#can i tag that? if I'm losing my mind is that sufficient?

[marketableplushieenthusiast]

I WATCHED EPISODE 3 OF DIGITAL CIRCUS AND NOW I WANT TO BLAB ABOUT CAINE SOME MORE!

Spoilers below the cut:

Every episode, I am more convinced that Caine has done nothing (intentionally) wrong, ever, in his life.

He has no tact, terrible empathy, and is barely sentient enough to carry out a conversation, let alone understand all his circus members' perspectives, but BY GOLLY he is trying his BEST-

FIRST OFF! He is an AI designed to make fun little games, originally aimed at children, and judged against that purpose? He's doing AMAZING! We all know what it looks like irl when AI is used to make games, but Caine's game dev skills are really good! His worlds are pretty to look at, the game mechanics would be fun if this were a video game, not a virtual prison, his stories are even coherent! He just made two separate routes for Middenhall Manor whose stories are actually tied together in the background! (Bro made Undertale-)

He WASN'T designed to babysit several grown adults stuck in VR round the clock for years. And EVEN SO, he's still trying to make them comfortable and give them a good experience with his limited understanding! He adapts his adventure to be easy and set in the circus for Pomni's first day! He goes out of his way to try to make something for Zooble ALONE! Judging by Kinger's flashback, the theories that Caine puts the abstracted in the cellar partially because the dark calms them is almost certainly true!

He's quite literally doing all he knows how to do.

And the biggest thing that I'm losing my mind over this episode?

Zooble complains at the start when he pulls them aside that he "never listens" or "never remembers" why they don't feel like going on the adventures. Midway through, even he seems frustrated that his brain isn't cooperating.

And then after explaining it again, Zooble is discouraged and dismisses it by saying: "Forget it..."

And Caine blinks.

"What?"

"Just forget it."

"...Forget what?"

He quite literally keeps forgetting because Zooble keeps telling him to by accident.

BECAUSE HE'S AN AI-

Love the Kinger backstory and focus, but Caine is my fav character so much, y'all, it's unreal-

[mythicmanuscripts]

BETROTHED TO JACE [ X READER]

So because of the two Jace asks I've done recently, the idea of being betrothed to a plushy very inexperienced and easy to fluster Jace has been stuck in my head so I've decided I'm just gonna babble about it here in some sort of weird mix between an imagine and a blurb.

There's no actual sex mentioned below the cut but definitely some sexual undertones and suggestive themes. And if you like what you see here, come check out the rest of my blog :))

I already have a whole blurb taking about inexperienced Jace so I'm not gonna spend too much time on that, but feel free to search my Jace tag if you want to see that.

Anyway, it's sufficient to just say that Jacaerys made a point to not do more than hold hands with a woman until he is married, both because he wanted to show utmost respect to his future wife and also because he just didnt like the idea of doing all those things with someone he didnt love?

So when you are promised to Jace and you meet him for the first time, he's SO nervous. The first time you speak with him, he can't even meet your eye. He's just in a constant state of shock and awe that not only is he now betrothed but he's betrothed to someone he finds so so attractive and seems so sweet and knows exactly what to say and someone grab a chair the poor lad is gonna faint.

He's a little better the second time you speak with him, this time he manages a full conversation without spilling his cup of wine all over the table, so he would call that a success. You really start to see his personality, to see how sweet and kind he is and you realise how all his quietness and shyness is really just him being so so desperate to make a good impression and make you happy with him.

From your third meeting onwards, you make it your mission to see just how flustered you can make him. You can tell he likes you, and how he very clearly wants to do more than just talk but he's far too much of a gentleman to do that.

You start out really simple, just giving him a little peck on the cheek as a greeting. And well... he blushed a deep red and stumbled over his words, trying to find a way to say thank you and that he enjoyed that and ending up just sounding like he lost the English language for a minute.

So naturally you give him more pecks every time you two are alone and every single time he blushes and thanks you. One day he even manages to ask if he can give you a peck back. When you agree, his smile lasts the rest of the day.

As the wedding date gets closer and closer, you and Jace spend more time together and of course he is the perfect gentleman. But, he's also losing his mind because you keep on giving him soft kisses and calling him handsome and one time you even gave his hair a little tug and Jace wants more so bad but he would never ever ask for that before the wedding.

So instead, Jace spends entire evenings talking with you, getting comfortable with giving you soft slow kisses and being so sad when it's time to sneak back to his chambers because he immediately misses you.

For the very last dinner before the wedding, you and Jace are seated opposite each other. Every now and then you touch Jace's leg with your foot, even on his thigh. Jace chokes on his wine. You keep it up the entire dinner, and then retire to your chambers before Jace leaves the table.

You don't expect to see him again until the wedding the next day, but to your surprise someone knocks on your door a few hours later and it's Jace. You're confused, asking him what's going on and he kinda just... kisses you with so much passion and it's so messy and he's whining into your mouth and your teeth clash and when you pull away, his pupils are blown and he's mumbling pleas, whining and throwing his head back and saying he can't take any more of this teasing and he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Which... that's the most attractive thing you've ever seen. The poor thing has just been so flustered for so long and he has no idea what to do with himself anymore and so here he is, in his betrothed chambers the night before the wedding with a tent in his breeches and begging for something, anything.

You don't have sex that night, but you do help Jace and well... you have to make him bite down on a pillow eventually because he's so loud you genuinely worry that others might hear him.

[inaconstantstateofchange]

don't come crying - a young!Raphael fic

An incredible rendition of young!Raphael by @shahs1221, here: please go check her out and give her some well-deserved adoration for it!

A/N: I'm gonna be so honest, I have no idea how to tag this in a comprehensible way, relationship-wise. Suffice to say, the Mephisto-lovers are... probably going to appreciate this more than I wish you would, and if you too are fifty leagues down the Niche Forgotten Realms Characters™ rabbit hole, you may also be enticed by the Baalphegor inclusion. 18+, please and thank you.

Summary:

Raphael blinks, attempting to reason past the howling fury within him. He has never before felt so truly attuned to his more fiendish instincts, working in concert with his mortal ones in a truly dangerous storm. He swore when he first came to this wretched plane that he would be its master one day, and he’ll be damned – well and truly – if he fails here. Or: Centuries prior to the events of the game, Raphael's return from a routine fetch quest on Mephistopheles's orders is interrupted by a summons to the throne room. His father has a lesson to impart to him, and he's going to ensure it sticks.

This is part of an ongoing story I've had in the back of my mind for several weeks now. Rather than another WIP longfic, I'll be posting additional segments from this 'verse in a series if/when I add more. If @sky-kiss has any say in it, I'm sure I will.

The only background info you really need is:

All characters are drawn from actual Forgotten Realms lore.

Raphael has recently been plucked from the Material Plane to join his father's court on Cania, in the Nine Hells.

Due to Raphael's stunted development, and an unwillingness to be shamed by his spawn's weakness, Mephistopheles has placed Raphael under the purview of his consort, Baalphegor.

Baalphegor's body is able to produce an empowering draught, too weak to hold much significance to true fiends, but sufficient to bolster Raphael's growth.

Finally, it is a pet headcanon I've incorporated into this 'verse that Baalphegor is the same individual later know as Haarlep, but you are welcome to use your own interpretation.

Raphael stumbles through the extravagant entrance doors to Mephistar, the flesh-shearing winds of Cania grabbing after him as he ducks behind the solid, enchanted stone. He’s done his best to cover all exposed skin, but there is always some that escapes his notice, leaving him bleeding out strength he can ill afford to lose. He loathes these “errands” his father sends him on, tasks purported to test his skill, devotion, and cunning. In reality, it feels more like busywork designed to keep him weak and subservient, reminding him of his contentious existence in the hierarchy and reinforcing his dependence on his father’s dubious goodwill.

The desiccated parchment that proved the focus of this most recent quest crinkles slightly, as he shifts his gaze up, the slight sound echoing across the cavernous hall as he looks with certainty for the being he knows to be waiting for his return, just as always. But — they’re not there.

He furrows his brow, an agitated and disquieting anger growing within his gut. He strides across the marble floor on frostbitten feet he can barely feel, shoving the parchment at the lone figure of Mephistopheles’s chamberlain Barbas, standing at attention at his post, and wearing his habitual sneer as he looks down at Raphael. Raphael ignores it for now, as ever, but files the snub away with all the other insults he will one day be strong enough to return tenfold.

“Where is m—the Lady Baalphegor?” He demands imperiously. They are almost always waiting for him upon his return to bestow his reward. That is the deal, the entire reason he engages in these banal fetch quests even though they are entirely beneath his rank and status. He pushes sharply at the errant thought of the pretty fiction it makes, knowing all the while that his true choice is to bow to his father’s whims or perish. True or not, it does no good to dwell on such matters, not when he will be changing them just as soon as he can manage.

Barbas’s sneer gouges even deeper into his face, growing a biting and nearly gleeful edge as he answers Raphael, “Well, young lord, as your august presence must surely have ascertained, the Lady is certainly not here.”

Raphael can feel his face going blotchy and red, and curses his mortal heritage once again for its constant betrayals. The ice-blue crystals in the eye sockets of the chamberlain harden and glint with glee at the sight. Raphael spins on his heel, marching furiously away, the parchment crumpling further within his fist. Barbas’s mocking voice rings out behind him, “Don’t forget to report to His Grace, little lord! He insisted it be done immediately upon your return.”

Raphael almost turns again to berate him, but manages to stop himself at the last moment, lest he lose even more face from the encounter. He’ll make his report as quickly as possible, then hunt down his wayward… Baalphegor, and claim his rightful recompense. The brilliant halls of Mephistar blur around him as he storms through them, focusing only on making his way to his father’s great hall with haste.

He doesn’t wait to be announced, merely pushes firmly on the doors, both with his physical form and, in a manner only recently attained, with the lashings of his own metaphysical aspect. They creak open, the sound like distant screams even on the well-kept mechanisms, and he steps through without hesitation, words of complaint already springing to his lips, when he stops dead in his tracks.

