#but ultimately it’s not something i can really control

[hakugreenfinch]

i actually firmly believe that even if for the wrong reasons, curly was right to not give anya the captain gun.

im basing this on the assumptions/readings that a) jimmy was abusing both curly and anya in different ways, b) he assaulted anya in her sleep (i have several reasons to believe so) and as a consequence c) curly did not realize things were that bad until it was way too late (obligatory "even though yeah he should have taken anya seriously from the first report of 'hey jimmy was in my room last night'") but neither did anya really grasp just how badly she was being abused until after the dead pixel conversation (i think this is important because it shows just how careful jimmy was in his machinations).

the thing is we want to believe that oh sure if anya had a gun it would have been fine. but the other thing is that if you have a weapon in self defense - your attacker also has that weapon. giving anya the gun would have been as good as giving jimmy the gun and cocking it for him too - not to mention we actually experience that the gun isnt easy to fire, thus making it less reliable in the case of an emergency than one would think.

anya assumed curly wouldnt have given her the gun because she knew his relationship with jimmy, she knew curly would be worried she would hurt herself with it and she knew the company sucked and would have penalized them all if the gun got out of its case for reasons they dont deem "justified" - they didnt put locks on the sleeping quarters, i doubt they would rule anya's personal safety as reason enough. i think her assumptions in that were correct, curly isnt super strict as a captain but hes not "sure heres the super locked safety gun" lax. he trusted swansea with the axe because he trusted swansea to use it appropriately, he wouldnt have trusted anya with a firearm if she was in mental distress.

i dont think those were the good reasons to not let anya protect herself in this way ("corporate/jimmy will get mad" just is not it). but i do believe if he did give her the gun it would have been a matter of time before jimmy gets ahold of it and shit goes south a lot sooner. i believe jimmy isnt brave enough to do anything to anya while she could ask for help - his entire tactic is based on only letting anyone else notice small things that he could make excuses for. he probably would have taken it from anya while she was asleep, when she didnt have it right in her hand, when she looked away for a moment. it doesnt really matter, he would have found a way, boom, jimmy has a gun now.

why i think that would have been a lot worse than him acquiring the gun as late as he does in the game is that jimmy is pretty much fueled by a hunger for power and control. he gets those once curly is out of the picture as someone capable of running the ship but before the crash? hes very sneaky about his manipulation. he goes after anya physically when nobody can catch him because he can overpower her but he wouldnt try something like that with curly who is likely physically stronger than him (curly weight lifts in his free time!) which is why he puts pressure on him emotionally. the crash is actually very convenient for jimmy, he gets to usurp the title of captain without having to actually do anything to curly himself (as in, with his very own hands and with the intent of getting him out of his way). i just truly think if he had gotten his hands on the gun while curly still fully believed he was his friend and could fight back things would have gotten very ugly a whole lot faster.

tl;dr i think "anya should have had the gun" is something we want to believe would have saved the entire crew but considering jimmy's methods of exercising power over his crewmates proves otherwise. curly had the wrong reasons to not arm anya, but ultimately the longer the gun is out of jimmy's view the better.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Marriage AU needed its justice lol

-

Adam and Lucifer were sitting together in the living room while Nifty was cleaning the place with such passion, the Devil waited patiently for Adam’s answer to his offer. He knew he’d need time, obviously.

Adam: So let me get this straight. I, give my soul to you, and in return you’ll be giving me protection?

Lucifer: Yup, that’s it! And you’ll be under my care and service and all that.

That made the tiny maid interested. The ultimate bad boys, getting in a situationship? Ohohoho.

Nifty: Ooh, what do we have here?

She secretly went behind Adam’s chair and pretended to swipe there, she always wanted to know if these two had anything to do together.

Adam: Under your service? What’s that supposed to mean?

Lucifer: Means you’ll be under my command and control, obviously. A little payback.

Adam really, REALLY hated the idea but he supposed he didn’t have much of an other choice. Even though Lucifer’s face made him want to punch him.

Adam:.. Fine. What will I be signing?

Lucifer: I am working on it, don’t worry.

Adam: You better.

He got up and left leaving Lucifer sighing and doing as well. On his way he didn’t notice the short pink maid following him.

((I hope this is good for a start? Idk.))

((That's a great start!! Can this one take priority 🥺))

Lucifer went into his office at the hotel, he needed to put the finishing touches on Adams soul contract. He couldn't believe that he was going to get to own his soul.

Nifty watched as he wrote the contract and then left to go to bed. He had left the contract open to let the ink dry. She rushed over and looked at it and read it.

Well this needs adjustments! This works more in Lucifer's favor than Adam they need something more mutual.

Nifty grabbed a pen and got to work adding everything she wanted to the contract. There!

