fr? mandalorians?? get a job u guys.

omg the fish guys know im revan????

omg YOU CAN LEARN LANGUAGES W THE FORCE?? INCREDIBLE

well presumably i missed the nonlethal option to get the scout back cause i am killing this entire base rn

omg who cares im maxed out light side i have lightbeams behind me in the character menu

every time someone talks abt me n malak goin somewhere when we were besties makes me sad. like i get i was revan and evil then but still we were besties ): now we're enemies ):

great. the bad guys are gonna be inside waiting for me. this is so uncharted-core

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MALAK’s FACE HOW IS HE ALIVE THATS SO MUCH JAW GONE

is that--?? bastila queen why r u wearing black

NOO HER ASS GOT TRILLA'D!!

ok i think that convo went ok i got lightside points im gonna get her back

well aside from bastila and the murder of an entire village i think that went very well lets go sodomise a star forge

i really have got to stop using the english language in the way i do. we're gonna defeat the star forge how about that. thats better

MASTER TORTIMER SURVIVED

YAY MY GIZKA ARE BACK ONBOARD!!!!!!!!!

bringing HK cause i want him to call malak a meatbag again

love that malak's like the droids will defeat the jedi when i literally have the destroy droid ability. get fucked eggbitch

these fights are just getting annoying now where are these guys even coming from

you know what? i dont wanna fight these twats im just gonna walk away and head to where i wanna go without fighting

tf why cant i open

its rlly funny that im revans master when he called bastila a child and its implied we’re a similar age

B-DOG!! COME TO THE LIGHT

FAT W I REDEEMED BASTILA

wow we have to get off this space station before our allies blow it up, meanwhile i have to fight a bald guy with breathing problems who was responsible for a crazy reveal in the second act. deja vu…

the bastila boss fight was easy-as so i assume the malak one is gonna fucking suck

i worked out how to stop him turning the jedi into sundried tomatoes

malak is so much taller than me lmao

bit sad i didnt get to have hk call malak a meatbag again and also what happened to his face we never covered that

YEAHH WOOOOOOOOO

ooh an honour guard… a hero’s welcome

YAYYYYY MEDAL CEREMONY CLASSIC STAR WARS

taking screenshots of the gang together like a parent with their kids

IM GRINNING SO HARD RN

I DID IT I FINISHED THE GAME!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT A GOOD GAME GODDAMN. GAME OF THE YEAR IDC IF IT CAME OUT 22 YEARS AGO oh my god me n this game r basically the same age wtf

and i did it in true potes-star-wars-games fashion bc its way past midnight as it was when i finished jfo and js <3

ANYWAY HOLY SHIT!! WHAT A GAME!!!!! that plot im going completely and utterly insane over that plot i see why revan is such an aggressive fan favourite its not a time of day (night) that i can come up w coherent thoughts but wow. wow!

definitely want to replay as a dark sider at some point (and maybe mod the shit out of the game too)

thankfully ive already bought the sequel (and been informed of the restored content thing) so thats ready to go whenever im ready to give up my entire life for a kotor addiction again! yippee!

what a good story. gameplay was fairly fun despite its often-awfulness until the ending where it got a bit tedious and i felt like a diabetic with how much i was injecting myself in the leg but like! THE STORY!!!! THE CHARACTERS!!! EBON HAWK CREW MY BESTEST FRIENDS

man!

well. im not gonna shut up abt this for a while am i. look all im saying is i should probably drop a weather warning on u all cause the kotor fandom is not ready for the fanart tidal wave known as stealingpotatoes that about to hit them. batten down your fuckin hatches

KOTOR MY BEAUTIFUL BEST FRIEND MY WIFE I LOVE YOU MWAH GOOD NIGHT MY SWEET PRINCE

also to u, gentle reader, thank u for joining me on this journey <3 i hope u had as much fun as i did lmao

POTES SEMI-LIVEBLOGS KOTOR!

ive been writing my thoughts in the notes app but due to popular demand (one person asked for it) i'm posting my liveblogging DO NOT SAY/TAG/COMMENT SPOILERS PLEASE i read tags

warning im a yapper, im 10 hours in and theres a lot already (separated into sessions):

SESSION 1

whos this clown i thought i would be playing as revan

ive been too spoiled by dragon age origins this character creator sucks ass

only human???? ): fr?? ill just imagine her different in my brain or some shit

my life is being mansplained to me. is this bad writing or do i have amnesiacs

hes meta now??? hes talking abt the screen controls?????

omg a jedi and an evil jediii

omg their asses suckedddd they both died immediately

i <3 bringing a sword to a gun fight

WHY R THERE SO MANY SITH WHERE IS TJE RULE OF TWO

i clicked a workbench and it said lightsaber so either i get a lightsaber or i get a jedi friend whose lightsaber i can steal if im careful