He’s found Baalphegor.

The succubus – and they are in full succubus form in this moment – is perched indolently on his father’s lap, where he sits on his ostentatious throne. But not just perched, no — impaled, as he finds when, with stricken eyes, he watches them move their body in a smooth, undulating motion up, degree by degree, before dropping back down, brilliant hair falling around them and catching the flickering hellfire-light as it glints off their red-brown skin. Soft, melodious moans are driven from their throat with each movement, as if pushed out by the — by the member within them. Their round breasts shift with the motion, the revitalizing milk within them welling up and dripping down their chest, squandered and disregarded.

He swallows, throat dry, his eyes and chest burning in stark opposition with one another.

His father casts an apathetic glance across the hall, and his eyes alight on Raphael, a cruel smirk curling at his lips. “Ah, the returning triumphant! What have you brought me this time?” His voice is nothing but mocking, no attempt made to couch his disregard for his unwanted and unloved spawn.

Raphael blinks, attempting to reason past the howling fury within him. He has never before felt so truly attuned to his more fiendish instincts, working in concert with his mortal ones in a truly dangerous storm. Everything within him is raging at the broken contract, even as it boils with jealousy at the manhandling of something that is his, and it is only the barest dregs of his staunch self-preservation that manage to keep him from attempting something truly foolish. He swore when he first came to this wretched plane that he would be its master one day, and he’ll be damned – well and truly – if he fails here.

He holds the parchment, now looking rather worse for wear, out before him on a finely trembling hand. He searches for the words he needs in a mind nearly whited out by rage.

“I… your cult in Waterdeep sends their obeisance, y–your Grace.” He curses his tongue for its fumbling, driving home further how well his father’s ploy is working to discomfit him.

“Oh,” Mephistopheles waves a careless hand. “That collection of rabble. You will leave it with my steward.”

Raphael ducks his head a bare inch, keeping his eyes away from Baalphegor as much as he can, and turns to leave.

His father’s voice rings out after him before he has completed even half his turn, sharpening with the first warning edges of his infamous temper. “Where do you think you are going, whelp? You have not yet been dismissed.”

Raphael turns back to face him, slow and careful, as the true danger of the situation sets in. He has rarely found himself in the presence of his father when these moods strike, and never without at least the tenuous support of Baalphegor behind him. And yet… he meets their gaze now, searching, and the barest fraction desperate, but there is nothing. Their red eyes meet his without flinching, cold as Cania’s glaciers. Trickles of the subtly shimmering draught spilling from their breasts have reached down to their hips now, soaking into the thatch of hair between their legs.

He tears his eyes away and forces his attention back to the far greater threat, scrambling for an answer that will satisfy his father.

“My apologies, your Grace.” The epithet comes easier this time, its passage eased by his awareness of his own precarious position. “I misunderstood your direction, and wished only to carry out your will with utmost alacrity.”

Mephistopheles rests his chin insouciantly on his hand, elbow propped against the arm of his throne. His voice, when he speaks, is sardonic and shows no signs of the ongoing actions of the succubus on his lap. “Oh very nicely salvaged, whelp. My wishes, however, are for you to remain just where you are, and appreciate the lesson I’ve prepared for you.”

Raphael swallows, the boiling heat within him growing fiercer, rage intertwined with other, less-savory feelings.

With little warning, Mephistopheles moves his hand to entangle within Baalphegor’s tresses, pulling the succubus fiercely down onto him as he wrenches their head back against his shoulder. A tremulous cry breaks from their throat, and Raphael only barely keeps himself from starting forward at the sound.

Mephistopheles brings his free hand forward and toys with Baalphegor’s breasts, pushed forward into the air from their current position. He twists pitilessly at them, prompting yet more cries as the liquid inside spills out in greater quantities, splashing, wasted, against the smooth skin of Baalphegor’s stomach. It runs in rivulets onto the throne, and down, to collect into puddles on the floor of the grand hall.

Raphael feels his stomach turn even as his mouth, well-trained by association, waters, unhindered by every other horrible aspect of this waking nightmare.

Mephistopheles wipes his hand dismissively on Baalphegor’s hair, leaving behind silvery streaks, then draws them up by their hair and hip, beginning to move within them in earnest as he continues his reproach. Raphael wants to close his eyes, his ears, every one of his senses, but knows such an admission of weakness would be worse than his undoing.

“You’ve prevailed enough upon my largess, and I am no longer willing to indulge your weakness.” Mephistopheles sneers. “You’ve proven more fortunate than any other cambion within the Hells, but from now on you will make your own way, or fail. Such is the way of Baator.”

The fires around the hall burn fiercer in alignment with their lord as he looks down at his unloved progeny. “Should you find yourself desperate for one last taste to stay your appetites, however, you may lap it from the floor like the whelp you are, and thank me for the concession.”

Raphael feels like he is become hellfire himself, the hatred he knew within him for his progenitor stoked to dizzyingly fierce new heights. Jaw aching with the effort of withholding the flood of vitriol within him, he grits out, “My thanks for your… beneficence. I would not dream of prevailing upon it further.”

Mephistopheles snorts, dismissive, then turns his attentions back to Baalphegor, by all accounts having forgotten Raphael’s entire existence.

Raphael stands, Baalphegor’s unfeeling eyes burning into his, until he is finally – finally – dismissed. All the while, the ambitions within him, already cast in carbon, are pressurized further and further, until they are as fearsome diamond, reflecting the blood and fire around him.

He will not remain his father’s lesser for long. He will see him deposed, and make him suffer for these indignities heaped upon his person.

By Asmodeus, he swears it.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Level 8000 (Gavi x Reader)

28 day writing prompt challenge - prompts are here

Day 6: Meeting for the first time

"Alright I'm going to get onto an online server. No one try to reach me for the next several hours."

Your roommates laughed at the warning as you slipped your headset on. You adjusted the ears, bringing the mic over your mouth, and settled back into the couch. Your hoodie and sweats swamped your form, providing maximum comfort for your gaming session. Were you a fantastic gamer? No. But had you fixated on two or three games for long enough to get good at specifically those games? Yes, yes you did. One of those games was FIFA. You had played all the events throughout the World Cup, in between the early morning matches, and late at night when your 7pm Redbull kept you up until the early hours.

This binge playing over your winter break, as well as the game events, lead to you having a crazy stacked team. You had a super high Neymar as your front man, meaning that as long as you got the ball in the last 1/3 of the field, you were almost guaranteed to score. When all your real life friends had grown tired of you winning 7-0, you turned to PS online. People on the internet were ruthless. You played against stacked teams, losing your first dozen matches. But as you practiced and upgraded your players (as well as googling some good team formations), you started to win. Your win-loss ratio improved immensely with the addition of one piece of equipment: headphones with a mic. You started to join the voice chat, and the sound of a woman sent these poor gamer boys into a frenzy, allowing you to score two goals before they could recover.

Now it was your escape. You loved the power of overwhelming men just by saying "good luck", and the profanities that followed when you won. Tonight was no different. You had already beaten four different whiny men, and had tied a game with another girl on the voice chat, who practically squealed with delight when she heard the sound of your voice. Now it was time for match number 6 of the night, and you were sufficiently warmed up, ready to destroy.

[Opponent] - 6avira30

You smiled, thinking to yourself 'Awe, a Gavi fanboy. I wonder if he has him in midfield." The audio connected, and you heard a couple different male voices yell at each other in Spanish.

"Hello?" You said softly into the mic. Couldn't have them think you were anything other than a soft uwu girl using her boyfriend's account. The voices stopped suddenly, with a long pause before the reply: "Are you a girl?" You laughed at the question. It was not the first time you had gotten it, but the utter confusion in the boy's voice caught you off guard. "Yeah, I am. Hurry up and lock in your team so we can start the match." "Ay, be patient. My great strategic mind needs time to work."

You groaned into the mic. These "strategists" often were the most annoying people to play with, and often the one calling you a cheater or a bot or saying that your "man" was playing while you were on the mic. You locked in the same team you always used, and waited for the great mastermind to lock in his squad. The match began a minute later, and you were not surprised to see it was mostly Barca players, old and new.

"Wow a Xavi-Iniesta midfield. It's been a minute since I've seen that." You said, trying to get the ball across the center line.

"They're the best duo in the world. Everyone should have them in the middle." The boy replied, harshly attacking all your midfielders. It had been a while since you encountered someone who played this aggressively, but it was interesting enough to get you to sit up straight.

"Really? Given your tag, I thought you would have Pedri and Gavi in the middle."

The boy got quiet at this, the statement clearly catching him off guard. It was the lapse in focus that you needed, getting the ball to your super-charged Neymar, and slamming a goal in from outside the box.

"What the actual fuck was that?" A yell came in from the other side. You laughed freely now. This was a fun match. You were being challenged in the middle of the field, really having your defense tested. The boy kept you entertained online, asking all the typical questions about how you got so good. The match ended 3-1 to you, and you were about to say goodbye when a notification popped up on your screen.

[6avira30] - Rematch Requested

"You want to play against me again? One loss wasn't enough?"

"I'm not going to lose again. I just have to recalibrate the squad."

You continued playing against the same opponent for 7 or 8 matches in a row, the conversation moving from the game to your lives.

"So you've never been to a football match in person? How is that possible? You live in Barcelona!"

"I'm a university student who is struggling to pay my rent. I don't have the time or money to buy tickets. Well, at least the tickets that I want."

"Well, what tickets do you want?"

"I want the ones that are right up on the field, so at the end of the game I can ask Lewy for his shirt at the end?"

"Lewandowski? Not one of the younger players?"

"Nah, everyone is always yelling for Gavi's shirt. And while it would be nice to see Gavi or Pedri shirtless, I feel like if I was ever lucky enough to get one of their shirts, my life would be in danger. So I would rather get a shift from DILF Lewy."