Nifty: Hehehe perfect.~

She hurried along to bed herself, she had worked on that contract for four hours.

The next day Lucifer rolled up the contract and walked out with it, he brought it to Adam and almost joyously handed him the pen.

Nifty watched from afar, she couldn't wait!

Adam sighed, better than being murdered all the time. That's what he had to tell himself. Hesitantly, he signed his name on the dotted line.

In a flash of gold light, three things appeared on Adams body, a golden soul chain that connected to, a golden pointy crown appeared on his head wrapping around his horns and a gold ring with a diamond on his ring finger.

Lucifer got a matching one.

Adam: Ummm, the fuck is this?

Nifty: YAY!! Congratulations!!

Adam and Lucifer jumped.

Lucifer: Huh? For what?

Nifty: For getting married.

Adam: WHAT!?!

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

osi’s midnight masquerade; a theatre troupe of queer vampires who play by their own rules. Would you be able to tell us a bit more about the vampires who make up this theatre troupe? 👀

I couldn't begin to understand the lives of these salacious vamps, so, I'll let Osi provide clarity ;)

a mini wip intro for chirstmas?? i think yes

WIP INTRO - Osi's Midnight Masquerade (narrated by Osirys himself)

Being a vampire isn’t a blessing. Let’s start there. It’s not the romanticized eternal youth nonsense you read about in books or see on glossy screens. It’s not the allure of satin sheets or the thrill of moonlit hunts. It’s a tightrope walk, every step one miscalculation away from falling into something dark, sharp, and impossible to climb out of. I would know—I’ve been walking that line for centuries.

To most, we’re the fantasies they want to believe in: seductive silhouettes cutting through smoke and shadows, predators with a touch of tragedy. People want us to be beautiful and dangerous, the ultimate contradiction. They want the dream of immortality wrapped in silk and sharpened by fangs. And we let them believe it. We have to. The truth? The truth is too messy, too raw for their imaginations to handle. Without connection—without others to keep us tethered—we lose ourselves. The hunger takes over. The walls of who we are collapse. That’s why I built the Masquerade in the late 70s. Not just for the performances or the power, but for the people. For the family.

And what a family it is. Deeply flawed, creative, brilliant, infuriating—but mine. Each of them brings their chaos, their hunger, their fight. Every single one of them keeps me grounded in ways I can’t always explain.

Milo is the heartbeat of the Masquerade, the one who keeps us moving even when everything else threatens to fall apart. Her music isn’t just accompaniment—it’s a command, shaping the energy of every performance, holding the audience in her grip. She doesn’t simply compose; she controls, her hands always in motion, her mind consistently several tempos ahead. Small-framed, but impossible to miss, Milo has a presence that feels like gravity, the kind that steadies the room while reminding everyone who’s really in charge.

Her sharp, hazel eyes don’t miss a thing, and her voice—measured but biting when necessary—can cut through the noise like a conductor silencing an unruly orchestra. She thrives on precision, on keeping chaos at bay, but she’s just as willing to unleash it if she thinks we’ve earned it. Milo doesn’t deal in softness, but when you’re spinning out, she’s the one who holds you steady, unyielding and certain, even if she’ll never admit that’s what she’s doing.

Still, Milo isn’t easy to know. For all her command, she keeps most of herself locked away behind a wall of sharp wit and sharper boundaries. You’ll catch glimpses sometimes—in the way her fingers drift over the piano keys during a rare moment alone, or in the weight of her gaze when she thinks no one’s looking. But the second she realizes you’ve noticed, she shuts it down, turning back into the unflinching architect of the Masquerade’s rhythm.

Vinscint is her constant, the foundation beneath her intensity. Tall, broad, and deliberate, he moves as if he's never rushed a day in his life. His calmness steadies the surrounding storm, and his strength quietly holds the Masquerade together when everything else feels like it’s falling apart. They create a balance—Milo’s sharp drive is softened by Vinscint’s patience, while the weight of his silence is anchored by her commanding presence.

Together, they’re the reason we’ve even lasted this long, the ones we all look to even when we won’t admit it. Milo keeps the rhythm, Vinscint keeps the ground beneath our feet, and between the two of them, we manage to survive.

René? René is my star, the one who steps into the spotlight and makes you forget the world existed before he arrived. He doesn’t just perform—he commands. When René moves, it’s with a grace that doesn’t feel learned, as though the stage itself bends to accommodate him. His voice has a richness that fills every corner with the theater, every word an invitation laced with danger, every glance a challenge you know you’ll lose but can’t help but accept.

His presence is magnetic and intoxicating in a way that feels unfair, like the universe cheated by putting that much beauty, talent, and raw hunger into one person. He burns so brightly it’s a miracle he hasn’t engulfed himself entirely, and yet there’s always the sense that he might. He leans into it though, weaponizing the tension, the risk, and the inevitability of his self-destruction. He thrives on it, and the audience does too. They adore him, worship him even, and René takes that adoration like it’s owed. Because to him, it is.