I assume u play as revan in kotor2 so im gonna buy that now so i can play it when im done playing w this clown

i got light side points im getting a good grade in game morality which is something both normal to want and possible to achieve

everyone keeps saying revan is dead but thats my friend revan from tumblr hes clearly alive. or they???

my characters ass is distractingly present onscreen

huge fan of the way everyone collapsed drunk what the FUCK was in that wine

ok these sith ppl might be the bad guys but their armour is DRIPPY AS FUCK

ideologically i dont agree w the sith but they kinda went off w the fits

googling how to become a sith without being evil cause they have Drip

SESSION 2

i paid £1.19 to see revan he better show up in this game at some point

all these sith n i still cant find one revan….. stop faking ur death rn come out n talk to me babygirl this isnt like u….

why can i be light/dark side if im not a jedi. give me a laser sword

maybe this jedi gyal will know where revan is faking his death. or give me a fuckin lightsaber PLEASEEE

was just thinking 'does this game have romance' and then carth called me beautiful. i dont think im gonna romance anyone until i get this amnesia sorted

why is carth questioning me so much abt the crash im pretty sure i have amnesia

why tf did the jedi lady have me transferred to this ship are we in lesbians with each other???

carth's not wrong it is suspicious but i lowkey have amnesia so i coulda done that i coulda not

a lot of clone wars voice actors in this. was lucasfilm so broke in the 2000s that they could only afford the same 3 VAs for every project

mission is 14??????? we need to get my girl back in school

SESH 3

tale as old as time i fucking suck at racing games

ok i didnt realise you had to mash click i won

REVAN!!! REVAN!!!!!!!!!

why am i dreaming abt revan tho. real as hell but ?????

lmao cringe revan getting blown up. i thought the jedi beat rev-meister in a fight but no. accident

"such visions are often a sign of force sensitivity" COOL YAY GIVE ME A LIGHTSABER

BASTILLE LOST HER FUCKING LIGHTSABER??

CARTH IS RIGHT THATS LIKE DAY ONE JEDI SHIT. ok i still love her even tho shes a bit of a bitch and also doesnt have a saber

if we find a lightsaber im taking it first tho

whys carth getting weird abt me being weird that he doesnt trust me. i just wanna be friends mate

SESH IV: A NEW HOPE

'i mean no disrespect, but perhaps one of the male slaves could serve you better' i went in here to start a slave revolution and instead got called a lesbo

LMAO THERES A SPICE LAB???? WALTER WHITE WHERE ARE YOU

thats insaneee they blew up BILLIONS of people to get to one jedi?????? these sith arent fucking around theyre scary

UM THIS IS CRAZY GRAPHICS THE LIGHTING IS CLEARER/DARKER WHEN I COVER THE SUN W THE SHIP EDGE?? 2003 IS THE YEAR OF THE FUTURE

someone just called me padawan i kinda assumed i was in my late 20s do i just have baby vibes

all the jedi in the movies are so chill but every kotor jedi i've met so far has been a bit of a bitch

YO THEY HAVE A YODA!!! its not THE yoda but

cool so these guys are just the regional managers at best. your asses are not the council

why can everyone smell my force juju so strong

THATS STRAIGHT UP YODA'S CLONE WARS VA

why does fake yoda not blink both eyes at the same time. im calling him master tortimer he reminds me of the animal crossing mayor

bastila there was no need for such a fancy bow

malak is like evil aang

revan is so much shorter than malak omg

are me and bastila sharing dreams. are we both obsessed w revan

poor mission ):

WHAT WAS MASTER TORTIMER ABT TO SAY????????? EVER SINCE WHEN??? DID WE KNOW EACH OTHER BEFORE MY AMNESIACS????? DID BASTILA TELL U SMTHN MORE WHEN I WASNT IN THE ROOM???

im intrigued i like this whole hidden jedi shtick its very compelling. so is whatever theyre hiding from me

kinda surprising no jedi found me before tho given my force juju is so strong

IM A LEGIT JEDI NOW??? SICK!!!

does revan rlly not have pronouns i thought that was a tumblr thing but they straight up are a nonbinary icon ive never heard a single pronoun used. revan's pronouns are revan/revan's

damn revan seems so cool in these stories (charismatic war hero that convinced their troops to join them as conqueror?? julius caesar) and yet all we've seen them do onscreen is get blown up and die by accident

A YEAR AGO? the way they were talking i assumed revan died like. a week before the game started

master uh i forgot his name he has martin scorcese vibes said revan was a paragon of the jedi so what im getting is that all jedi gifted kids turn evil

even if i didnt know revan as a tumblr darling id KNOW revan has to be alive somewhere they way everyone talks abt them is too cool for a character who exploded and died. i think. i hope. I PAID £1.19 TO MEET REVAN