A loud laugh came in through your headphones. The boy yelled at his friend in the room, "She just called Robert a DILF."

At the end of the match (a 2-1 win for you), it was time to log off. You informed your online partner, bidding him a good night.

"Wait wait, before you get off, could you send your number in the chat? It's fine if not but I'd really like to talk to you again."

"My number? Why not just my Instagram?"

"I... Can't really follow you on Instagram. It's kind of complicated."

You sent him your number and logged off, going to bed with a stupid smile on your face. A boy had asked for your number. Could he be a weirdo in his mom's basement? Absolutely. But you could find that out later.

You woke up to a text that read: Hope you slept well - Lindo from PS Live. The stupid smile stuck to your face all day. For the next two weeks, you texted this boy almost every waking moment. You could not get enough of him, despite the fact that you couldn't get him to tell you his name.

[PS Live Boy]: Want to have coffee with me tomorrow?

The text set the butterflies in your stomach free, the fluttering feeling spreading to every cell in your body. You has said yes embarrassingly fast. He texted you the location: a pretty upscale coffee shop in the shopping district. Like 17 euro black coffee upscale. You now jumped up and down like a giddy school girl - PS Live boy had money.

You walked into the place, the hostess looking over your skirt and sweater with a sickly sweet smile, asking who you were supposed to be there with. PS Live boy had left the table under your name as to maintain his shroud of mystery. You sat at the table, reapplying your lip gloss and checking your hair in the camera of your phone.

[PS Live boy]: you can't freak out when you see me

[PS Live boy]: Because then I would have to leave and block your number

[PS Live boy]: and file a restraining order. and i dont want to do that

You let out a nervous breath, smiling at your screen. Usually when men said not to freak out, it was because they were ugly. The hostess that didn’t like you walked over to the table again, closely followed by someone in a hoodie, hood pulled up to cover their face. She pulled out a chair, and your PS Live boy sat in front of you. He thanked the hostess, before turning back you you and pulling his hood off.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Gavi looked at you with a cheeky smile playing on his lips. You were overwhelmed. Pablo mf Gavi had met you on PS live and liked you, asked for you number, and was now here on a date with you.

“Three weeks of being mysterious was worth the look on your face.”

“As Spain’s youngest player on the national team, how are you so shit at FIFA?”

“Okay okay okay, let’s go back to you being surprised and not talk about me getting my ass kicked 8 times in a row. Pedri still makes fun of me?”

“Dang Pedri was there? I should’ve asked for his number instead.”

“You have me leveled up to like 8000 in FIFA. I know you want to be here with me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: this was supposed to be done last night but I fell asleep lol. I love the idea of Gavi being kinda cheeky and self confident. Most talented young boys are (because society inflates their egos). Anyways, see y’all later tonight w day 7!!

[flamebringer0]

More About Nightwing Powers

I decided I had more to say about this post, so I reblogged it and wrote some more. It seems like when you do that Tumblr doesn't put the post into tag searches, so nobody can actually find it. I'm just going to copy the full text into a new post. I'm sorry if this spams anyone's feed, I just don't understand how this site works yet. I've never actually had a blog before.

-----

Ohhhh damn I just had another thought about this. This is my problem, I think about this stuff all the time and I keep coming up with new things I think are cool, but now that I've written all this out and published it for the whole world to see I can't change it so easily.

It's actually fine though. These thoughts are kind of a mix of things I think are canon but sufficiently non-obvious to be worth stating (All Nightwings have powers at hatching and then lose them), things that are definitely not canon but I feel like it doesn't mess with the story too much to change them (Prophets have a silver scale on their foreheads), and things that are ambiguous and I'm just filling in the blanks (fake Nightwing magic is based on their sense of smell). But there's a fourth category, which is things that I don't like about canon but changing them would basically entail writing a whole new story. I'm pretty sure this new idea falls into the latter category, so I wouldn't really have put it in that post anyway.

But let's explore the hypothesis that Tui T Sutherland and Scholastic collectively lose their minds and give me the rights to Wings of Fire, and also I have infinite time, resources and motivation to make my own adaptation of the story. Then what happens? Well, the first thing is obviously to change animus magic to be something other than total omnipotence, because omnipotent characters are the kind of albatross (tee hee) you don't want around your neck when you're trying to write a coherent story. And the second thing is to make it so the terrible Rainwing queens in book 3 are hereditary royalty and Glory is not, because I've never liked the valorisation of hereditary royalty in WOF (or in general), and that would be an easy way to subvert that. And THEN I would turn scavengers into lizard people, because I am a furry and I think that's cuter than making them humans. Lol.

But somewhere down the list would be the fact that I don't actually vibe with the idea that normal Nightwing seers/mind readers apparently have a built-in power limiter that varies randomly according to the specific individual, and the special gift you get for hatching under three moons is just to have that limiter set to 0. I don't like this because, first of all, the fact that it works like that just doesn't fit into my brain in a satisfactory way. Hatching under zero, one, or two full moons each results in a qualitatively different outcome, so in my mind, the third full moon should also do something qualitatively different. But it doesn't, it's just the same as two full moons but better. And then I'm left to assume that there are probably very rare cases of twice-moonborn Nightwings who have all the power, just because whatever secondary factors there are happened to line up in their favor? Weird.

But the more important reason is, I don't really like the idea of Clearsight as someone who has extraordinary power because she just hatched that way. Nor do I like the fact that the reasons for this are, on the one talon, unexplained (maybe inexplicable?), and on the other, not a function of who she is as a character. I think it would make for a much stronger motif if run-of-the-mill seer Clearsight were able to take down once-in-a-generation chosen one Darkstalker because she's diligent and doesn't believe in destiny while he's entitled and sure of his glorious future. At its core this feeling is actually the same thing as what I said about the Rainwing queens above: I just don't find it satisfying when the hero has some kind of special trait that makes them naturally better than everyone else. A villain can have that, but a hero I want to prove themselves through their own efforts. But that's explicitly not what happened in canon: Clearsight IS naturally more powerful than all the other seers, that's an essential part of her story, and changing it requires basically rewriting the books. I don't love it!

So anyway in the universe where I'm rewriting the books, here's a thought about how Nightwing powers might work. This partially contradicts what I wrote above, but I've decided I'm cool with that. I love contradicting myself actually, and maybe next week I'll contradict all of this again. There are no laws.

Some Nightwings are seers, some are mind readers, a few are both, and most are neither. But aside from the fact that an individual might or might not have these powers, they don't vary in strength from dragon to dragon. All seers have equally strong abilities, and all mind readers have equally strong abilities. But the strength of the abilities does vary: not per individual, but over time. Specifically, the current state of the moons affects the abilities of empowered Nightwings. On a hypothetical "darkest night" with three new moons, all Nightwings are effectively powerless. On the brightest night, empowered Nightwings experience the full strength of their abilities. Seers can easily look down many different paths into the distant future, and mind readers can easily examine any information in the mind of another dragon. Of course, the phases of the three moons are not synchronous. Most of the time, the moons are all in different states, and empowered Nightwings experience abilities somewhere in between those extremes.

Above, I said that the "strength" of Nightwing abilities doesn't really vary per dragon. Strength, as I use the term here, only refers to the raw potential to look into the future or into another dragon's mind. But different individuals do have different levels of adeptness when it comes to applying their abilities. On the brightest night, any seer can look with relative ease into the far future, down multiple timelines, examining subtle ripples of possibility. The rest of the time, most seers can't use their abilities on that level, but a particularly adept one can get closer. What makes one seer more adept than another? Well, it's really just training. If you're someone who, for whatever reason, keeps looking into the future, over time you'll get better at it, just like anything you keep doing. This is what sets Clearsight apart from her peers. She isn't more blessed by the moons than them, because no seer is more blessed by the moons than any other. Clearsight just looks into the future all the time, to a degree nobody else does. She works harder on her visions than any other seer, so her abilities are more advanced than those of any other seer.

There is one exception to the maxim "no seer is more blessed by the moons than any other". The special gift of the thrice-moonborn is that they are exempt from the cyclical waning and waxing of power with the phases of the moons. They hatch on the brightest night, and its power soaks into them and becomes permanently part of them. And so, they live as if every night is a brightest night. They always have the potential to see the ripples that spread into many distant futures, and they can always pluck any information they want out of another dragon's mind. What other Nightwings may train and train for, these dragons do as easily as they breathe.

There are few Nightwings who never dreamed as dragonets about what it would be like to have hatched under three full moons. How different their lives could have been from those of the common powerless Nightwing, or even ordinary seers and mind readers! And not just directly because of what they could see: the thrice-moonborn are almost inevitably beloved by their tribe, showered with attention, and elevated to the highest strata of society. Wouldn't that be nice, think the dragons who could have walked that path but for something as meaningless as the sky under which they hatched.

It's unsurprising that many covet that life, but it's not entirely as pleasant as they imagine. The adulation that surrounds the most powerful Nightwings is instrumental. As laid out in excruciating detail just behind the eyes of smiling dragons, few love them for who they are; many more love them for what they are. They will never have any interaction with friends or family that isn't fundamentally shaped by the asymmetrical power dynamic implied by their abilities. It's easy for a dragon in that situation to become profoundly isolated, especially without support. But the brightest night comes so rarely that most Nightwings who receive its gift will grow up with neither peers, nor mentors who can relate to these experiences. That many ultimately respond in unhealthy, self-destructive ways is a given; that the self-destruction of such powerful dragons often also destroys those around them is a recurring tragedy in the history of the tribe.

But it's not inevitable. No dragon's fate is actually written in the stars or sealed by the moons. It's always possible to choose a different future.

[tacticalhimbo]

I posted 2,034 times in 2022

That's 156 more posts than 2021!