Tof is something else entirely. He doesn’t just stir up chaos; he is chaos, wearing it like a tailored suit, all sharp smiles and sharper edges. He steps onto the stage with a kind of careless confidence, like he owns it—and, in a way, he does. Rules mean nothing to Tof. He doesn’t just break them; he obliterates them, scattering the pieces for everyone else to trip over while he watches from the sidelines with a grin that could cut glass. He likes to see how far someone is pushed before they snap, and when they do, he’s there, ready to offer a smirk or a sharp quip that makes you wonder if he planned the whole thing.

But here’s the thing about Tof: he’s not as reckless as he wants you to think. Beneath all that chaos, there’s a mind that’s always working, always calculating. Every sharp word, every sly grin, every rule he shatters—it’s all deliberate. He’s not just ahead of the game; he’s the one running it, even when it looks like he’s spiraling out of control. That’s his brilliance. He’ll make you think he’s falling apart, but the truth is, he’s the one pulling the strings.

Now, of course, Tof does have one glaring flaw—or maybe it’s just part of his charm. He can’t keep his dick in his pants. It’s not just the sex, though that’s certainly part of it. For Tof, it’s about the game, the thrill of pursuit, the power of knowing he can have anyone he wants—mortal or immortal. It’s the tension, the chase, the way seduction gives him the upper hand before the other person even realizes they’re playing.

Moving on to Xaviyr, my baby. My soft spot. My reminder of what it was like to feel alive before the hunger sank its teeth into me. Xaviyr is young by our standards, still carrying a kind of softness the rest of us can’t afford anymore. His face, round and open, hasn’t yet been hardened by centuries of survival, and his wide, dark eyes still hold questions instead of answers. There’s a quietness to him, a gentleness that stands in stark contrast to the sharp edges of the rest of us.

But don’t mistake that softness for weakness. Xaviyr may not burn like René or cut like Tof, but there’s a strength in his stillness that’s impossible to ignore. He draws people in without demanding their attention, makes them feel safe without ever promising safety. It’s a skill none of us could replicate even if we tried.

Still, I worry about him. Xaviyr’s softness is part of what makes him so vital to the Masquerade, but it’s also what makes him vulnerable. This world isn’t kind to people like him, and I can see the toll it’s already taking, even if he doesn’t admit it. He’s learning, though. Learning how to navigate the hunger, the power, the constant push and pull of what it means to be one of us.

Pandora, the silent watchdog of our darkest secrets, her gaze defined by the weighty burden of her knowledge. She is known for her clairvoyance, an ability that survived her transition into vampirism. Her eyes, like deep pools of wisdom, perceive the fragile fissures in our lives long before they expand, a subtle warning etched in her expression. She is the guardian who steps in when we teeter on the edge of self-destruction, gently guiding us back from the precipice when our blindness threatens to consume us.

And last, but certainly not least, there’s me. Osirys. Osi to those who’ve earned it. I’m the one who built all this, the one who keeps it standing when everything else threatens to fall apart. I’m not the star—that’s René. I’m not the heart—that’s Milo. I’m the centerpiece, the one who holds the pieces together even when they don’t want to fit.

I’m not proud of everything I’ve done to keep the Masquerade alive, but I don’t regret it either. Regret is a luxury vampires like us can’t afford. The stage is what matters. Our family is what matters. And as long as I’m here, as long as the lights still burn and the audience still comes, I’ll make sure the Masquerade survives.

When we come together, we create something special that’s bigger than just each of us alone. On stage, we become unstoppable. The crowd feeds us their amazement, their curiosity, and their willingness to be swept away, and we soak it all in. That’s the real desire—not just our good looks or charm, but the presence we bring. It’s about being able to look someone in the eye and make them feel truly seen, wanted, and alive. That’s what makes us what they call, 'seductive.' Once they experience that connection, they won't want to let it go.

Neither do we.

That’s what the Masquerade is. A lifeline. A purpose. It’s what keeps not just me, but all of us from falling apart; no matter how sharp the line my children and I walk. If holding on to the spotlight makes me a monster, so be it. I’ve learned to live with that. Because at the end of the night, when the audience is gone and the lights fade, I’m still here. And that has to count for something.

tag list ; reply or dm me to be added to it ♥

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@unforgettable-sensations @hissorrow22 @boredwritergirl @thewrathoffemalerage

@rirori-jeorgiarn @spookyceph @the-golden-comet @seastarblue @wyked-ao3

[r0b0tb0y]

I know a lot of fic writers are currently campaigning against the trend of discord servers where readers privately discuss a fic, but I do think it's an important part of the reading experience in many cases.