'only you and bastila can stop malak' seriously????? just us two?? ive been a jedi for like, 6 minutes and you guys keep calling bastila young???? do you guys not wanna help??

omg im getting carth to traumadump! <3

HE WAS ON REVAN'S ARMY>??

i totally knew the jedi code and did not have to google it whatsoever

they rlly said fuck going to illum heres a crystal from the bin

he told me id be a great sentinel and i was like i know but i want blue cause i dont wanna be matchies with bastila

OGH!!! I HAVE A LIGHTSABER!!!! THIS IS GAME OF THE YEAR!!!!

omg i made my lightsaber perfectlyyy which is rare <3 getting a good grade in jedi

maybe i was a travelling lightsaber salesman before my amnesia

seriously though WHO was i everyone's kinda stopped acting like i have amnesia since the first mission BUT IVE PLAYED DRAGON AGE THAT GIVES YOU OPPORTUNITIES TO RP UR PAST. THIS DOESNT. EITHER THIS GAME IS BAD (but i love it so its not) OR I HAVE RETROGRADE AMNESIA

also everyone keeps being like "Oh ur force juju is so strong" AND NOBODY FOUND ME TIL NOW??? suspicious. did getting a really bad concussion activate the force in me

im too confused and amnesiac'd to think abt anything except the fact i have a glowing stick now

FSESH FIVE:

big fan of using aliens to avoid having to get VAs to read every line

oh so carth's boyfriend saul betrayed him and became leader of the sith fleet so he has trust issues

well he needs to calm down. i can't betray him cause i dont know what the fuck is happening

yooo i love the design differences on the mandalorians

oh my god this lady wanted to fuck her droid cause it was her husband's. and then it killed itself. wtf. game of the year tho

wtf they jebaited this juhani person into going dark side but then i talked her out of it. that seems a bit mean of them

i hope she can join my party she looks too unique to be a random npc

ive been thinking and I might be going crazy but there was a loading screen tip ages ago that said jedis could wipe ppl's mind and all i thought at the time was 'fuck the shitshow acolyte didnt make that up'. but what if one of them wiped MY memory and i used to be a jedi or smthn ????????

cause they keep being like ur weirdly good at this??? did bastila steal my memories??????????

I KNOW I HAVE AMNESIA!! EVEN IF EVERYONE DOESN'T BRING IT UP BC THEYRE PROBABLY TRYING TO SAVE MY FEELINGS

if i dont have amnesia and im just deeping the fact the opening had my life being mansplained then im gonna look real stupid

anyway time 2 go to the fuckshit ruins cave where r-dog and malak went to

"it must be referring to revan. the dark lord and malak--" revan's pronouns are revan/thedarklord

bastila said theres no mention of the Builders in the archives. does she just know every text off by heart

THIS DROID IS 20K YEARS OLD ???

omg i can equip 2 lightsabers at once. game of the year

OK I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT THE AMNESIA BASTILA IS ASKING ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY BACKGROUND THAT I CAN ANSWER. I REPEAT I DO NOT HAVE AMNESIA

ok i didnt get choices and i didnt really uh… say anything that i didnt already get told im still not ruling out amnesia

also booo i didnt get to find out how old i was

master tortimer rlly looks like the ultimate ketamine yoda

LMAO THERE WAS A DIALOGUE OPTION 2 CALL JUHANI A CATGIRL

omg kashyyk from jedi fallen order!!!

I CAN UPGRADE MY LIGHTSABER THIS IS JUST LIKE JFO

omg this ship is fun i wish everyone had personalised bunk spaces like hfw… a game which came out 19 years after this i should probably just take what we have

im gonna start w manaan cause im p sure thats what B-dog said n its the same language the droid was speakin

omg hyperspace from star wars

THE GUY THE BUILDING FELL ON???

am i having dreams abt revan bc bastila killed revan and im connected to her this is so roundabout

maybe i'd sleep better if my ponytail wasnt clipping into the pillow

[kiwi accent] six

carth needs a xanax every time i think we're friends he stops trusting me

also lmao he actually pointed out how wild it was that a day one padawan is being sent on this uber important mission and HES RIGHT IT IS WEIRD!! i thought it was main character logic but he's calling it out

i really really like the sense of unease that's setting in like at first i thought it was just cause im not used to 2003 games but no this is on purpose bc carth my friend carth keeps calling it out

THERE IS A CHILD ON MY SHIP ??????????????????

lmao the representative for menaan is roland wann. its like poetry it rhymes

there are no cameras in the sith hangar <3 rookie error i can commit crimes now

bastila's favourite hobby is getting shot and walking into my grenades

this isnt a combat system this is a missing system

I GOT ARRESTED???? IM JUST A GIRL

nvm i had a datapad that said the sith were evil so theyve let me go free and we're besties

why do i feel like ive just walked into an underwater horror mission

this suit waddles at the speed of a penguin on fentanyl

i tamed the beastie this is like how to train your dragon

MALAK FIRED ON REVAN?????? WERENT THEY BEST FRIENDS???????