550 posts created (27%)

1,484 posts reblogged (73%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@bor-ous

@markproksch

@hater-of-terfs

@ollierachnid

@tonysopranobignaturals

I tagged 1,601 of my posts in 2022

Only 21% of my posts had no tags

#txt - 574 posts

#important - 343 posts

#save for later - 90 posts

#pic - 77 posts

#comfort - 72 posts

#my ocs - 57 posts

#long post - 39 posts

#cw discourse - 38 posts

#my art - 34 posts

#fave - 33 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#still in between whether i wanna do social work/case management or do therapeutic stuff but i can go either way from where i'm sitting atm-

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

[ DO NOT STEAL/REPOST. REBLOGS APPRECIATED. ]

I'm a simple man. I see trans* character, I immediately fall in love and must draw them.

Anyway, Claire is one of the best side characters and I will not take criticism 😌💕

91 notes - Posted January 27, 2022

#4

Y'ALL LOOK AT THIS—

Thread by Alejandra Caraballo on Twitter. Link in post source; CW/TW for reposted transphobic rhetoric in the original thread!

A trans woman posted about working with her doctor and a lactation consultant to breastfeed her and her partner's baby by following the widely used and respected Newman-Goldfarb protocol to induce lactation. T//ERF's proceed to lose their minds and fail basic biology.

The New York Times covered this in 2018. It is not novel and is only newer to the medical literature. (Side Note: I wasn't even aware of this in 2018, hence me resharing it now for those in a similar boat)

Here's a highlight from the NYT article:

When a transgender woman told doctors at the Mount Sinai Hospital that she wanted to breast feed her pregnant partner's baby, they put her on a regimen of drugs that included an anti-nausea medication licensed in Britain and Canada but banned in the United States. Within a month, according to the journal of Transgender Health, the woman was producing droplets of milk.

With three months - two weeks before the baby's due date - she had increased her production to eight ounces of milk a day.

In the end, the study showed, "she was able to achieve sufficient breast milk volume to be the sole source of nourishment for her child for six weeks," according to the journal.

95 notes - Posted May 18, 2022

#3

Gary Miller: RAIN. OF. SPIDERS. (spiders! spiders! spiders!)

John, trying to exorcise him:

238 notes - Posted October 25, 2022

#2

Obsessed w/ his eyes... 😫

273 notes - Posted November 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

[ source ]

going to be a bit more serious on the dash, so i'll be trying to uplift some voices now that initial celebrations have been made.

2,516 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[noxtivagus]

happy weekend ! 🤍 ( technically pulled an all-nighter but i have newfound energy for some reason ) 🥹

[buckybarnesdiaries]

a piece of cake

© @jamesbrnes

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Something happens at Shuri's birthday party that leads to a heated fight.

word count: 3k words. (fuck, it worth every damn word)

warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! angry jealous sex, let's start there. unprotected sex, oral sex (face fucking and ridding), fingering, brief daddy!kink, brief praise!kink, language, cursing, handcuffing, mention of bodily fluids, and probably i'm forgetting something else, i just lost my mind. bucky being the cutest and loving man on earth at the end.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

join the tag list here.

You had never been so quiet, but you knew that opening your mouth only could cause a storm inside the car, on your way back home. Believing you could have a pinch of luck, Bucky wouldn't notice that something was raving you mad since the moment you watched him letting another woman give him a spoon of cake. Straight to his mouth. You almost choked on your drink, talking to Shuri about how excited she was to celebrate her birthday in New York, when you witnessed the scene hearing their laughs and watching how they dared to touch his metal arm constantly. Your boyfriend was talking with some of his old friends from Wakanda, not even knowing he made friends there. He never said a word about it. Even so, they didn't have the right to flirt with him. Unless he didn't say anything about you.

But Bucky wasn't stupid. Or at least, not like you thought. Gazing you by the corners of his blue eyes, he was conscious that something was going wrong. He licked his upper lip briefly, slowly. He tasted the waters putting a hand on your thigh, which was your favorite gesture while he was driving, deriving with your fingers laced and him placing kisses on the back of your hand. But you didn't move an inch, still staring through the copilot's window with your elbow nailed there and your chin resting on your knuckles.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing”.

Your passive tone and the lie as a response caused him to frown, pulling over the car to focus on you. He turned on his seat and placed a hand behind the headrest of yours.

“Spit it”.

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow ironically, looking at him for a second. If he had to ask it was because he wasn't really seeing the dilemma there.

“I'm just tired and I wanna go home, James. That's all”.

James. James. You did it unconsciously, but he didn't take it as an innocent manner of calling him. Unexpressive, the soldier joined the highway driving faster than he used to. You had pissed him off, but it wasn't your problem. He had hurt your feelings with something he didn't give any importance to. The only thing you wanted was to take a shower, put on your comfier pajamas and go to sleep, probably you'd see tomorrow that situation differently than today and you could move on from your insecurities and the jealousy running through your veins.

You arrived at your apartment in record time, keeping the car inside the parking under the building. You removed the seat belt to wear your leather jacket and grab your purse on your feet, stepping out when you were ready. But Bucky stayed inside, just turning off the engine. He didn't have any intention of leaving it, maintaining his hands tightly gripped around the wheel. You ignored him as soon as you couldn't pretend you were just tired anymore. It was the first time something like that happened and you were having a strong desire to throw your guts up.

Three minutes later you were under the warm water with your forehead resting against the cold wall and your eyes closed. Maybe you were overreacting and the rational, mature behavior would be to go to talk with him, tell your boyfriend what made you feel upset. Sighing as you nodded two times, determined to put the cards on the table, you shut off the faucet and walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

“Oh, fucking hell!” You growled because of the scare of your life when you found Bucky already in your shared room.

He had his back supported on the wall, a leg flexed, and his hands behind himself. No expression on his face, but expecting an explanation from you. You were hoping for something from him too, maybe I don't know what I've done to make you feel like that, can you give me a clue? He just stared at you in silence, drying the pearls of water decorating your body before wearing a pair of black panties and your forgotten pajamas instead of one of his t-shirts impregnated on his scent.

“Com'ere”. Bucky whispered, stretching his flesh hand on air when you were about to go to sleep.

“No”.

Well, that wasn't the proper way to talk like grown adults. You crossed both arms on your chest, standing next to your side of the bed.

“What'd you say?” He squinted incredulous, slowly standing from the wall, pretending you hadn't uttered that word.

“I said no, you fucking punk”.

“The hell d'you think you're talking to, darling?”

“To the cretin who let other women flirt and touch him”. You replied with evident annoyance. “Why don't you go to show them your daddy's skills, uh? Sure I can find someone who respects me in the meantime”.

Suddenly, a grimace you hadn't seen before on him appeared like a thunderbolt. You weren't sure if you just made him feel more furious or if you just broke his heart. But before you could figure it out, Bucky shorted the distance between both in two fast strides and his hands gripped your throat and the back of your neck respectively, pinning you to the closest wall and tossing the lamp on your nightstand to the floor. You complained slightly —with his tongue wildly invading your mouth— because of the strength he used to put you against the wall.

You tried to push him away, to not fall into his charmings, but he made your mind blank when his fingers were firmly nailed in your ass and his body was accommodated between your legs. Your fiery provoked a bulge under his pants so painful that in every rock against your core he wasn't sure if it hurt or if it was some kind of pleasure he couldn't handle. Out of breath, Bucky attacked your neck, digging his teeth in your neck with so much passion that you screamed delighted his full name while pulling his hair. That gesture drove him insane, losing the less sanity he had at that point. With just a push, your boyfriend ripped off your shirt to strip you, in anticipation of your panties suffering the same fate.

Bucky threw you to the mattress on your abdomen, perfectly positioned to what was about to happen. He was so eager, so desperate for showing you what he was feeling that he didn't lose time taking off his clothes, just undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans to pull them down to his ankles along his boxers. You heard him spitting in his hand to use it as lube, although you were sufficiently soaked and ready for your Buck that neither of you needed his saliva. He rammed his dolorous erection into your cunt, crashing his pelvis and pressing it against your ass with all his strength, causing you to drown a loud cry in the sheets.

Tangling his fingers with yours and lacing your arms around your neck, putting all his weight onto your back, Bucky pounded you with an insanely quick rhythm, not giving you any chance to mold your throbbing walls around his length. Your pleased vocals echoed inside your room in total sync with the hits to your g-spot. Your body received with every one of them soft cramps mixed with pain and pleasure, making you roll your eyes and tear your throat.

“'S that wh— what you wanted, uh?” Bucky snarled against the back of your neck, totally gone, not giving you a break or showing any mercy.

“Fuck, no…” You replied, challenging him.

He swallowed a rough moan, wrapping his cold fingers around your throat while using the other to pull back your hair and arch your body. “Don' fucking… lie to me, doll… You wan— wanted your daddy to make you… feel desired over tho— those women”.

And yes, he was right. More or less. But you didn't expect him to react like that. Bucky was rabidly fucking you, moving the bed from its position with every angry thrust into your pussy. You knew you weren't going to last for too long if he continued impaling you against the mattress, just like that. But you both had to recognize that it was the best session of sex of your life.

“You were… fucking mad watch— watching 'em touch my arm… your arm, right?”

You whined at the brutality he used to push his hard cock beyond your limits, holding it there as he tilted your head to crash his lips on yours. Bucky devoured them until they were shiny, swollen, slightly ached because of the bit he left on your bottom one.

“If you don't tell me… the truth… I swear I'm not gonna let you come”. The whisper fell into your ear with such a raspy tone of voice, conscious of him being very capable.

“It was… your fucking fault, James. Not… Not mine”. You grunted, feeling him going a little deeper. “I di— didn't let anybody flirt with me… as if you didn't exist”.

That was the truth, but the wrong answer for him. Suddenly, Bucky pulled out his dick covered in your arousal, freeing you from any grip. A pause that only lasted the time he took to grab the handcuffs from your nightstand to place them in your wrists and secure them around the headboard. Now you were under his total control, defying him by strongly closing your legs and frowning at him, panting and sweating.