The obvious one is readers being able to critique a story without fear of the creator seeing it, which is still important even with something as small as a fanwork. It's clear with a more public platform like Goodreads where authors and reviewers can come into conflict easily. It isn't always in an author's interests to be reading a discussion about their work (whether positive or negative). There's obviously a different dynamic within a fandom, but the author is still the one in control of the story, and criticism can seem especially confrontational if the author feels like an underdog.

With any fandom discourse I stop and ask 'how could this be harmful to fans of colour?' and it's understandable why a private discussion space is useful. If there are issues in the story, readers can work through these without being surveilled. It may not be productive to involve the author during or after those conversations.

There's more innocuous things, too: as a writer who loves doing twists, I find it delightful when readers are speculating/hypothesising but it's tricky to respond while maintaining narrative tension. A story problem might ultimately resolve itself satisfyingly, but an author promising 'just you wait!' can be really frustrating.

It can also just be embarrassing to be effusive to an author. I can see how beneficial it would be to compose dispatches ('here's what the chat thought of this chapter!')—even in the case of a critique that's been workshopped to constructively help the author improve on an issue. For those authors who are posting WIPs in to the void only to discover it does have fans, that's a bummer, but you can always post a note asking for discussion—obviously there's cases where we do find out we have a micro-fandom, because there's posts about it. Still, I don't think the comment section is a perfect substitute for a groupchat. Lurkers are gonna lurk: if you take away the choice between public and private, I think shy readers would opt not to talk at all.

As an author I totally understand the craving to devour every little thing everyone said and check every emoji in every message for maximum serotonin (or keep myself awake picking over criticisms), but I think art gets stronger every time someone interacts with it, and sometimes those interactions won't involve the creator. It's kind of amazing that a story can travel beyond your own reach. Like... it's fanfic, you know? We're all poachers here.

[bldrdsh]

There's something about the way Temir seemed to be picking apart the pieces of their conversation that led Karthisius to believe he'd done this kind of dance before. How long can a being exist in this kind of LIFE before they are forced to reconcile with the idea of their lack of control over anything. Karthisius had made a POINT to be independent if for no other reason than he wouldn't be SUBJUGATED by a POMPOUS GOD KING like Zeus. The admission that he had little clarity on the gods of other pantheons makes SENSE of his behavior and after a moment, Karthisius speaks again.

"It depends on who you ask–in some cases they are beloved and revered. In others they are tyrants who are ONLY capable of cruelty. I tend to view them as the latter, but my experience with them has been limited to my godhood, and I've NO INTEREST in continuing to have to learn my lesson so to speak. The point I made earlier about the things you've been told regarding your sky gods, actually applies to the gods in my pantheon. It's largely why I refuse to live on Olympus amongst them. They're tyrants and monsters, I haven't any interest in forcing myself to be around them."

He knows ultimately his experience will forever be skewed due to the nature of his ascension, but it was irrelevant what the reasoning was behind the gods of his pantheon acting the way they did, THEY allowed him to struggle alone, and for that he refused to IGNORE it. That was simply the introduction to what all else came following it. In the end he figured it was moot to try and make amends to people who would never actually have an interest in making it right.

When asked about what exactly had happened between him & Zeus he lets out a quiet sigh. It wasn't a conversation he ever really had, and even when he did on the rare occasion he was willing to share the tale, it was ALWAYS viciously unpleasant. He elects to keep it short this time.

"My transition into godhood was a difficult one, and it should never have been a SITUATION I was forced to sort out for myself–Zeus seemed to disagree considering he willingly was complacent in allowing me to struggle. What he did not foresee was how DEFIANT it wound up making me. Everything else that came after was just a DETERIORATION of an already broken situation."

That was it. The doubt was there, perhaps not seeded into his mind since it had already been there, but awakened from the darkened depths, dragged to the surface with every word from the other gods' lips. It was a strange feeling, to have a buried part of himself resurface like disturbed sand beneath calm waters. Too many thoughts came to light, too many memories, too many options, worries, anxieties, fears, and they all sought to hound the deity, swallow him whole and spit him out the other side.

But what would he be on that other side? Hardened? More bitter? Something more akin to his father? Or something new? Something better? Who he could be, who he should have been?

No, he needed time to think, to let it all sink in if he dared. Would his father know? As soon as he stepped out of this protected realm, would his father sense his doubt? Would he feel the growing distance between his son and his ideals? Did he know about Shyngay? Was this what his little brother was out there somewhere feeling at this very moment?

"I need time to mull things over..." Temir decided in a more controlled manner, always falling back onto that business-like demeanour as if he simply needed to look over a few documents and not reevaluate his entire existence.