but maybe revan escaped when bastila wasnt looking THEYRE FINE THEYRE OUT THERE SOMEWHERE. I BELIEVE

so hopefully when we run into revan they'll be like agh i changed my ways cause of the being shot thing and they'll be my bestie

great news i successfully communicated w the ship child and gave her back to dantooine. my girl has shockingly good linguisitics skills

bastila is so dour "oh watch out for the dark side" GIRL I AM. I NEED TO GET THE BEST GRADE IN GAME MORALITY

ok OFF TO KASHYYK i hope cal kestis is there… thru the force i guess… bc he wont be born for another 4000 years but its whatever

omg you'll never guess what. another vision. wow its one of the thangs. cool this is a tomorrow me problem

[cherrydipp]

hi guys heres my melvin dipp headcanons cuz i cant remember if i ever posted them. been accumulating them for a while now so ignore the poor quality its normally just me ranting whenever i had a thought

- originally tried out for the football but didn’t make it. instead, he joined the track team hence why ponyboy is his number 1 opp.

- brings up sergei whenever he can. “nobody even likes you melvin 😒😒” “SERGEI DOES. 😡” whenever he isn’t around he also accidentally mentions their inside jokes only to be met with pure silence while he laughs by himself… “ts wasnt even funny” “SERGEI IS THE ONYL 1 WHO GETS IT 😡😡😡😡”

- in modern day would be an ipad kid. blockblast brainrotted. bullies kids on fortnite squads gamechat. he tried to play COD but ended up crying when all the grown male adults bullied him in gamechat

- light freckles around his nose and cheeks (very few and VERY light)

- was gifted a pickup line book as a gag gift one year for his birthday… would use the cheesy lines on ace but SERIOUSLY. like hes leaning against the wall and mewwing just to say “if you were a fart, i’d clench you so hard to never let you go 😏” she stared at him in disgust.

- tagteams chet with sergei.

- more outgoing/extroverted but this isn’t necessarily a good thing.

- nevel papperman coded…

- MELVIN DIPP. i whole heartedly stand by melvin being trips younger brother. it’s the reason he tags along every now and then with the socs. seen by them sort of how steve sees ponyboy i’d assume like a tag-a-long. (Brie Leftwich is diaBOLICAL for leading people to believe melvin is chet’s little brother. that’s his OPP!)

- seth from superbad variant

- would have some weird fuck ass pet because his grandma doesn’t want fur everywhere. probably a bird or a gecko.

- melvin is actually dying to be like trip and his friends. he acts annoyed when his grandma makes him go out with trip (hands in pockets puffing out his cheeks WHY) but in reality he’s secretly excited. even if that means he’s just going to be either picked on or ignored the entire time.

- gumball waterson scream: full of voice cracks and high pitched yet hitting puberty scream

- trip when all he can see when he looks melvin is himself despite them being from different dads and looking nothijg alike. its his mannerisms and the way hes become to dependent on cigarettes to get him buzzed reminds trip of himself and alcohol 😴😴😴😴 sinilar bruises blooming over his ribs and cheeks a tell tale sign that hes been getting into fights he cant win 😴😴😴 worrying that the younger is gonna end up in the newspaper the next morning cuz hes digging himself a grave

- melvin has a lisp. he was born with it and did the public school speech classes which somewhat worked but his progress all went to waste cuz of his teeth. he had originally messed up teeth — not to bad but it was bad enough where he had to get it fixed. so when he got braces they literally FUCKED him over. being teased left and right by bob and the others, making fun of his mouth full of metal. not to mention his lisp was still lingering so it just added on. when he finally got them off, he thought he was free at last… little did he know he would have to wear a retainers at night so his teeth don’t revert back. HOWEVER. his grandma FORCES him to wear it ALL THE TIME cuz she’s so worried about all the money she put into those “pearly whites” going to waste. so he has a more noticeable lisp (than he already did because he had one growing up) because of the metal retainer. which, of course, the socs all poke fun at him for. especially when hes pissing them off.

chet: “melvin ‘thut’ the fuck up you ‘thupid’ bitch”

melvin: “😥”

- most definitely one of his weak points. he shuts up as soon as it’s mentioned and his ears/face turn red. FURROWING HIS EYEBROWS. this guy mad ash!!!

- alvin chipmunk variant

- kevin g variant

- gumball waterson variant

- xyler (cosmic earth trip) variant

- sergei and melvin = kurt and ram

- slightly fraser wrwwr coded… very very very slightly……..