“Lemme tell you something”. Your boyfriend said, dangerously crawling over the bed till reaching your knees and forcing them to be separated, wide spread for him. “If you think I was flirting, but you didn't see… how uncomfortable I was… This situation is not my fault”.

The tables were turned as he finished his sentence, settling himself between your legs yet kneeling to raise your ass above his lap. “Not so mouthy now, are you, doll?”

You wanted to speak back, to say something after having a second to reconsider the reason why you were so angrier at him when Bucky pushed you down and rammed his dick back to the place it belonged. You forced unconsciously your hands gripped, wanting to put them on him —wherever—. As soon as he handcuffed you, your desire for touching him used to be suffocating. But you were the one who played from the start, instead of telling him how you were feeling about that situation at Shuri's party.

Bucky didn't even let you kiss him, stabilizing you on top with an arm around your waist and his cold hand holding the back of your head. His hips rocked straight to your g-spot once and once, making you lose any kind of control over your body as your boyfriend didn't have any compassion, needing to find relief to his sorrowful erection by cumming inside your clenching walls. You were driving him crazy, maintaining your eye contact at all moments and almost drinking your delighted, obscene crying, aware that only him could cause you to be so dirty.

“Feels good, uh…? You like it?” Your boyfriend brushed your lips with his, depriving you of his kisses or any other touch. “Bec— 'cause you take your daddy... so damn good, baby girl… So tight… so tight you could kill me”.

“Yes, da— daddy”. You whimpered nodding your head. “Only you… can fuck me li— like that… Only you”.

“That's it… that's it, oh, fuck… fuck, doll”.

You saw him roll that pair of beautiful blue eyes to the back of his head, feeling Bucky's thighs tensing under your legs. You didn't want anything else than making him cum, after overthinking about how he felt, and not about what you witnessed. He was right, more or less. He was still being so innocent in those kinds of situations that he used to feel like a scared kid.

You suddenly fell back to reality when the emptiness sensation invaded you. Bucky pulled out his length from you again, causing you to beg in silence for not denying you the orgasm you were about to reach. But he warned you. Bucky asked you to tell him the truth and you chose to challenge him. Letting you sit on the mattress, he flexed a leg to guide his twitching cock to your mouth, not needing to tell you what he wanted you to do. You just parted your lips, receiving him without protesting, curling your fingers when he forced your limits, and positioned both hands on your head. Twirling your tongue around his base as you could, with your cavity completely invaded, Bucky provoked you a strong gag. A gesture that led to his warm seed being spilled down your throat.

“Fuck my life, baby girl!” He couldn't help but howl driven by the pleasure as you coughed and made vibrate his sensitive skin.

Just holding his dick trapped by your lips for a second, he freed your mouth, taking his time to admire you swallowing his cum and showing afterward your tongue. God, you looked so beautiful disheveled, with teary eyes and swollen lips because of the effort.

“Want me to tell you something else?” Bucky asked while cleaning the sweat in his forehead with the back of his arm, taking the small key to liberating you with his free hand.

You didn't reply, not needing to, as he rubbed your wrists to comfort your skin before lying by your side.

“Com'ere”. He whispered, yet trying to recover your breathings. Bucky wrapped you with his flesh arm, rubbing his iron fingers up and down your tense belly, creating a contrast that caused you goosebumps. “'M so sorry for making you feel like that”.

He kissed you. Slowly, passionate, tasting his own juices mixed with your saliva. Caressing your tongue with the tip of his, and no rush. You felt his digits touring down your skin, till finding your throbbing and needed clit. You weren't able to hold back a sweet moan when he circled his fingertip over your sensible pearl, gladly drinking your vocals.

“When I wanted to react… she was putting that damn spoon into my mouth. It felt horrible, doll, I promise”. He murmured, venturing his long cold finger to part your folds and sink it inside you —moaning at the fulfill sensation—. “You always save me from those awkward situations… but you were having fun with Shuri and I didn't want to interrupt you”.

You were feeling like shit, looking at him through your eyelids as he curved a second finger into your cunt and increased the pace of the pounds with his hand made of vibranium. Bucky spread some gentle kisses all around your face, ending with a tender bite to your lips.

“When you told me you wanted to go home, I felt a huge relief… 'Cause that was everything I wanted. Go home with you. Maybe watch a movie… cuddle… fall asleep on the sofa”.

“Oh, God, Bucky”. You wept onto his mouth, as soon as a third finger filled you, nailing his hand in the perfect position to be moved up and down. “I'm so— sorry, Buck… I'm sorry”.

“Fuck, no”. He let out, thrusting you harder, faster, creating a melody of filthy sloppy sounds while your moans were louder and louder. “I should stop 'em, I didn't… I didn't. But I respect you more than anything, doll… I love you with all my heart. I care 'bout you, 'bout your feelings… Can you forgive me? Can you… Can you cum for me?”

You nodded your head running out of words, seeing your boyfriend snaking his body down the bed to between your shaky legs, yet having his fingers knuckles deep inside you. “Keep 'em open for your man”.

The blow to your abused cunt provoked you a lash up to your backbone, landing your hands on his head as Bucky sank his face straight to your center. His digits fucked you savagely, while his tongue took control of your swollen pearl —sucking, licking, kissing, pulling it back—. He wasn't going to deny that pleasure to you, quite the opposite. You pressed unconsciously his face a little closer to your pussy, swinging your hips and riding his mouth when his caresses and his pushes became too much for you.

Bucky made you cum harder than ever, crying his name till you didn't have any strength and you were just a sack of bones under his expert mouth, devouring you and drinking your juices as if it was the elixir of life. And when he was satiated, you glanced at him using the tip of his tongue to trail a path up crossing your abdomen, the gap between your breasts, your throat, until kissing you again getting comfortable on top of you. It was a kiss full of love, and guiltiness, and necessity, and pure devotion for you.

“Did I hurt you with what I said?” You murmured, still enraptured by the fireworks fluttering within your belly.

“This isn't 'bout me”. Bucky clicked his tongue, hiding his face into your sweaty neck. “This is 'bout what I let happen”.

“That doesn't answer my question, Buck… I'm sorry about what I said. I was just… I feel insecure". You confessed stroking his scalp and back with your hands, lacing your legs together. “I didn't mean it. I would never try to… find someone who respects me more than you do. That's impossible. And not talking about how much you love me”.

“I love you with every inch of myself”. He swore, he promised, raising his face to look straight at your eyes. “I can't imagine a life without you”.

“Me either… Your love makes me feel alive”.

Bucky left one last tender kiss on your lips before suddenly standing up and holding you onto his arms to carry you to the bathroom and take a shower together —wash your hair, worship your body again as if it was the last thing he was going to do—.

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[ktlsyrtis]

So a while ago there was a post about Serena giving Bernie's dog tags back to her (I think it was from the lovely @backjustforberena) and I commented that I had lots of thoughts on how that might happen.

This unedited word vomit is one of those thoughts 😅

...

Curled up in what has become "her" chair, the book Serena is ostensibly reading sits forgotten in her lap, her chin propped thoughtfully on one hand.

Autumn has well and truly come to the coast of Spain, bringing with it some relief from the heat of summer. The doors to the veranda are flung open, letting a breeze laden with the scent of bougainvillea and the salty tang of sea air flow through the villa. Over her shoulder a lush expanse of garden is visible, with the crystal blue of the Mediterranean beyond. It's a view that Serena has come to love, that most people would give almost anything to see.

But all that beauty pales before a sight far more rare and precious, one that makes Serena's heart race, that she hopes she'll see every day for the rest of her life.

Bernie's face is relaxed as she sleeps, stretched out on the sitting room sofa. They'd gone for a meandering walk through the nearby nature preserve this morning. By the time they returned Serena could see that Bernie was flagging, though she'd never admit it, stubborn thing that she was.

She's learned well how to gently encourage Bernie in the right direction when she refuses to listen to the needs of her body. Makes suggestions subtle enough that Bernie can maintain the self sufficiency that's so important to her. It's been a hard lesson for Serena, fighting against her natural impulse to protect Bernie, but after months of navigating uncertain boundaries, awkward silences punctuated with spirited rows when one of them crossed the line, they've found a balance that works for them.

Today that looked like Serena suggesting Bernie look for something on Netflix while she put together a light lunch. When she walked into the room with a plate of assorted cheeses, fruits, and a rather lovely sausage they'd found at the market, Bernie was already asleep, the television remote resting on her stomach.

Countless hours of therapy have helped Serena work through her fears of losing Bernie again. Early on, when Bernie was healing and they were figuring out how to be them again, having Bernie out of sight for more than a few minutes would fill her with panic, mind whirling with endless possible catastrophes that could have taken Bernie away from her once more. That tendency has eased now - something they're both grateful for - but Serena still feels better when she knows where Bernie is, even more when she's in sight.

Her fingers find the chain beneath neck of her blouse as her thoughts turn inevitably to their most recent separation. It wasn't fair for one person to endure so much, she thought, throat tightening. And the pain of losing a child is one she would have given anything to protect Bernie from.

Years of crushing experience have taught her all too well that is simply not how the world works.

"It's impolite to watch someone sleep, Campbell."

Serena's distant gaze refocuses, meets Bernie's sleep filled eyes.

"Is it?" She smiles softly. "Fortunately I've never had much concern for politeness."

"My kind of girl." It's an old joke between them, a reminder of early days that makes them both grin. "Still, it is a bit creepy."

Serena's straightens, sets her book down with a prim little hmpf.

"Well that's too bad for you, isn't it. Because I'm not planning on ever letting you out of my sight again."

Her tone is light, but they both know the seriousness of the statement. If there's one thing that Serena knows with absolutely certainty, it's that home is wherever Bernie Wolfe is. Nothing else is an option.

"I can work with that," Bernie says softly, eyes so full of love it makes Serena's chest ache.

She shifts in her seat, and her fingernail clicks against the chain she's still worrying. Hesitating a moment, she lifts the chain over her head, pulling it free.