But there was one more thing that did catch his attention. "The gods of my pantheon, those outside of my siblings and I... what are they like?" It was a question he'd never really asked before, not outside his family, the answer always being the same. They were monsters, hated his brothers and sisters, shared the blame of their father amongst them for simply existing. They were just physical embodiments of Erlik's spite, his cruelty. Which was true, but was that all they saw them as? "I have to admit, I've never actually met them myself. They're not exactly a part of my everyday circles. No gods are, other than my family. If I need something, of course. They can be rather useful when you need to sway public opinion or shut someone up." He saw no reason in not being honest about the fact.

Though that brought forth another thought. "What happened between you and Zeus?"

[mumblesplash]

Gonna be honest I followed you back when you posted that first DP comic. I loved it so I followed you, and now fast forward three years later and I've been enjoying your other content so much that I genuinely Forgot that you were the one that made all those incredible comics all that while ago. Bro you're so interesting. Thank u for existing and creating as you do, even if what exactly you're creating changes <3

oh my god this is so sweet and nice of you to say i’m gonna cry????

[deoidesign]

Btw just want to be clear that Time and Time Again is set to, and will if I don't pause, conclude in May 2025!

Webtoon didn't want to renew or give me any extra episodes so I'm trying to work with what I have. I'm sorry it's ending sooner than I'd like, it's been difficult to come to terms with and challenging to condense my plans.

You deserve a solid conclusion, and I've spent months writing to try and reach that. If there's anything you'd really like to see before it ends, do let me know in case I can (and want to) fit it in.

I'd rather not work with them again, and I hope I won't have to! But coming off of years being overworked and underpaid does not make that easy, to say the least...

I'm doing my best, and I hope you like what I have coming up.

[ganondoodle]

im kinda glad i was a tiny child when windwaker came out and i only played it years later without having internet access for the longest time bc i would have NOT survived the hatred i know ww got when it first came out bc it wasnt what most people expected (ww is my fav zelda)

loving botw but not liking totk and seeing the vast majority praise the latter like its the holy grail while alot also discrediting and needlessly hating on botw for it is already making it hard to stay calm about :U

[mc-critical]

Bonus:

2.22 (46) / 2.24 (48) / 2.25 (49) / 2.35 (59) / 2.39 (63)

[thedreadvampy]

it's been a strange arc so far

when I was 19-21 and having an extremely imbalanced relationship with someone in their mid 30s I was like 'we are both adults so the fact that this is fucking me up is my fault'

when I hit my late 20s and saw how young people in their late teens and early 20s seem now I was like 'oh wait I was so fucking young I didn't know shit about my own limits or about managing relationships and I don't know why someone in their mid to late 30s would be into that except for nefarious purposes'

the weird bit is now I'm into my 30s - not even that far into my 30s - and while I still wholeheartedly believe that last thing about how young (and self destructive) 20 year olds are, I'm also kind of like 'huh, actually nobody I know that age has their shit remotely together and frankly the reason this fucked me up is because NEITHER of us knew what the fuck we were doing it how to cope, for different reasons and at different life stages, and there probably wasn't any malice or intent to control as much as there was Blind Flailing.'

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

one thing abt being disabled/chronically ill that some people don’t get is that sometimes body maintenance that ensures you have the absolute minimum amount of function can also be something that takes away a lot of control and autonomy. you can argue till the cows come home that making those decisions to try and help yourself (or realistically to try to make sure things aren’t worse than they already are) is something that exhibits control and autonomy and stuff, but they can be so limiting in practice because they’re things that take up so much time but have to be done to do anything else

[kyouka-supremacy]

What's p/p?

Ah, I meant to say, pp, Psycho-Pass. I usually add slashes to avoid unprompted rambles to show up in main tags, sorry if that resulted confusing.

I love Psycho-Pass. I already made a post about why bsd fans might find it enjoyable, but honestly, there's so much more to it beyond what it has in common with bsd.

The prompts for reflection this series offers are just wonderful: on the relationship between citizens and government, on pervasive systems, on freedom of choice and free will, on safety vs. freedom, on discrimination of minorities and creation of scapegoats, on propaganda and brainwashing, on the increasing and treacherous presence of technology in everyday life, on how government uses technology to control and manipulate people, on fighting the system from the inside vs. fighting the system from the outside. I should watch it again too. It's crazy good.