- GREG HEFFLEY VARIANT.

- prefers math over reading. he doesn’t really have the attention span to sit around and read a whole novel or scan articles to find evidence. plus, the teacher’s lessons go by soooo slow. math just comes easy to him to the point where he doesn’t need to study and can still achieve a passing grade.

- his eyebrows are permanently furrowed. its so bad boy why do you always look mad as HELL. most of the time it’s pretty subtle but his go to reaction face is DISGUSTED. why are you so judgeMENTAL BOY.

- he would be team logan paul

- tends to jump/threaten greasers who are bigger than him. he thinks he’s tough — thinks he can take them all on his own without anyone’s help, but of course in the end he’s wrong. trip ends up searching around town to find him lying in the lot or in some dingey alley bruised with dried blood on his face. he doesn’t know exactly the reason why he always needs to fight. he just does. it’s an urge that he can’t sustain. maybe it’s to prove something about himself, or to relieve some stress, but glory even Melvin doesn’t know why he’s so reckless. doesn’t know why he ignored Trip’s stern demand to stay home, or why he runs into the rumble. afterward, however, trip checking on melvin after the rumble as he sleeps like peaking his head in and stuff too make sure hes alright 😴😴😴 he was the one to fix him up and tend to his wounds and had been not so silently freaking out the entire time, guilt for the situation coming out in his frustration as melvin continues to tell him he doesnt need help 😴😴😴

- sergei and melvin bromosexual they joke around like regular highschool boys.

- personally, i don’t think ace likes melvin back especially with the way tilly and melody make it out to be. it’s just like a teen boy crush (celebrity crush almost really in a sense), so he’s trying to hit her up and she just glares at him before turning away. he would definitely tell sergei about her though and how he finds her attractive.

- very set on ponyboy and melvin parallels. both on the track team, both strained relationship with their older brother, both no parents, etcetc. also both are CHRONIC smokers. but for different reasons. MELVIN IS NOT THE END OF THE CYCLE. (read dipp brothers lore in case you don’t know). sergei HATES when he smokes strictly because of the smell. it’s terrible and it always lingers on the blond’s clothing.

[vowofbrotherhood]

coloring and shading practice

[ender1821]

im a child of divorce

[arthur-lesters-frontal-lobe]

Oh boy do i have the AU for you

Instead of facing the king in season two, Arthur decides to run away and live in the dreamlands. Trauma ensues yada yada yada and after ten years he is captured by the king one final time. He spends the next four years being tortured and starved. Eventually the King decides to put him out of his misery and let him bleed out. And well... i'll let you read the rest

“John?”

“Arthur- Arthur- you- fuck oh fuck Arthur. Oh- Arthur- you're- we need to- We need to get your bag. There has to be something to stop the bleeding. You're- there's so much blood. Arthur-”

Arthur knew he was a lost cause, he knew he'd die, but John wouldn't give up, he'd do everything he can. And- it feels nice to be cared for, it's nice to not be at each other's throats, only talking so Arthur knows what's happening around him. “Okay- where is it-t?”

“Its a few feet to your right, we need to crawl there, your legs are- they're- unusable- to say the least.” Arthur laughed, John was trying to soothe him, to convince him everything was okay. “I'm going to get us there. I'm going to get us there. Okay?”

“Okay John.” He strained. “On 3, 1.. 2.. 3..” John dug his nails into the dirt bellow, groaning as his broken hand had a full body to drag. Arthur tried to roll on his stomach so John could have more leverage, putting pressure on the femur jutting out of his thigh. He whimpered, he wanted to scream at the pressure, but he just nodded when John told him he's going to move forward. As he did, it felt like the bone shifted further out of his thigh, “JOHN JOHN- STOP STOP! PLEASE- JOHN.”

“What happened? What's wrong?”

“My- my leg- the femur. John- it hurts it hurts so damn much. I can't- we can't get any farther- it hurts. It's so painful to move. John- John- Fuck” Arthur whimpered, going back into a fetal position. He heard John gasp and try to hide a sob, as his mutilated hand rested on his chest again. “Arthur you need to stay awake. We need to stop the bleeding-”

“It's no use John- we- we both know I’m going to die. I appreciate you always caring for me, fixing me up when I do something stupid. But we both know this is it” Arthur stated.

“But there must be a way, Arthur. Arthur- please- you can't die now-” John sobbed.

“Okay. Just- give me a moment. I- I feel light headed- I’m exhausted. I'm so fucking exhausted.”

Arthur couldn't tell if it was his or John's tears rolling down his face, it very well could be both of them. This pain was nothing he ever felt before, this was hell, his skin burned as the wounds all stung like venom. He took his mask off to better intake air, but even still, it hurt to breath, his lungs pressing up against his broken ribs. “Are you okay? Is your hand-”

“I’m fine Arthur. My hand has broken like yours, and the pinky- it was ripped out. But it's fine. Its nothing compared to what you're feeling.”