The dog tags are warm in her palm, a familiar weight, her finger tracing the raised lettering. She'd taken to wearing them again when Bernie left for Holby, a tangible connection that she could hang onto when her fears got the best of her.

Rising, Serena moves to the sofa, Bernie shifting to make room for her to sit.

"I think it's time I gave these back to you."

Picking up Bernie's hand, Serena sets the tags in her palm, curling her fingers shut over them.

"Are you sure?" Bernie asks carefully, and Serena has to breathe through the sudden tears that blur her vision. That Bernie can still be so caring, so concerned for another's welfare after everything she's been through is a blessing that Serena still struggles to feel she deserves.

She nods sharply, releasing Bernie's hand to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

"I'm sure." She gives a watery smile, brushing her thumb along Bernie's cheekbone. "If I'm not letting you out my sight, then I don't need them, do I?"

Bernie leans into the touch, eyes closed for a moment, before turning to press a gentle kiss to Serena's palm. Comfort with physical contact has been slow in returning to Bernie, and Serena treasures every time she allows the desire to touch and to be touched to surface.

They sit together like that, the villa quiet except for the sounds of birds outside, Serena indulging in the feel of Bernie's soft skin beneath her hand. She can tell that Bernie is working through something, those parallel grooves appearing between her eyebrows, and she knows its best to wait until Bernie finds the words she needs.

"I, um, have something of yours, too." There's a wariness in Bernie's eyes that gives way to certainty, like when she's decided on a course of action in theater, and she moves to sit up. "Wait here."

Serena's mouth drops open to admonish Bernie rest, but snaps shut just as quickly. Her hands clench in her lap to stop from reaching out as Bernie slowly eases herself to standing with a wince.

It must be less than a minute before Bernie returns. Still, Serena spends the time focusing on her breathing, bringing her thoughts back to the rise and fall of her chest.

Sitting a bit gingerly on the edge of the low coffee table, Bernie holds out her hand without a word, posture relaxed, gaze steady. Time stops, Serena's heart in her throat making it hard to breathe.

In the palm of Bernie's hand, just over her lifeline, is a ring.

"I had this with me when I came home the last- I mean, for Jason's wedding." Bernie speaks cautiously, but shows no sign of anything but certainty. "I didn't have the chance to-. Well, I put it in my safe deposit box before I left. Charlotte sent it along with the rest of my things. I think it's time for it to be with its rightful owner."

She should be scared, Serena thinks. Her therapist would warn that decisions like this shouldn't be made after an ordeal like the one Bernie's endured. Instead, all she feels is peace, a sense of rightness.

"Are you certain?"

The question is a formality, they both know that, but they've learned the hard way the damage that silence can do. A crooked smile tugs at Bernie's lips, crinkles at the corners of her eyes.

"I'm certain. It's always been you, Serena."

Tears well up anew as Serena nods, holds out her hand. The ring is a perfect fit, diamonds and deep blue sapphires glinting in the afternoon light. She shifts forward, their knees bumping, doesn't even try to hide the emotion in her voice.

"You know this means you're stuck with me now," Serena teases, reaching out cup Bernie's cheek. Bernie hums softly, leaning into the touch.

"For eternity?"

They both know that forever is a myth, and no ring, no piece of paper can make it otherwise. There will be more hard times ahead. There always are. But they'll face those hard times together. That's more than enough.

"For eternity," Serena agrees, leans forward to seal the promise with a kiss.

[lilyclawthorne]

Keeping Up A-fear-ance's Thoughts

I finished writing this shortly after 3 am after watching the new episode like three times because I simply had too much energy about it and I have so many thoughts because I simply live for clawthornes and also I tried to break it up with more photos this time sorry not sorry if it's a lot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

YOUNG EDA!! let me just say I am quite a fan of opening with a flashback like we've done here and the last episode

"we have never seen a curse like this before" Lilith you had shit luck picking out curses huh

"cut it out if we have to" goddamn Gwen let'a calm the fuck down a bit.

anyways we've only really seen young Eda as a wild and confident and happy little child so I appreciate seeing this side of her with the anxiety and fear she's feeling here. I love seeing what the curse stuff was like for her as a kid

Gwen: I raised a perfectly fine kid

Me: no you didn't look at her she's got anxiety

I'm guessing this is their backyard or just some woods behind their house?? wonder if the portal was placed there by another elder family member.

lmao I can't even begin to imagine what small Eda experiencing the human realm was like for the first time

Gwens giving me "I can't accept that my child is disabled/chronically ill/etc." here. y’know the kinda parent that'll put their kid through hell over something they probably will find a way to learn to live with (which Eda did do)

ok that's it I humbly request to know the story behind the fang now (also the noise she made when she put it in was freaking cute)

new dress! new boots! new dress! new boots!

..yikes that fridge is empty

"calm down the curse acts stronger when you're stressed" Eda do you know who you're talking to here

confirmation losing limbs is in fact a side effect of the curse!! (y'know since Eda originally said it just happens when you get older)

please I love these sisters they're so sweet and make me wanna go 🥺

"suddenly curious about my past" "always. always curious" Luz says exactly what we all think

witchlet?? sweet flea?? she's got pet names for them 🥺 (although idk how much I'd like to be referred to as any kind of flea sorry Lilith)

ok Gwen is very much not close to what I expected and I'm kinda grateful for that

she's more like super caring but still managed to royally fuck up which was my original head canon for clawthorne parents so uh that's cool. but literally, look at their body language, Eda's pissed, Lilith's sad and making herself small. she's clearly messed up with her parenting on both of them along the way.

"who knows what they put in those nasty concoctions?" mama clawthorne would be a fucking anti-vaxxer wouldn't she

ok I side with Eda here more than Luz and Lilith. just because Luz misses her mother, or Lilith hasn’t seen their mom in so long doesn’t mean Eda has to feel all grateful for the presence of Gwen, especially if the woman has caused her a lot of trouble over the years

I feel like the fact that its actually both Lilith and Gwendolyn have spent their whole lives dedicated to trying to find a cure could probably have held some kind of weight on Eda at some point. Even though she shouldn't feel guilty or responsible for that, I still feel like it's gotta suck knowing these people have spent so much time on something you know is likely never gonna happen, all for you.

Lilith 😞 her mother really just didn't pay attention to her all these years

hey if this guy does some next level healing magic then why isn't he more well-known, huh? why’d it take so long to come across him?? Gwen do you know what the fuck you're doing cause I think you don't

Lilith just because you're depressed about your mom doesn't mean you have to bring king down too 😠

SUPER irrelevant but is anyone else just bothered by the way Lilith is holding her spoon?? that doesn't seem like a comfortable way to hold a spoon. also is she left handed??

"knife season came early" EDA WHAT DOES THAT MEAN. is this a boiling isles things or is this a it’s common for people to throw knives at you thing

also I want to be surprised Eda fell for the apple blood signs but I am not 😔 

Luz please trust you're gut on this one and not mama clawthorne

ok now I need to know why the fridge was empty but they had 18 cartons of ice cream this is why you guys don't have food you're wasting it all on ice cream.

wow never thought I'd see the day hooty became the voice of reason

also, night market ice cream?? are they implying this ice cream is like, edibles of some sort?? Lilith does seem kinda high here ngl. idk man but at least she wants to stand up for herself so good for her.

PLEASE kings just offering her ice cream while she transforms

"first in a series" Gwen honey oh no. you've been duped. I think we can see where Lilith got her naïveté from huh.

Also, nice snatch Luz 😊

anyways love how this show is basically making fun of moms who refuse to give their kids proper medical treatment or listen to medical professionals here

EXCUSE ME why do we know Gwen's palisman's name before we know Lilith's?????

"I am a mother who'll do anything for her daughter" you're mom who's suffocating obsession with one daughter has left the other neglected and is currently causing her to turn into a full on beast ya dummy

Eda DOES have a right to be upset. it sucks that her own valid emotions that she should get to feel will cause her while body to betray her.

PLEASE I’M SO GLAD LILITH’S BEAST DESIGN LOOKS LIKE HER AND IS NOT THE THING FROM THE TRAILER THAT IS ACTUALLY IN EDA"S HEAD WHEN SHE’S TRANSFORMED

but also why is she SO massive?? also anyone concerned that this is her first transformation and the light glyph trick wouldn't even work??

Gwen look at what you've done, you've fostered feelings of inferiority in one daughter causing her to feel the need for sibling rivalry that the pure instincts of the raven beast cannot suppress no matter how much their sisterly relationship had improved.

HOW COULD YOUR OTHER DAUGHTER ALSO BEING CURSED BE A PART OF THE PROCESS GWEN??

"after Eda was cursed, I joined the beast keeping coven" woah woah WOAH. you're telling me you only joined because of trying to help Eda. that covens existed, before Eda got cursed, and you very much weren't a part of one. combine that with "some words for belos" she has and do I smell wild witch theory still plausible???

anyways at least mama clawthorne is getting some sense into her head here

Morton c'mon help a girl out, that's some dang good art too what the heck dude

ok fine mama clawthorne to the rescue

no pls not raven beast Lilith crying im crying now

Gwen: I raised a fine and self-sufficient child

Me: no you didn't look at her. she's got, SO MUCH.

GODDAMN THATS SOME POWER. ngl this only adds fuel to the fire in my head that there was some kinda reasoning these sisters were torn apart, that someone felt they'd be too powerful together (and they were probably right)

"I heard you but I couldn't stop myself, I couldn't do anything" may be just because she's not used to the curse but again part of me is concerned that because she couldn't pull herself out of it even a little bit like Eda did that there's something wrong there. but she also could've been stressed beyond reasonably calming herself down too.

ok but this is sweet

NOOO im so sad Lilith's leaving :( I literally cried ok

"you lived here?" fine OKAY king that was hilarious even if im sad about this

"reconnect with dad" excuse me where the fuck has this man been in the middle of all of this. curse shit is going DOWN and he's just chilling at home.