Akane Tsunemori - the coprotagonist of the first season, the protagonist of the second season and overall the true core and heart of the franchise - is one of the most complex and beautiful characters I ever met. Her growth and character development is truly amazing: the way she starts off as unknowing and naïve, and grows so so much from there; how her writing finds this perfect balance between becoming more mature / hardening and staying true to her beliefs - even when everyone, the system, the people she relies to, the people she looks up to - tell her that there's no other way, that it can't be. It's breathtaking. She is a breathtaking character. The way alone that no matter how conscious and aware she becomes of how cruel the world is, how unredeemable people are, how beyond saving the system is, she still keeps believing in humans… It may sound cliché by itself, but believe me, it's wonderfully executed, and her character is truly amazing. Not to mention, the way she mirrors the coprotagonist Kougami is fabulous, but this is not really about him; she's an amazing character of her own right, and I will die on this hill.

The female cast in general is all amazing honestly. Don't get me wrong, the male characters are just as complex and multilayered (and I LOVE Gino and Kou, how couldn't I), but that's… Something we're more accustomed to, while finding well written female characters is objectively much harder. Female characters in Psycho-Pass aren't written as female characters, they're written as people, just as much as their male counterparts are. They have their fears and hopes and strengths and weaknesses just like any other character. I love Yayoi for being strong and coolheaded. I love (LOVE) Shion for being her fabulous self, kind and flirty and confident and with an heart so big, and for her subverting the trope of guy in the chair by being a glamorous woman who's also incredibly competent at her job of analyst. I love Akane's friends and I don't like season 3 but Mai is genuinely awesome and a joy every time she's on screen. I love Risa so much I could die, I love how strong and independent she is, I love the dilemmas she had to face, I love her choices and how they might have been the wrong ones and how it still haunts her, I love the tragedy of her character in general, I love the doomed friendship that used to be between her Gino and Kou. I love love love Fredrica, I love her being bossy and confident, diligent and determined. There's just a lot of… Strong and independent women in Psycho-Pass, and it's not just a way of saying, they really are.

I LOVE women loving other women, canonly, on screen. The confirmation may be delegated to a small moment in the last episode of the first season, but the fact that it's still there nonetheless, and how it confirms that all the previous moments and exchanges were indeed moments and didn't leave it to ambiguity… It's nice, to say that the first season of Psycho-Pass came out in 2012. And you might have to wait eight years, three seasons, five movies for it, but the phrase “I just want to go outside, dine somewhere nice, and go for walks with someone I love” may make it worth it.

And I LOVE how all the leader positions are filled by women. It's a little funny, honestly, in the best way– despite what I made it look like so far, the Psycho-Pass cast is still men-dominated (or at least a pretty equally split 50/50?); yet all the leader positions are always filled by women: Akane and Mika and Kasei and Frederica and Karina, it's always women.

Also, Mika is a brilliant character. Of course I love her. I'm so so sorry for how much hate and criticism she gets (over being a purposely annoying character! Insane! When Dazai exists!), when she does really and excellent job at conveying “look! A fucked up brainwashed individual in a fucked up brainwashing environment! I wonder how that could have happened!”. Not to mention that her growth, her long and devious way to admitting that the system is flawed, is truly well made, too. Unpopular opinion, characters with big flaws, characters who are unsufferable and make lives impossible to everyone around them, characters who mess up again and again, are actually great to watch.

Again, don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore Gino and Kou too ahah. They're both great!! But that you can probably see by your own. Gino in particular used to be my favourite, how his character does a total 180° turn. I love to see men admit their mistakes and make the choice to be better tomorrow.

About that, the relationships between the characters are AMAZING. Especially the main trio Akane / Kou / Gino, all the combinations within it are beautiful and deep and brilliant, so so enjoyable to explore and with their fair share of canon content, while still never straying to romantic territory (I mean, Akane/Kou may be going in that direction, but if that's true, that's the slowest slow burn I've ever witnessed in my life).

What's more. The world building / general premise - a dystopian world, where your predisposition to do crime can be measured and the government makes use of such technology to monitor and control the population and guarantee everyone's safety - is genuinely interesting and compelling. The aesthetic is genuinely cool (AH, now that I think about it, I've got my unfair bias for people in suits, and pp has a LOT of people in suits… ). The opening and endings feature great artists like Egoist, Ryo, Who-ya Extended and Cö shu Nie, so you're sure to love them!!

(Also, Psycho-Pass is something I used to spend entire nights talking about with a friend, and I'm always thinking about her and hold her tight to my heart in every moment so. That's worth mentioning for me, pfffttt. I love my friend so much.)

Finally, because the other Psycho-Pass post I made here keeps haunting me for the lack of trigger warnings, please be aware: Psycho-Pass DOES have trigger warnings. Pretty much for eveything you can think of. Sexual assault and gore and body horror on the top of my mind, but it's quite dark and gritty at parts in its entirety, so please please keep that in mind if you decide to pick it up.