Arthur felt so horrid for John, for what he had to endure. “I'm sorry.”

“Arthur?”

“Yes John?”

“You- you can sleep now. There are no more miles we need to travel. You can rest now.”

“But I promis-”

“I know. I know. And you did. But there's nothing we can do about that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Arthur.”

John situated them so that Arthur was covered by his cloak, so he was at least somewhat comfortable.

“Rest now Arthur, you deserve it. And I’ll see you when you wake.”

“Okay John.”

“Good night- friend, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good sleep, this too shall pass.”

i hope malevolent ends with arthur laying down for a nice long sleep. i want the last few words to be 'goodnight john' and 'goodnight arthur'. i hope the silence is sweet and peaceful. i dont even care if anything else goes well or not. i dont care if john gets his own body or arthur gets faroe back. i just need him to lower himself down for one last time, just for one good sleep. its the only ending i want for him.

[m1d-45]

will you promise that i'll see you again?

summary: your people refuse reason, and their damage refuses to heal. when it seems as if the whole world has left you, your dutiful knight still remains by your side.

word count: 2.3k

-> warnings: implied suicidal ideation (reader + unnamed side character), reader's previous deaths are mentioned in somewhat graphic detail

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @yuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“you’re one of the only things keeping me going, you know.”

dainslef turned to you in surprise, the even neutrality to your tone a sharp contrast to the rapid pace of his heart. he wasn’t a fool, he knew that the hunt had to be taking a heavy toll on you, but this…

this was more than he expected.

he knew he was one of a pitiful few who saw through celestia’s false puppet, who knew you for you and not their mirage. he knew that the entire world was hellbent on erasing you from existence, that you’d been forced through your own death countless times as teyvat pulled you apart and pushed you back together far from the scene of your would-be murder. he saw the golden scars across your skin, the dried remains of blood lining the wounds you hadn’t been able to patch yet. he’d been the one to wash them away, not minding the refuse soaking into his gloves if it meant your hands could be clean.

he recognized the dull exhaustion in your eyes, the same as the ones he saw in the reflections of lakes. tired, worn, barely there, hanging on by one solitary string that was wound so tightly around a desperate hand.

you had always been his reason for continuing. when the traveller broke down and the ruler of the abyss hid from the sun, you were there. when the chasm’s mud clung to his boots and the memories in his head burned as nails forced between his eyes, you were there. his rosary was kept tight to his chest at all times, familiar prayers pulling him up in the morning and forcing him to sleep at night. he was alive for far, far too long, but you made it bearable. you were his duty, his promise.

he never once thought that he’d be yours. then again, he never thought that he’d have to defend you from the ones you once called friends. time never did pass how he expected it to.

“…leading light?”

you looked down, twirling blades of grass around your fingers. he had led you up to a mostly desolate area of sumeru, west of bayda harbor. it close enough to the sea, forest, and desert that you could reasonably make an escape through any of those routes if need be, while also providing a rather pleasant view. the sky was bleeding red and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, a remarkable sight that fell on blind eyes. there was no use trying to enjoy nature’s beauty when he still kept one hand on his sword and both ears pricked for the slightest sign of danger.

you shouldn’t have to worry about your safety. you shouldn’t have to prioritize based on how likely you are to get hurt, or how easily it would be to make an escape. you still flinched when the wind blew a little too quick, used to it heralding armored footsteps and battle cries. in another life, you were welcomed with open arms, able to enjoy yourself without constantly being on high alert. teyvat did what it could to adapt; the air was still, frozen in time, barely a bird chirping for miles. it was meant to be comforting, he thinks, but dead silence was more unnerving than any breeze.

“i mean it.” he could hear every shift in his cloak around your shoulders, the heavy fabric doing little to soothe your stress. it was yours more than it was his now, to the point he felt claustrophobic wearing it. how long had he been traveling with you? the days blurred.

“i don’t doubt you.” he never would. never could. he’s not sure, even if he somehow wanted to, that his body would allow him to treat your words as anything less than fact. “but i don’t understand what you mean.”

you were a god. the creator, the first, the one that shaped the sovereigns scales and laid the foundations of earth. you predated the archons, celestia, the very skies themselves…

and he, somehow, was a driving motivation for you?

his words must have been funny, a sharp laugh tumbling out of your mouth. it was bitter, humorless, and somewhat raspy. he made note to find some water for you later. “what else could i mean?” you turn to him, some of his confusion lost as your eyes found his. even this burnt out, deep bags set beneath them, you still managed to steal the very air in his lungs. “you’re the only reason i’m still here.”

he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, when you were you and he was him? when the world had abandoned you, it made sense you’d cling to what remained faithful. it was merely coincidence he happened to find you first, that’s all. coincidence that you trusted enough not to run from, coincidence that you allowed to care for your injuries. there was nothing to say, because you held nothing for him in particular, only leaning on him out of need. he had to believe that. what was he left with if that wasn’t true? an awkward truth hid beneath his well-known lies, too large for him to see the edges, let alone to contain.