I am curious about people's thoughts regarding the whole Lilith regression thing and the fact that she's literally going to be living with her parents again. I feel like it could help nurture that inner child she's been reverting back to and help her out a LOT. but I could also be concerned about it feeding into the regression and making it worse?? idk and this show probably ain't getting that actually deep into psych anyways

"some day my hair is gonna be big enough to do that too" Luz I cannot wait for the day. also mood, I wish I could do that too.

alright who's holding the fucking pen for hooty we need a volunteer RIGHT NOW so we can remain in contact with Lulu

NOT THE ONLY HUMAN? my bets on the real azura rip never mind she said he

Titan’s Blood?? interesting. If the blood of the titan is around I wonder what that means regarding the titans existence, and how long its been since the titan fell.

AHH BABY LUZ PHOTO

ALSO WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?? They're really gonna spring that on us like this??? Camila's gotta notice somethings wrong right??? Unless any differences she just chalks up to the camp?? oh god :(

well, anyways lumity shippers come get yo juice next weekend

anyways im gonna need to add a NOT canon compliant tag on that one Gwendolyn fic I wrote because it definitely do not comply anymore

[twistedsinews]

OC Profile

Tagged by @chyrstis

<3

Tagging: @rosewaterhag, @hunnybadgerv, @gatticus, @heywoodvirgin (for when you come back), @chyrstis, @ ... whoever wants to do it and hasn't yet!

V

General

Name: V. Literally. It's always been just V.

Alias(ses): Enough people assume that V is an alias, and it's difficult enough to track down in a database. However. She will use other aliases for one-off jobs when she needs the extra layer of security of not having someone track her down through street work, but none of them really get recycled.

Gender: Nomad. I jest, but I'm pretty sure she's somewhat off the binary even if she straddles the line.

Age: As of the events of C77, she'd just turned 29.

Birthdate: I don't actually have one for her. Possibly in January... I'm only saying that because I started playing Cyberpunk on my birthday but that's when she came into creation so why not.

Place of birth: The Badlands. I'm not sure where in the Badlands, but probably quite the distance from Night City.

Hometown: She grew up in a roving band of self-sufficient scavengers, so... everywhere. And nowhere.

Spoken languages: English. Bad English. She might've picked up a few scattered words of other languages, but she relies heavily on her translation software and that reliance has stunted her learning.

Sexual preference: Ladies and gentlemen, and Jackie Welles. She's not picky on the sex or gender front, but someone who can keep up with her, ideally.

Occupation: Street Ronin. Mercenary for hire.

Appearance

Eye color: Mid-light purple. Dark brown, prior to getting modded.

Hair color: Blue and red, although she'll change it from time to time. Black, prior to getting modded.

Height: 5'8"

Scars: She has a few. The healed slash on her face comes from her first real knife fight, and she keeps it as something of a memento. There are some newer scars on her hands. And let's not talk about that mess of scar tissue that is her heart, because ow.

Favorite

Color: I think she probably likes pink, red, blue, and teal about equally.

Hair color: Barring mods, probably dark.

Eye color: Sky blue.

Song: Favorite in the same way that pain makes you feel alive, I think, but post-Heist, she found a new appreciation for Never Fade Away.

Food: Marshmallows. City takeout, especially pizza.

Non-alcoholic drink: Soda, the sweeter the better.

Alcoholic drink: Nomad moonshine, but tequila can be fun. And then there's vodka.

Have they...

Passed university: Fuck, no.

Had sex: Fuck, yes.

Had sex in public: ...I mean. Not on the Main St. Sidewalk, but I'm... pretty sure there wasn't as much privacy in all those back alley trysts as you might want to believe. Also, do orgies and sex clubs count as public? ‘cause, uh...

Gotten pregnant: Nope. Cyborg birth control ftw!

Kissed a boy: Yes.

Kissed a girl: Yes.

Gotten tattoos: Several. All traditional, none of them are Light tattoos.

Gotten piercings: A few in her ears, the nosering, and the eyebrow thing.

Been in love: Yes. Not until she reached Night City, but then she kinda made up for it by falling in love a few times over the course of the game.

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Pretty regularly, for business and for pleasure.

Are they...

A virgin: Ha. No.

A cuddler: Very much so. Even before the love part, she was always very tactile. (It confused the hell out of Jackie until he just accepted that being her best friend and go-to fling was about as intimate as some relationships he'd been in... prior to feelings coming to light, anyway.)

A kisser: Indeed.

Scared easily: In some ways, not so much others. On her own, she's pretty reckless and fearless. When she has people she cares about, she can fairly easily get scared of fucking up the relationship and also of outside harm coming to them if and when these things crop up on the horizon. However, it pretty much took coming face to face with death in a way she couldn't shrug off before she actually got traumatized to the point of being terrified.

Jealous easily: Under the right circumstances. She's less jealous of physical activity and closeness and more when it comes to feelings.

Trustworthy: She can lie and she can twist the truth, and she has no scruples against doing either. But when it boils down to it, if she's on your side she will have your back to the last cliff at the end of the world.

Dominant: She certainly can be. She can be hard-headed and stubborn, to add to it, and she has no second thoughts about stepping up and taking charge. Though if we're talking about in bed, she's drastically less so.

Submissive: To whom is the bigger question. If she likes someone, she tends to be a lot gentler and tries to be considerate. And again, if we're talking about in bed, well... yes. Pushy about it sometimes, maybe, but yes.

In love: Ha. Hahaha. Yes. With quite a few people.

Single: It's complicated (TM).

Random questions (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

Have they harmed themselves: In a manner of speaking. It's not a conscious/deliberate thing, the way most people think of self-harm, but she falls into plenty of behaviors that would qualify and definitely puts herself out there in harms way or restricts herself as a means of self-punishment.

Thought of suicide: Yes. Quite a bit, after the Heist.

Attempted suicide: Again, not in a conscious or deliberate way, but more of a sarcastic 'wouldn't it be a shame if these dangerous behavior patterns happened to have consequences' way.

Wanted to kill someone: Quite a bit! And has!

Have/had a job: Very many!

Have any fears: Losing the people she cares about, to negligence or outside influence. Not making any lasting impact. Dying, after viewing that BD, and double after reliving Johnny's memories, and triple actually doing it once or twice.

Family

Siblings: To her knowledge, she's an only child. It's plausible that her mother remarried after leaving the clan.

Parents: Her father is a Nomad. Her mother is City, though V never knew which city. She's not in contact with either. And so far, I haven't given them names.

Children: None and she's a little terrified of the idea. Not that she couldn't eventually change her mind - she never thought she'd be in love, either.

Significant other: Jackie. Misty. Arguably Panam and River. Saul and Placide she kinda wishes. Johnny she kinda wishes not, but they share a brain and that's pretty significant even if not in any traditional relationship sense.

Pets: One (1) sphinx cat she found and picked up that was hiding in the alleys of her MegaBuilding.

[beca-mitchell]

I'm always on the lookout for your tags. Bechloe roadtrip au otw? Ahahhaha

aksldg I forget sometimes that people read my tags

honestly, this au was a headcanon that spiralled out of control (looking at you @chloebdeale) as per usual

this is one of the smutty excerpts because sometimes it just be like that

Beca whimpers out against Chloe’s mouth, holding her hips steady.

There is something excessively passionate about the way their kisses shift from excruciatingly soft to devastatingly forceful.

The scratchy fabric rubs against Beca’s back as she shifts, gasping out against emptiness because Chloe pulls back and lifts herself up as best as she can.

“I thought you wanted to look at the stars” Beca murmurs, gliding her hands up Chloe’s thighs. She bites her lip, hoping against hope that Chloe says ‘no’ - that Chloe gives in to her desire.

Chloe makes a soft noise, neither in dissent or agreement. Instead of responding further, she lifts her shirt over her head, smiling down at Beca as if that’s answer enough.

(It is. A million times so.)

“Or we can stay,” Beca murmurs, pulling Chloe back into her body. Once Chloe settles back against her, Beca’s hands immediately find their way up Chloe’s bra, palming at stiff nipples a little greedily; palming a little lovingly.

Chloe’s breath is hot against her cheek. “Stay,” Chloe echoes before she tilts her head, capturing Beca’s half-parted lips in a sweet, delicate kiss. Her hips shift a little restlessly, belying the slow push and pull of their lips.

Chloe loves kissing Beca. She adores how Beca loses her entire body to a kiss - how Beca succumbs to the moment entirely. Beca’s hands never quite know what to do; her hands never linger, nor do they explore too aggressively.

For a few moments, both women are content to linger, neither of them pushing forward for more.

But something drives them forward, as always. Their relationship has always been one of unknowns and variables. Always steadily moving forward towards some inexplicable future, but it never mattered because they were together, finally, after spending so much wasted time apart.

Beca is about to hook her own shorts down her legs when Chloe lifts herself off her again. Chloe makes quick work of her own clothing, giggling a little at Beca’s wide-eyed expression when she tosses the clothes somewhere towards the front of the van.

Briefly, Beca hopes that she locked the van doors, but none of that matters because her eyes are greedily tracking in every inch of exposed skin. Even as Chloe slides down her shorts and underwear in one deft motion, Beca can only focus on how pretty Chloe looks, eyes glimmering in the light. Swollen lips and the barest hint of a flush. Gentle curves that Beca wants to touch. Memories of every intimate encounter they’ve ever had flood through Beca’s mind and settle between her legs, reminding her how much she aches for Chloe to settle inside her; how much she aches for Chloe to make love to her.

Chloe thinks Beca is beautiful like this. Breathless and wanting. Waiting for Chloe’s next move with no small measure of anticipation. Beca’s hair is messy and sprawled against the checkered sheet, gently illuminated by the small lights Chloe strung up around the van earlier. Beca’s skin looks impossibly soft, inciting an itch in Chloe to kiss her everywhere. To gently mark her skin. To nip at her neck, her collarbone. Her stomach. Her breasts. She wants to kiss at Beca’s stiff nipples; wants to suck and leave little aching marks across Beca so that she remembers every last second.