Well, this is the end of my Psycho-Pass love letter for now. Please give it a chance if you can! I'll go rewatch it now. General watch order, in order of release, is season 1 → season 2 → movie → Sinners of the System movie trilogy → season 3 → First Inspector movie → Providence movie. I don't really like the third season or First Inspector movie (the characters are still great tho, even the newly introduced ones), and I've yet to watch Providence. The first season later came out with an extended edition of added scenes between episodes, and they're quite nice, so if you can't get ahold of it, you might want to look up for a compilation of the missing scenes still.

[melto]

something just like snapped in the back of my head like i Need to go like curl up in my room for like 5 days and play video games and not speak to like anyone

[micwrs]

rotating akechi in my brain so hard

im afraid to try my hand at actually writing him but oh he is in my head. he's crazy. im crazy. and i would let him take my hand and lead me into the depths of our shared craziness

i diagnose him with bpd and he's in love with yet despises the phantoms

[worldofgoo]

tumblr was fun... though the majority of my connections are now outside of it and ive accepted that in life countless people you never really got to meet will fly by you, i guess i can still be sentimental about what it was for me as i matured and learned about the world and other people

[screampied]

Wait…

Using a vibrator on Choso??? Need this… so bad… 😫

Listened to an audio like this and it gave me the idea

Need a vibrator on his 🍆 asap 🙏 🙏

May vegas, goddess of smut, answer my prayers 🙏

using a vibrator on choso ★

warnings. fem! reader, praise, toy usage, ōrgasm control, whiney choso, mdni.

“y- you wanna use that?” choso gulps with an almost chagrined grin. he didn’t exactly mind, especially whenever you wanted to try new things with him underneath the sheets. you’d just gotten done from riding him and he’s catching a few breaths whilst in the midst of speaking to you. with sable irises pooling into you, he then sighs, “how would you even do it? aren’t you supposed to um rub it against there?”

as he says that, his eyes avert right between your legs before he sits against your lap. his head lowers itself back while he gets comfortable, a low huff withdrawing from his rosé-colored lips.

“like how you use it on me,” you hum, picking up the wireless wand. slender finds of yours wrap around it before swiping a thumb against the button to power it on. he stares in awe, gazing at how it’s on the lowest level. choso inhales shortly afterwards, hearing the tumultuous bzzzzing of the toy, pulses of his heart steadily racing. “i’ll just rub it against your tip. can i do that, baby?”

“y-yes,” he nods immediately, sprawling out his legs a bit. the way he instantly responds was so cute—practically cutting you off, barely giving you a chance to finish your words. if it’s with you, he’d never mind. your touch, choso’s ultimate weakness. out of the countless enemies he’s been in combat with, the simplicity of your touch was his far worst enemy he’d never win a match with. with hitched breaths, strands of his ponytails tickling against your skin, he whines. “use it on me, baby. please, just- just hold my hand, ‘kay?”

you hum in response, intertwining your fingers with his as he relaxes against your chest.

“okay, cho,” and your voice was so smooth. he could listen to it all day, the sweetness underneath it had his heart swooning every time you spoke. he’s breathing softly, awaiting for you to do what you spoke. you’re slow, delicately hovering the vibrator before making it graze gently against his tip. immediately, he lets off a whimper.

the vibrations, it’s enough to make his teeth shatter. his whines, even something as simple as his whines was so mellifluous. a tune you’d never want to stop listening to. “how’s it feel baby?”

“f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum already,” he swallows, you’re barely placing the toy over his cockhead and he’s already a mess. the best way to describe it was that it tickled. he couldn’t help but wonder, whenever you used these things on yourself, did you feel like this too? choso swallows an imaginary creeping lump that’s stuck against the roof of his mouth before he starts to quaver. he’s so cute—within seconds, he was already so vocal. he bites down on his lip before another free hand of his squeezes your inner thigh. “hah, i-it feels good. feels really good, princess.”

you simper to yourself, pressing a kiss near the crown of his head. in a gingerly circular motion, you start to move the vibrator all around his cock. he’s a mess, you’re doing nothing but sending choso into straight convulsions.

“so whiny,” you tease, and he’s always been one to be dramatic with his whines and whimpers but he couldn’t help it. this entire new feeling, it was euphoric. you start to tease a bit further, leaning in to kiss the long slope of choso’s neck. he was gonna melt into your hands. you had him right where you wanted him. “you’re doing so good, baby. hold my hand. i got you.”

“t- turn it up a level please.” he mewls out, darkened brows compressing into a firm furrow. his pouty expression only grows, glancing down at his leaky tip that was smothered with pre-cum.

you inch the toy away from his shaft, kissing more down his neck to hear him moan. his entire body, it was frigid and cold— yet the moment your lips paint against his skin like an empty canvas, he’s suddenly hot everywhere.