“please… do not say such things again.” to ask of his god what he could not ask of himself was surely some form of heresy, as was willingly laying aside his guard when he was the only one who was tasked with protecting you. he pulled his attention from the tide below, from the rustling trees, holding faith that the world would not be needlessly cruel. he stepped forward, kneeling beside you. even up close, you still seemed painfully small. “it is your own resilience that has allowed you to persevere.”

it’s the earth that leads you from danger.

it’s the water that follows you wherever you go.

it’s the leylines that whisk you to safety.

it’s the wind that warns you of what’s to come.

it’s the you from the past that protects the you in the present.

it’s the you in the present that provides for the you in the future.

it’s you, from everywhere and everywhen, continuing to fight.

and yet you sigh. you look away, across the sea, tracing fontaines skyline. “it really isn’t. i was lucky to run into you when i did.”

you had just crossed the wall back into the forest, burning hot and shaking. he was the lucky one, in truth, to be able to pick your figure out from the sand below. perched on a high cliffside, even mitachurls were reduced to small brown flecks.

you had worn a cryo mage’s cloak, which was what initially drew his attention. abyss activity wasn’t uncommon in the area, but a cryo mage in the desert… that was cause for intrigue. he stepped forward and slid down the steep face in front of him, a slight puff of dust marking his landing in the desolate sand of old vanarana.

he didn’t know what to expect. you stumbled around the jagged remains of a tree, heading for the statue of the seven. he followed, only growing more confused. cryo and dendro did not react with each other, and there was no way to “slow” a statue. a scouting mission, maybe? but why a cryo mage, when pyro would have been far more advantageous in the case of an attack?

he leaned around the corner carefully, prepared for the sight of a staff or the chanting of abyssal magic filling the air. the entire world seemed to be holding its breath, frozen in place and waiting for some trigger to continue.

he saw none of that. you were collapsed at the foot of the statue, faint wheezing only making it to his ears by virtue of the standstill around him. you held no staff, commanded no magic, your chest barely moving with air.

he’d never seen a mage seek out the archons when dying. one hand squeezed the handle of his sword as he crept forward, ready to strike should the situation turn against him. the sand barely shifted beneath his feet, his own heart sounding too loud to his ears. you did not move, showing no signs that you had noticed his approach. he still didn’t trust it.

your cloak was tattered and torn, with thick gloves atypical of a mage. they reminded him more of hilichurl wraps, which was strange considering you wore no mask. your face was instead covered by what looked like eremite cloth, just as stained and dirtied as the rest of your clothes. what he could see looked almost human; in another life, he could believe you were a weary traveller, lost amidst the sand.

he was acting foolish. if the abyss had a human tool, he needed to figure out why. he reached down, undoing the sloppy knot of your veil and letting the brocade fall limply to the grass.

…grass. he blinked, eyes flickering between the ground and your face, not sure which was harder to believe. flowers had bloomed around you, protecting your body from the blazing sands, and he’d be a fool not to recognize the face plastered all over every bounty board.

he didn’t understand. if nothing else, he thought the archons would have enough respect for their creator to know when they were being lied to, yet before him was barely living proof of the inverse. sweat beaded along every inch of exposed skin, deep-set heat exhaustion burning you from the inside out. how could you be a threat? how could they be so blind?

he looked again, the shine of elemental sight straining his eyes, catching flickers of the dendro energy pouring from the statue. you were the only one the archons would feed. you were the only one to make the very earth break its own rules, allowing lotuses to bloom from barren soil. something painfully similar to rage threatened what remained of his rationality, and it took all he had to push it aside.

that didn’t matter. if he went off on some banal revenge quest, he’d be no better than them. your safety mattered more. he picked you up and set aside how calm his curse felt, beginning the trek back to his camp. behind him, the flowers already began to wither, losing their persistence without you to foster it.

perhaps that initial meeting was luck. but these was no luck involved in your trust in him. when you woke up and saw him at your side, you chose to trust him. you chose to believe that he was not like the others, that he would protect you, and he was forever grateful for that trust. nobody could fault you for being angry, for being spiteful about what you were put through and choosing to lash out. nobody would have the right to be upset if you chose to vent your wrath against those that had hurt you.

but you didn’t. you chose, again and again, to believe in the world. you chose to let them live their lives, even if it meant getting hurt again in the process. you chose a quiet life traveling with him over the comfortable life on your throne. to willingly choose to travel with a disgraced knight to spare your people guilt… he couldn’t decide if it was noble or reckless. either way, he was selfishly happy that he was the one to stay by your side.