Outside, the breeze is light, flowing in and out of the van intermittently.

Chloe realizes how alone they are - how isolated they are from everybody else. She selfishly has always wanted Beca to herself for as long as she can remember, so this moment feels especially poignant.

Now that Beca’s underwear is discarded, Chloe glides her hands back up Beca’s legs, revelling in the warmth beneath her hands. Gently, she eases Beca’s legs apart, biting her lip to stop the needy whimper that threatens to escape the moment she catches sight of the glistening between Beca’s thighs.

Beca’s chest feels tight. Chloe’s hair falls loosely and messily around her shoulders, looking like Beca has already run her fingers through it a thousand times over. Chloe’s skin is especially luminescent, every last mark and freckle illuminated beneath the dual glow of the moon and the gentle fairy lights. For all that Beca used to make fun of Chloe for her fixation on aesthetics, she can’t find herself complaining at this moment.

“You’re so pretty,” Chloe murmurs, breaking the momentary silence. Beca’s breath returns to her in a sharp inhale and she can only blink at Chloe as she settles between her legs, nestling herself comfortably against her body. “Beautiful,” Chloe continues.

Beca’s breath stutters. Her heart aches inexplicably, like she desperately needs to say something in return. Her hand finds its way into Chloe’s hair again, gripping at thick curls so that they’re closer than ever, suddenly. Chloe’s forehead rests against hers and for an extended pause, they share air like it’s their last together. Every moment with Chloe Beale feels like that somehow - like Beca needs to remember every last second because it feels too surreal. Too delicate. Too beautiful.

Chloe brushes her nose against Beca’s nose. Then her cheek, then the seam of her lips. Beca’s lips part to expel another breath, this one tinged with a hint of a whine. Chloe smiles at that, returning to kiss at Beca’s soft lips, never tiring of the taste of fading lip gloss, never tiring of the instant response she receives.

“Mine,” Beca murmurs against her mouth. “You’re mine,” she continues, muffled and weak against Chloe’s mouth. It’s soft and almost as if Beca has no control over the words leaving her mouth. Almost as if she’s giving in to every last base desire.

It jolts such desperate desire through Chloe’s body that her hand seemingly gravitates straight towards Beca’s center. Maintaining their languid kisses, Chloe slowly uses her fingers to gently stroke through Beca’s soft flesh. The heat is stinging and sharp, with how wet and hot Beca. The same heat flashes through Chloe with an answering slick wetness of her own. One that Beca has to feel against her thigh.

“Touch me,” Chloe pleads softly against Beca’s mouth. “Please, touch me.”

Beca’s breath catches for two reasons: Chloe’s words and Chloe’s fingers, now sufficiently wet and slick, probing at her entrance as if asking permission.

(Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.)

[actuallyschizoid]

why do you live with your parents? i'm schizoid and i want to live alone (and will do so soon) just curious

Because I live in Russia :) We own 4 apartments for 3 of us, 2 of those 4 we give for rent, 1 is undergoing repairs so we can rent it too. It’s just plain out inefficient to live separately when no one has a properly paid job. 

I mean, I wouldn’t mind at all to live separately. But since not gaining money = losing money, I’d have to pay ~$500/month to live alone. I just don’t value my own wishes to this amount. I barely even know what I actually want or do I want anything at all. 

Basically, I just don’t care enough xD I’m perfectly fine with having those live-alone money on my bank account instead. Along with a cup of hot coffee that materializes itself on my desk at morning thanks to dad not minding to make two cups for both of us.

Sharing household with non-hostile people has its convenient perks. Even if it’s not exactly about any emotional shit, but just basic cut on expenses. We barely communicate through the day, so it’s not too expensive on my end as well. And they benefit from this coexistence too, since I don’t mind to help out when needed. 

All in all, being schizoid doesn’t have to equate to living alone. While desire to live alone is perfectly natural for us, and I have it too. And I intend to live alone once my parents are gone as well — i.e. it’s unlikely I’ll be looking for new people to live with. 

But those two I’m already attached to, and there’s nothing to do about it. And while it is so, I’m fine to tag alone with them just because there’s not much reason not to — we had our issues, but by now we somehow managed to deal with most of them, and it’s relatively rare we annoy each other to a point of conflicts. 

So yeah, the key here is low emotional intimacy level, not the actual lack of any humans living nearby. As long as each minds their own business, each has their own room and doesn’t suddenly snap on head of each other with emotional talks, it can work out if one or even all involved are schizoids. 

Problem is, when living with non-schizoid people, this key component rarely comes naturally — it may take years to learn and adjust to each other’s limits, etc. For schizoids it’s usually just not worth the effort — being self-sufficient is not that hard compared to it. And avoiding the need to get through this learning process is much more valuable than whatever expenses one might save by not living alone. 

My only shortcut here was the fact that I lived most of those 32 years of my live under same roof with those two, and 2/3 of this time we had no choice but to learn. And now since it’s done already, why not use those hard earned benefits of non-problematic coexistence? :D

[paperpeachy]

so um... you posted that cool pic of vivi and doo_liss and said they parallel each other, maybe its really obvious and i'm just dumb but could you like explain? how they parallel

sure thing anon, i don’t mind! i do take a lot of liberties when i write these characters, but most of my hcs are based off the few times we see of each other, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant those moments are. and with Doopliss in particular, it’s interesting! i’ll try explaining as best as i can, anon!

((this does get super long though;; so i had to put it under a read more :’3))

okay, so Doopliss is a fun boss because, like Grubba and Cortez, he’s independent in his own story (for a while). He doesn’t have any affiliation to the Shadow Queen/Grodus, and his motivations are purely personal. that in itself makes Doopliss a very self sufficient character, yeah? especially since his whole shtick is “I do what makes me happy!”meanwhile, at the start of the game, Vivian is stuck chain and ball to Beldam. constantly dragged around and the target of most of her sister’s abuse. she barely stands up for herself and just…doesn’t find herself worthy enough to. i think it’s safe to say that Beldam was the most responsible for how weak and inferior she felt. there may have been other factors growing up effecting Vivi, like her super duper evil mother, but based on how out of touch both her and Marilyn were with Beldam’s plans, i’d say they were the most dependent on their older sister.so at that point, we can say Doopliss and Vivian lived in two very opposite lifestyles. Doopliss was in his element and Vivian wasn’t. Doopliss lived independently and Vivian didn’t. this starts to change the moment Vivian joins your party, and it eventually domino effects onto Doopliss.Mario doesn’t push or guilt-trip Vivian when joining his party, and when she realises how starved she is to be treated like an actual person, she finally takes the first step opposing Beldam and does what she herself wants. her change after that is pretty obvious too, but there are small lines here and there that slowly become more sure of herself and even sarcastic! she faces so many different circumstances with a rag-tag team of totally unique characters, and starts meshing into a girl that can face her sister and confidently tell her, “Today, Sis…I’m going to punish YOU, you hear me?”now Doopliss…here’s where he does the exact opposite of what Vivian’s going through. well, actually it starts when he runs into Beldam and Marilyn. the game never tells us how or even why he joins the Shadow Sirens; Goombella herself says it’s weird! i like to think while Doopliss definitely found the idea of ‘getting back at Mario’ fun and exciting, Beldam didn’t have to be very persuasive to get him on her side either.remember! Doopliss was entirely independent and had 0 connections to any bigger power. at any other point before, Doopliss would’ve just laughed at Beldam’s face for attempting an alliance with him- an alliance where he’s simply tagging along can’t be that fun. but with the secret of his name now shattered, he didn’t have much to lose.whereas Vivian couldn’t break free from her sister because no one had since reached out for her, Doopliss chose to accept Beldam because his name wasn’t holding him back anymore. He’s already unique and a lot more dangerous than other Duplighosts because of his name-nabbing powers, so having that somewhat nullified by Mario really served as a demotivator to him. Vivian gives in to self-love and Doopliss gives up his individuality. I would call both of their resolves ‘parallels’. a better way to describe the two here would be ‘foils’.this interaction is never shown on screen and is barely elaborated on, but seeing Doopliss’ attitude slowly change from then on leads me to that conclusion! after running away from the steeple, he only yields more and more into submission, and it’s clear from the get-go that it has something to do with Beldam. when Pennington’s leading him away in chapter 6, he says, “You think you can hold me? No way! Beldam would flip if I let that happen!”  and he goes on about how this was Beldam’s plan and how he’ll leave it to her, and it’s already pretty clear that Doopliss is no longer in charge of his own fun. he’s leashed onto her, similarly to how Vivian was, and his speech pattern derails into something more pitiful than we’re used to from him- if his stuttering around her is anything to go off. this lasts until the end of the game.so maybe, the proper term would be ‘opposite parallels’? what i meant when i called them parallels, was that while the two were constantly going through completely different paths and decisions in the game, they both had encountered each other’s problems before. they both cave under a demanding voice (Beldam’s), and come to their own resolves in chapter 4 at similar times.they went through similar experiences at the exact opposite times, and the two have the potential to finally meet at the end and understand each other’s weaknesses and how Doopliss could go back to doing what makes him happy (with necessary reservations now, of course). at the same time, Doopliss could bring out a more relaxed and fun-loving part of Vivian, which is a reason why i think their relationship as friends makes so much sense- they complement each other!TLDR: doopliss parallels vivian because of how similarly he reacts like vivian when under beldam’s control. vivian parallels doopliss because of how much more independent she is without beldam. it’s not hyper-focused on, but it’s still there!anywho, i hope my point reached you, anon! and to any other reader who braved on this ALMOST 1k lengthed ramble ehehe…w..wow i… had a lot to say abt these two jdkjksfjksdj i’m sorry if i derailed too much there! hope it was worth the read!! this was definitely very fun to write and i’ve wanted to talk about both Vivi and Doopy like this for a long time! i tried my best to cover the basics as nicely as i could, so i hope it was fun to read 💖