“another level, choso? you can handle that?” and oh, your words were so sly and salacious. the particular tone that you spoke, you were gonna be the death of him entirely,

“y-yes, i can take another notch. please just, f-fuck me, feels good. make me feel so good,” and his babbles were adorable. continuously, choso swallows, strained breaths pulling out of his full lungs before he bites his lip—this time, harder. “god, i need it so bad. n-need you, only you c-can make me feel this good, baby.”

“mmm that’s right, ‘cho,” you pepper a plethora of more chaste kisses down his neck. he moans from more of your touch.

he had highly sensitive skin, he craves your lips more than anything. especially whenever you’d be an even bigger tease, nipping a few bites towards his precious collarbone. with a thumb, you press the button to go up a higher level and he starts whining louder. you run the front part of the hitachi all around his throbbing head, near the peeling part of his frenulum and he’s losing it. choso’s mouth dangles opens, only the sounds of sweet whimpers leaving . . nothing else. “you’re such a good boy, my good boy right?”

once he hears those words— his heart flutters, with shaky lips, he moans out a sweet, “all yours, ‘m your g-good boy, fuuuck,” and the grip he has against your hand squeezes much tighter. a thumb of his brushes against your palm before he’s almost going limp against your chest. “not gonna l-last. ‘m gonna cum, can— may i cum? don’t wanna make a mess unless y-you say it’s okay, princess. ‘m not a messy boy.”

“but you are a messy boy, silly,” you tease, starting to suck near the center crevices of his neck. he was so weak for you.

the friction—it was merely worthy enough to make his teeth shatter.

choso’s panting accelerates and his legs start to jitter at a rapid speed. “you wanna cum, baby? wanna make a mess for me ‘n let me clean it up for you?”

his eyelids grew heavy. your lovely voice,

your voice alone was enough to make him shoot out such ropes of white. everything was a blur, his entire body overtook itself with a feverish fervor feeling. he’s so hot, clouds of breath remain to slip past his lips before he nods.

“yeah, yeah y-yeah,” and his voice is cracking. the toy’s right near the side of his dick now, then it travels its way down to his base— then back up towards his beloved head.

“oh, oh my,” he hiccups, and he really loses it once you let go of his hand to stroke him off. “baby, f-fuck, ‘m hard. so hard, gonna c-cum ‘n get your hand all dirty.”

“give it to me baby, ‘s okay.” you purr against the shell of his ear.

one hand of yours gives his cock a few solid pumps whilst another is smearing the vibrating wand against his cum-glossed tip repeatedly.

choso kisses his teeth at your words of encouragement and he feels like he’s floating. in fact, he feels like he’s soaring— it’s in a way he can’t really explain, it scratches such a good itch in his brains that the neurons stored inside couldn’t even fathom his incoming release either.

he loves whenever you stroke him, why— mainly because you always do it better than himself.

the way your hands wrap around his fat length, fisting his cock gently around your fingers. choso’s eyes start to roll back before he cums.

“f-fuck fuuuuck.” he stammers, feeling the spurts shoot out in such creamy volume. it’s so thick, some of it dribbles down from his tip and lands on your hand. still heaving heavily, he’s still slumped back against your chest before he hears you turn off the toy, tossing it aside. he’s trying to catch his breath, eyelids still droopy before he turns around to pull you into a deep, sultry kiss.

you giggle—a smile stretching against your lips as you throw an arm around him, embracing in his savory, sweet taste. he’s still all exposed, tip all sticky and leaky with seed. choso tastes sweet, sweet as in he’s been dying to taste you all day.

a tongue of his rummages through your mouth, briefly sucking on yours before he whines once he feels your hands roam. you go back to stroking him and he melts into your touch, pulling away from your lips and burying his face into your neck.

“awww,” you whisper, bringing both arms to hug him tightly. as big as he was, it was as if you were the big spoon.

he’s vigorously trembling, still sensitive from his recent release. it felt so good he didn’t know just what words to get out. as you play with the cute bows he allowed you to tie on his two ponytails, you move your head to give him a kiss on his cheek. “you did so good, baby. such a good boy.”

“i . . i want more,” he mutters, cupping both sides of your face suddenly. you stare into his eyes, almost giggling again before he presses a wet kiss on your mouth. again, and again, and again until your lips are all plump and swollen.

alas, he was serious though. whenever choso gets that instant feral look in his eyes, that’s it.

“what do you want, choso?” you hum, a thumb stroking against the minuscule bristles that reside against his structured jawline.

“you,” he whimpers, licking underneath your neck. you gnaw your bottom lip, feeling a hand of his pry its way between your legs before his head lowers. you watch, and he gets a face full view of your panties. choso pouts, sliding your underwear to the side before glancing up at you— a single soft kiss goes against your now exposed cunt before he sighs. “i’m s-so thirsty. let me make you feel good too, baby. please.”