“i won’t try to convince you. but, please.. do not give up on yourself so easily.” i know far too many who have died by the same hand. “the world and its opinion does not define you. only you get to decide where fate leads.”

you lean towards him, and he thinks you might have passed out- but no, your head lands on his shoulder with far too much precision. he stiffens, not used to existence without a constant pain beneath his skin. “how motivational. you tell all your soldiers that?”

his heart is beating too quickly, thoughts unusually hard to grasp. you’re the only one who could have this effect on him. he only wished it wasn’t now, when your belief in yourself was on the edge. “i mean it. none of this is your fault, and neither are celestial actions the people’s fault. i know that you are hurt, but i don’t want you to accept that main needlessly. you shouldn’t have to view your creation with such pain.” slowly, carefully, he raises the hand closer to you, doing his best not to disturb you as he settles it on your arm. he’s can only hope that the contact brings you as much comfort as it does him. “if nothing else, believe me. promise you’ll at least try.”

he doesn’t think you’ll agree. why would you make a promise to one who represents the heaven’s betrayal? why would you let him hold you close at all, when you can surely sense the bindings of those who tried to kill you wrapped tightly around his soul? he doesn’t know. all he can do is hope.

“…alright, dainslef. i promise.”

twilight has long since fallen, and yet he smiles for the first time in centuries.

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[necarion]

It's a really hard dynamic in general! Right now, Democrats seem to have gotten judged by the amalgamation of arguments from its most extreme members (although many of them are correlated). Defund the police. Prison abolition. Ban all gas cars. Ban gas stoves. Ban meat. Let Palestine destroy Israel. Except that while the mainstream Democrats disavowed all those positions, they seem to have stuck in the public mind. Moderating on a lot of them simply didn't matter. Getting inflation under control didn't matter because the numbers were high.

In contrast, Donald Trump somehow managed to not be judged on the extremely unpopular plans his own staffers had written, because he said "oh I'm not doing that" and that somehow stuck. Republicans didn't get judged particularly hard on what conservative judges were doing, or legislation introduced by, like, Marjorie Taylor Green (although Democrats were judged highly by Ilhan Omar, for example).

So there's a harder dynamic than just "talk about popular things and get your extreme members to shut up about unpopular ones" (although that's hard for Democrats in particular, because they tend to pay attention to stuff more and care about things).

There is this dynamic that Republicans are allowed to just lie about what they're doing or not doing, which makes it a whole lot easier to keep the coalition under control. Trump can credibly say to MTG in private "look, I'm going to say I'm not going to ban abortion, but I'll give you what you want in judges and executive orders". He can say "I'm going to fix inflation" and the press somehow gives him "Trump announces plan to fix inflation" and put "he has given no specifics of plan" on like paragraph 18 or something. In general, Democrats are fucking grilled on every details of policy ideas that almost certainly won't pass (medicare for all, etc.), whereas Republicans get a pass on very specific and detailed plans that include specific mechanisms for action.

Hell, right now basically all the party-switching is people running as Democrats and then switching to Republicans, giving supermajorities or something. (We had one this time who won election as a Democrat and within a week of the election ending, said "I no longer recognize this party" and switched and got a high-ranking position.)

So, yes, it would help a lot of Democrats could get their left wing to just shut up about unpopular stuff and help them win. To attack Republicans solely on their unpopular stuff and promise to do popular stuff themselves. But the fact of the matter is, Democrats are generally not the type who would flat-out lie when asked about something unpopular (and gets grilled much more closely when they try to evade), whereas Republicans can avoid the grilling by just lying about it.

And that's a nearly impossible double-standard to deal with.

People think trump is “authentic” even though he lies all the time—even though many voted for him on the assumption he was lying about the few things he is probably being honest about—because he does not speak in cliches, and he is willing to piss people off. That’s it, that’s all it takes. And frankly even democratic politicians who have a reputation as rebels like Bernie Sanders are pretty dang milquetoast in comparison.

I really feel like a lot of centrist pundits had their brains broken by the sister souljah kerfluffle in the 1992 campaign, which has taken on totemic status in the horse-race-obsessed quarters of American politics, but it is simply objectively inarguable that you do not need to establish your moderate bona fides to win elections anymore (if it ever was—the real thing at work there in 1992 was the way race functions in American politics, which has always been pretty sui generis). And I don’t think it’s that the United States tolerates far right radicals better than they tolerate middle-left social democrats, it’s that the far right have stumbled onto a weirdly effective standard bearer and most of his major political opponents don’t understand why he is effective.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

DPxDC Prompt

Thinking back on it, Danny probably should have been more wary of being given the title ‘Ender Of Timelines’.